#they have their cameras at the weirdest fucking settings

[fandom-blackhole]

Went to a river with a small waterfall today with some friends. It was a great time, we got pho for lunch and drive in my friend's convertible.

Downside? Bitch is sunburnt......hopefully it'll be faded by tomorrow and not hurting :(

[mauvecherie-writes]

filthy: l.hamilton.

warning: 18+ mdni, extreme sexual content, slight dom!lewis, mating press, dirty talk, unprotected p in v.

notes: this gif set sent me and @hopefulromantic1 down a sinful path. our dark thoughts collided. Also I didn’t watch the episode lmao - a small section of this - paragraph 3 - is purely based on the gifs I’ve seen 😂. either way ennjjooyy 😘����.

I’m thinking about how you can’t get over just how buff Lewis got over the winter break. You love the way he just fills his t-shirts more, the way his thighs stretch the fabric of his pants - just how every inch of him seems to be bulging.

Just watching him do mundane things has you all hot and bothered. Like you’re in the living room watching his episode of DTS and you’re squirming in your seat as if he’s not somewhere in the house.

It’s the weirdest thing that sets you off. He’s by the track in his white tee, talking to the kids from Mission44 and he moves to clap his hands before swinging his arms. holy fuck. you’re creaming for your man.

You move so quickly off the sofa, you startle your sleepy boy Roscoe. You throw an apology to him before running to the security system and search the camera footage to see where he is.

He’s outside, fixing up the trampoline for the kids. You run to the backyard and for a moment you stop and just watch him. His arms flexing as he tightens the bolts on the legs.

When you catch his eye, he smiles at you. So bright and wide, his eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart beats faster causing you to blush.

“What’s up baby?” He asks you as he stands to his full height.

You don’t answer and in that moment Lewis sees the glint in your eye and he immediately knows where your heart is at. It makes him smirk.

“I have a problem.” You say as you tip-toe toward him.

“Tell me love.” He says, wiping his hands before taking your hand pulling you closer before he settles his large palms on your waist as yours wrap around his neck and you play with the strands at the back of his head.

“I see you on the show and you’re all buff and shit, muscles spilling out of your shirt and then I see you out here doing work.”

“Did that turn you on baby?” He licks his lips as he trails his hands down to your ass and cups your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathless sigh as he massages your flesh.

“How do you want me to fix it sweetheart?”

You give an all knowing smile and next thing you know, he’s picking you up in his arms and running back into the house. You don’t even go all the way to the master bedroom.

He bulldozes his way into the guest bedroom downstairs and chucks you onto the bed like you weigh nothing before pulling at your clothes and barely stepping out of his before he’s back in between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet. Did I really do that to you sweet girl?” He smiles as he stretches his knees apart - pushing yours further apart too.

“Yes!” You gasp as you arch forward trying to press your cunt against this dick. “I’m also ovulating so that could be it too.” You confess.

Lewis grunts at your words as he presses into you. Once your eyes roll, he doesn’t hold back. He’s fucking you so good that you’re screaming and trying to run away from him. He’s deep in your guts as you struggle for words.

His shoulders and chest are folding you and pressing into you as you struggle for air.

“It’s t- too much baby.” You hiccup as his skin slaps against the back of thighs. His mark was all over your body despite the way that he has you folded. The contact bites at your skin from the ferocity of his thrusts.

He’s fucking you into the bed and crushing you until you’re gasping for air and he laughs at you - mocking you for how much you said you could take him but you’re clearly having trouble doing so.

You keep trying to run away.

You try to beg but he’s not having it, the laughter is gone from his voice - he’s serious again. Your legs are back on his shoulders and he’s got you in a mating press as he fucks you harder and harder into the bed.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going huh?” He hisses in your ear as he thrusts until you. “I’m fixing your problem aren’t I? This is what you wanted. Why you running?” He taunts you.

You cry louder as tears trail down your cheeks and settle into the crooks of your neck.

“This is what you wanted. Fucking take it!” He growls. “Take this fucking dick, it’s yours.”

ru’s letters 💌: I’m ending it here. Let your imagination run 😝😌

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @lewisinlace @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

[wonjinburger]

writing prompt #04

bumping into each other as solo travelers ; park sunghoon

태양보다 찬란한 . . . 그게 바로 나

INFO : : park sunghoon x reader / romcom

wc : <1600

notes : this was lowkey rushed bcs i had an idea at 12am but i had to go sleep but i couldn't risk losing the idea

20 JANUARY 2023 : :

2:04 - it's currently 2am and i've just landed in paris, and i'm now heading to my hotel room to take a long ass nap.

13:12 - jk the nap lasted from around 11 hours. now it's 1pm and i'm going to go out for lunch. i've heard a lot of good word about a specific cafe so i'm gonna go try it out!

13:37 - the weirdest things just happened what the fuck? i bumped into this guy, who was really hot btw, by accident. obviously i apologized for it like a normal person but he just scoffed at me and left?? thanks for that random stranger.

23 JANUARY 2023 : :

12:02 - i just had a quick snack and i'm currently on the train to versailles, i wanted to have a quick look at all the beautiful architecture. i find versailles to be such a romantic and beautiful place lol

12:28 - i've arrived at versailles! i have a tour booked for today at 1pm, so i guess i'll walk around versailles for now.

13:13 - no fucking way, the guy i bumped into a few days ago is here too, like, in the same tour group as me. i said hi and he basically looked at me weird and left me standing. thank god idk this guy and i'll never see him again, he seems like an ass.

14 APRIL 2023 : :

10:16 - hi journal, today i'm in the netherlands, i heard about the keukenhof tulip garden and of course i had to come here. i just had breakfast at the hotel i'm staying in and i'm about to head out to the garden to see all the pretty flowers!

11:11 - THE GARDEN IS SO PRETTY OMG BUT THAT EXPERIENCE WAS LOWKEY RUINED. by who you may ask? by FUCKING FRANCE DUDE?? WHY IS HE EVERYWHERE???? like i was taking photos of the pretty flowers and boom, suddenly i see him through the lens of my camera, please get this guy out of my life

11 MAY 2023 : :

00:01 - i have finally done one of the things off my bucket list, and that is to visit switzerland! i always saw tiktoks and photos of the amazing view and obviously i had to come see for myself, but it's 12am rn and i am really tired so i'm gonna go sleep, then i'll explore in the morning

11:42 - okay i woke up a few minutes ago which is quite late, but i'm gonna go down to the hotel's cafeteria and have some brunch before i explore the town

4:51 - hi this isn't funny anymore, i literally just set foot into an eatery near one of the places i was visiting and i see france dude, AGAIN. can he just get out of my life atp please, i'm so sick of seeing his annoying (but ig good-looking) face. AND WHY IS THE ONLY AVAILABLE SEAT LIKE NEXT TO HIS TABLE???

-- (☆)

i'm going back home to korea today, i think i've been travelling way too much, so i'm going to go home and rest up and spend time with my family and some friends.

i boarded the plane and by that point it was 11pm and i was honestly drained. i spent a whole day exploring the more nature-y side of switzerland and the view definitely did not disappoint.

i sat myself down in my assigned seat and was so ready to fall asleep at this point. a guy walked over and sat next to me, and i bet you won't be able to figure out who was gonna be my plane seatmate for almost 12 hours. yeah it was france guy. he seemed pretty surprised to see me too i think.

after he sat himself down next to me, he looked at me, maybe i was staring too hard.. "hey" i looked at him, question marks practically all over my forehead. "can you stop staring at me" i scoffed at him, this guy is ridiculous!

the plane took off a few minutes later and i was starting to doze off, and unfortunately for me i left my neck pillow in my luggage by accident, so my head was dropping left and right.

i suddenly woke up and it felt like i was lying against something? i sat upright to see what i had been sleeping on, and it was france dude? he woke up when he felt me getting up. "you're finally up, my shoulder feels like it's about to dislocate"

'okay sorry for accidentally sleeping on your shoulder but like, rude much'

"oh shit, i'm so sorry. i left my neck pillow in my luggage and i think i just passed out suddenly" he scoffed and i was so close to losing my shit not gonna lie. but the next moment, he handed me his neck pillow and i looked at him while holding the neck pillow. "just use it, i'd rather you use my stuff than you use me" damn okay stranger. "oh, thanks?" and soon he attempted to go back to sleep.

it was currently 8:59am, which meant we still had probably less than 2 hours left of this plane ride, and i was thanking heavens because 12 hours next to this guy would've been hell if i weren't fast asleep.

france guy was moving around in his seat and i assumed he couldn't fall back asleep. i tapped on his shoulders a little to get his attention "hey, you can have your neck pillow back, seems like you can't sleep, and i'm pretty energized right now" he looked at me and sighed "it's fine, i'll just give up on going back to sleep".

after that it was pure silence. and i couldn't stand it so of course i had to open my big ass mouth.

"so.. you travel a lot?" he nodded his gaze fixed on his phone. "alone?" he nodded again still focusing on his screen. damn talking to this guy is so hard. let's bring up the past! "you remember the first time we met?" he finally looked at me. "we've met?" are you fucking serious right now.

"i bumped into you on accident in paris back in january?" he thought about it for a second before replying. "oh! i remember now, you bumped into me and almost spilt your hot coffee all over me" "hey! it almost spilt on me too okay, and i apologized for it" he shrugged it off and went back on his phone.

"you know, i kept seeing you around while i was travelling and at some point i thought you were stalking me" he looked back at me again, his eyebrows furrowed this time. "what the fuck why would i stalk you, i don't even know you?" "it happens sometimes" "hey, for all i know you could be the one stalking me right now" i was taken aback, speechless, i can't handle this guy oh my god.

"you know, your looks and personality clash a lot" he gave me a look that said 'wtf do you mean'. "you're a good-looking guy, like, i'd definitely date you if your personality was nicer" he stared at me for a while and chuckled a little. "for your information i have a great personality" "it sure doesn't seem that way" he scoffed and put his phone down before looking me in the eyes.

"i'm nice to people i'm close to, last i checked, we don't even know each other." "maybe we can change that" he looked shocked by what i said. honestly i'm shocked too, but i mean, he's pretty hot, it would be a wasted chance.

"you want us to get close?" i nodded. "you're ridiculous lady" i rested my head in the palm of my hands as i kept eye contact with him "it's y/n, lee y/n. and you are?" he looked at me in disbelief for a while. "i can't believe this is happening." he let out a deep and heavy sigh before introducing himself. "i'm park sunghoon."

"nice to meet you sunghoon. oh, i was gonna ask if you were korean, but your name just confirmed it for me" "are you heading home right now?" i nodded to his question. "homesick?" he asked, and i nodded. it seemed like he was feeling homesick too. "maybe we should hangout sometime while we're in korea" i blurted out suddenly, to my surprise he didn't oppose of this idea.

i then pushed my phone towards him, "can i have your number then?" he looked at my phone, then at me. "are you hitting on me?" i don't know, was i? i mean, i am interested in him, so i guess? "yeah i am, so what do you say, can i have your number? and maybe we can go out sometime and maybe even travel together?" he stared at me in shock, but his reply lowkey shocked me too.

"sure, let's go on a date soon"

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Takia & Rhys are platonic friends, so i'd rather not watch a sex scene BUT scattered clothes/waist-up naked bed cuddling/jumping each other when the Passion Grows Too Great/overheard moans etc. would all be excellent. Also maybe a scene right after they have sex, where Ed's snoring & then it pans over to Stede whose expression is just 🤩🤩 like when Arnold Schwarzenegger loses his virginity in Twins.

Not to be like, a sex worker on main, but this is such a weird take to me.

Like first of reason it's a weird take is, I've done a fake sex scene in a filming situation before (it was for a friend's art school project as a teenager and it lasted exactly 10 seconds so it was like not serious or comparable) and trust me acting in a sex scene is not very much like having sex. And unlike what I did there's gonna be a whole intimacy coordinator and set choreographer and all that shit on set which is gonna make it even less like having sex. Like from what I gather through the grape vine if there's a blackbonnet sex scene is season 2 like what I described what happened was they took the worlds stiffest weirdest blanket that was specifically frozen into one position, and then there were like 5 people sitting just of screen in those directors chairs pausing it every few minutes to make sure everything that's happening is above board, and they're wearing jeans under that blanket, and Rosie Darby and Rita Ora are also off screen in a chair just to make sure it doesn't get to narsty (i've heard of actors spouses sitting in on sex scenes before Idk if that's standard practice but it's a thing I've heard of). So a sex scene is not sex let's just start there. You're on a set with a bunch of fucking cameras, nobody is touching anybody else's junk, they will literally make fake prosthetic junk for them to touch before they let the actors touch each other, and nobody is actually even naked. Like even in episode 8, the least sexual nudity ever, Buttons the character may have been butt fucking naked but Ewen Bremner had one of those skin color tape on g strings that makes you look like a ken doll down there.

The second reason it's a weird take for me is, as someone who has done sex work before... truly getting paid to fuck a platonic friend sounds like a dream scenario. Like that sounds like the most normal scenario I can think of. Like you would already care pretty deeply about each other's comfort level, you would be able to get passed the awkward "so uh, hi I'm ___ I guess we're having sex now" thing because that's your buddy you know them. You can meme with each other to diffuse the tension. Absolute best case scenario. Like that's not what's happening here because like I said they're super not having sex, but I were watching a porno the actors being platonic friends IRL would not ruin it for me because that sounds like literally so much chiller than fucking a stranger for money to me.' I prefer a John I've seen before personally. (not that those two types of sex work are the same)

The third reason this is weird to me is because... we've like, seen them kiss, presumably we want them to kiss again. But that is where the acting is real. Does them being platonic friends ruin the kiss for you too? Because they actually kissed each other. Unlike a sex scene that would not be fake.

The final reason is, like I said, we're not watching Rhys and Taika have sex because they didn't have sex (for this). But we are watching Ed and Stede have sex. Ed and Stede are not platonic friends, so the people you're watching have sex (Ed and Stede) are very much attracted to each other.

TL;DR: Any sex scene they would do on OFMD is all smoke and mirrors. Even if they literally showed us a dick going into an ass (which they're super not gonna do) that is prosthetics, ass molds and cgi. So Rhys and Taika being platonic friends who aren't attracted to each other irl should be of no object. If you would prefer to see a scene like you described rather than a full blown sex scene that's fine, but Taika and Rhys being Just Friends is quite possibly the most nonsensical reason to not want to see it. It's fine to feel weird about seeing sex on tv like that's ok you don't have to come up with some reason.

[freelancearsonist]

Start from the beginning.

Dieter is the professional here. He asked you to wait, and he must’ve had a reason to do so. You take a step back from the edge of the field as you hear a sudden rustling, caused by something much heavier than the breeze.

“Dieter?”

He bursts through with a force that makes you jump, chest heaving as he pants.

“Are you okay?” He asks, one hand coming to your shoulder and the other resting on your cheek as he looks you over for any physical signs of damage. “I ran as soon as I heard you scream. What’s wrong?”

“What?” You’re taken aback by his explanation. “I didn’t scream, I heard you scream.”

“What? I didn’t scream.” He’s silent for a moment, then removes his hands from your body with an awkward cough. “You’re okay?”

“Of course I am. Are you? What took you so long?”

He hears the worry in your voice and he casts you a small smile. “I’m sorry. I wanted to get plenty of pictures. I was going to call you, but…”

“You left your phone in the car.”

“Yeah.”

You let out a heavy sigh, then a shaky laugh. You want to tell him how relieved you are, or how worried you were. You want to tell him attached you’ve grown to him in just a few short days. You want to tell him how touched you are by how worried he was for you. But you don’t–the last thing you want to do is scare him off. He’s okay, that’s what matters. 

You try not to think about what could’ve been in there, mimicking your screams.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says, and you’re pretty eager to step on the gas yourself.

He shows you the photos, when you’re both safely back in the house with the doors locked. Some of the stalks are cut, others burned. Even with your untrained eye, you can tell that: “This wasn’t some space ship or alien bullshit,” he announces. “Someone did this by hand.”

“But why?” You ask, completely incredulous. “And where is everyone?”

“I think I know, but if I’m right we have to get ready, and we have to be quick about it.” His eyes flicker darkly, and there’s no bullshit in them. You can tell he’s giving you an out here–if you’re too scared, you can back out now and he won’t blame you.

“Okay,” you tell him with a firm nod of your head. “What do we need to do?”

The trap is set within an hour, and you’re firmly in position despite Dieter’s protests for you to run as far away as you can. You have to see this through. You swallow down your apprehension and look to him for reassurance; he offers you a sweet–albeit nervous–smile. You’re in too deep to back out now, no matter how terrified and unsure you are of this whole thing.

You’ve never seen someone summon a demon before, and it’s a startling process to say the least. Dieter throws a pile of ingredients into a black ceramic bowl, and you have to look away as he presses the blade of a knife into his palm.

This definitely wasn’t included in the job description—“paranormal investigator” doesn’t really cover all the bases. He does so much more than set up cameras and try to capture some kind of specter on video. There’s so much that you don’t know about him, and that should make you at least a little bit wary of what’s happening here. But the weirdest thing about this all is that it doesn’t–that for once, the unknown isn’t making you turn tail and run for the hills.

“You’re kidding, right?”

The harsh voice behind you makes you jump and whirl around so fast you nearly lose balance, but Dieter’s hands are there to steady you. He holds you a little tighter than necessary as the sudden intruder steps closer–if you didn’t know better, you’d almost think his grip is protective.

“Astaroth.” Dieter nods his head towards the man that stands before you, almost cordial.

He’s tall, dark, and handsome. You feel so small–even next to Dieter, this man is larger than anyone you’ve met before. Dieter had warned you that there was no telling who would show up, but this vessel is more intimidating than anything you imagined.

“Who the hell is this?” The man ignores Dieter’s greeting and trains his eyes on you, even when Dieter gently pushes you behind him.

“My assistant.”

The man–demon, you remind yourself–snorts and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Bullshit. You’ve never stood within five feet of someone you haven’t fucked.”

“We haven’t fucked. Yet.”

You try so desperately not to let Dieter’s ‘yet’ go to your head, but it’s hard.

“This is what he does, honey.” You feel your heart pounding as Astaroth addresses you–you kind of thought you would be a spectator in all of this, not an active participant. “He uses people. He’s a sociopath. He does whatever he needs to get what he wants, and then he casts people aside when he’s done with them. Don’t go thinking you’re any different.”

“That’s… not true,” Dieter protests, but you don’t like the hint of hesitation in his tone. It’s as if he’s not even convincing himself.

Is that really all you are? A means to an end? It’s felt like so much more than that straight from the beginning. Whatever this is that you have with Dieter has always seemed real, always seemed important; and you’ve gotten the sense that he feels it too. Have you been wrong this whole time? Are you really so naive?

The demon takes another step closer, then stops to kick up the corner of the area rug. Your stomach twists uncomfortably at the sickening smirk that spreads over his face as he sees the freshly-painted sigil over the revealed hardwood floor.

“Really? You think I’m that stupid? C’mon Dieter, you know me better than that.” His face contorts into a deeper grin, almost inhumanly wide, and you feel a little nauseous. Dieter’s been a little ambiguous about how he knew this was a demon–how he knew it was specifically this demon. Does this person–thing?–really know him? And if he–it–does, is everything it’s saying true? Is Dieter really just using you?

Astaroth takes another step, this time around the rug, and a sigh of relief escapes you. He’s stuck in place; lured into a false sense of security by the decoy trap under the rug, he just walked under the real trap painted painstakingly onto the ceiling.

Dieter reaches for your hand and clasps it tightly, silently conveying a message to you that says “good job honey, we did it.” You had been so scared that you would look up at the sigil on the ceiling and give away the whole ruse–but it worked. You’ve trapped your first demon.

“What the fuck?” If he was indignant before, the demon is outraged now. He tries vainly to escape the sigil’s hold, but he has no luck. He has about three square feet that he can move around in, and he can’t go any further. “I should’ve expected this, you little prick. He does this every time.”

“Every time?” With the demon trapped, you feel safe enough to speak finally.

Dieter opens his mouth to answer, but the demon beats him to it. “It’s a game we play. Dieter fucks me, banishes me to Hell, I escape and find him, the cycle repeats. Only usually, he doesn’t bring a third.”

“We only fucked once,” Dieter clarifies, as if it’s the most important point. “It was the first time, and I didn’t know he was a demon.”

The demon smirks–arrogant, even in his disadvantaged position. “Tell the truth. You got off over it when you found out.”

Dieter doesn’t acknowledge that particular comment. “We’re not playing games anymore. You’ve never vanished a whole town before. Where are they?”

“I had to get your attention, didn’t I? Normally the crop circle does the trick but you didn’t come running this time, so I had to find a more… extreme method,” he explains, then turns to you. “He’s obsessed with aliens, you know. He’s been searching for proof for… what, twenty years? Still hasn’t found anything more otherworldly than my type.”

“Don’t talk to them.” There’s a grit in Dieter’s voice that you’ve not heard before–something protective. “Why don’t we get this over with?”

The man–demon, you remind yourself–sits down on the floor and crosses his legs kindergarten style. Like this, he doesn’t seem nearly so big and imposing. “What’s the rush, baby? It’s been so long. You don’t want to catch up?”

“No, I don’t,” Dieter growls. “You lost your chance when you put other people in danger.”

“Aww, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know you’d take it so personal. There, okay? They’re back.”

You don’t have to look out the window to confirm. Within a few moments you hear neighbors shouting to each other, kids wondering how it got so dark so fast. It was around noon last they remember.

You admittedly don’t know everything there is to know about demons, but you’re pretty sure that no run-of-the-mill demon has this kind of power–the power to vanish and reappear people with a blink of its eyes. Dieter told you Astaroth was dangerous, but you haven’t understood exactly how dangerous until this exact moment.

Astaroth simply smiles up at the pair of you triumphantly, as if he’s done some big, heroic act. “They don’t even know that any time has passed. All better?”

“Not quite,” Dieter murmurs before moving over to his unopened bag that rests on the living room couch.

“Come on, really?” His smile turns into a frown, akin to that of a petulant child. “When did you get so unfun, Dieter? We used to have some good times.”

You’re getting the sense that there’s a lot of history between these two, and an ugly little part of you wishes Dieter would just get this over with. You try your best to swallow down the little green monster that emerges when you think of the two of them together, or the other kinds of fun Dieter might’ve gotten up to before you met him.

“Here’s the thing,” Dieter sighs nonchalantly as he rummages idly through his bag. “I’m getting real tired of having to do this with you every few years. And I’m sure the families of your victims are, too. Where’d you get your body this time?”

“Boone County morgue, Kentucky,” the demon announces as if it’s something he’s proud of. “No family this time. He won’t be missed. I can keep this one for as long as I want.”

“No, you can’t,” Dieter counters. “You’re done this time.”

He produces a knife from his bag finally–while it looks completely ordinary to you, Astaroth goes completely rigid.

“That’s not real. Those brothers have the real one.”

“Oh, it’s real. I borrowed it,” Dieter explains with a simple shrug.

“You stole it.”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue semantics with you. I just have one more question. Was that you, fucking with us in the cornfield?”

“C’mon Dieter, I was just having a little bit of fun–”

“You’re done, Rothie.” His voice has dropped a full octave as he steps closer to the demon. His eyes flicker over to you, and there’s something impossibly complex in those brown irises even as he turns back to address the demon once again. “You tried to lure them in, didn’t you?”

Where there was once arrogance on this man’s face, there’s now sheer terror. “Dieter–”

“Shut up.” 

You’re helpless to do anything but watch as Dieter steps closer. This is in line with everything you’ve been taught since you were young. Demons are bad, demons should be exorcized. But is this really something you want to witness?

“Don’t let him do this.” You’re horrified to realize that Astaroth is making his final plea to you. “He acts as the knight in shining armor now, but he’ll leave you too. You’re nothing to him. Just an alibi, a servant. He’ll be done with you soon enough and he’ll leave you behind like everyone else.”

Yes, there’s so little that you truly know about Dieter Bravo–you realize that now. But you think you at least know his character; you know that he would never intentionally hurt you. Right?

“I’ll give you anything!” Astaroth pleads. “Just let me out of here!”

You don’t like the dark look that passes over Dieter’s face as he looks between you and the demon. But you remember what Dieter told you in your crash course lesson on demonology–they can read you like a book no matter how hard you try to keep your secrets, and they use your desires as weapons against you. Is that what this is? Who can you really trust right now?

Choose your card carefully.

The Lovers - Dieter.

The Chariot - Astaroth.

[identity-theft-101]

Not sure why and not going to think more about it but maybe Lilia would like to hear stuff about cinematography? I feel like it's a maybe with Vil? Definitely with Rook as I feel like Rook would listen to anyone about anything because he

Heck I bet talking about cinematography to Grim, Ace, and Deuce may get them wanting to make a short film.

I do think I'd find random info about cinematography interesting. Any random tidbits ya want to share?

Lilia would probably enjoy my bullshit!

(Vil and rook scare me lol)

Random knowledge:

Framing of scenes can be super important for the story! Making the choice to have certain items or a certain POV for a shot can complete change the intended energy for a scene.

The vertigo effect was invented in the 1940's and used for the movie 'Rebecca' but it didn't get the desired effect right until 1958 with the film 'Vertigo'.

It is created by rolling the camera AWAY from the Focus and simultaneously zooming IN. It is used to create an air of dramatic unease!

My least favorite equipment piece is a crane due to the annoyance of setting up and moving the sucker.

My favorites are the gimble and shoulder mount!

Gimbles are used to create a steady-cam while the camera has to move a lot. This is really handy for action scenes if you want a POV that's kinda IN the action!

They are basically good for anything that requires the camera to be moving frequently to maintain certain shots and you DONT want the camera to shake artistically.

Extreme Close Ups are a good way to make the scene feel claustrophobic or like it's closing in

My favorite film in a cinematic sense is "The secret Life of Walter Mitty"

Other bullshit:

Audio is the make or break with many films. If you have shit audio and it's not artistically intentional, restart.

You can get the best sound effects by doing the weirdest thing!! (Tree fall down? Break/eat celery next to the mic)

This is called 'Foley' and its one of of my favorite things!

I was often in charge of soundtracks becuase I loved keying up sound effects and music tracks! I also have big ass Audiophile style headphones.

Horror films aren't scary to me because I am too busy looking at the camera angles and giggling like a fangirl

My favorite silent film is Nosferatu

I have hearing loss from being the designated sound guy- People always yelled into my mic as a prank (I would have a headset plugged into the mic to make sure i got good sound)

I also often doubled as a "SCRIPT SUPERVISOR" which is in charge of continuity between shots, (ie I made sure your hat didn't change to a diffrent hat between scenes)

My film team hated me as script supervisor and storyboard manager because I was "too ocd about it" and would correct things "too often"

I still want to fucking fight them over that

They also cut a lot of my audio effects from the final version of the short film and that made me even more pissed

I used to "Lone Wolf" a lot of my projects becuase everyone hated to work with me due to my work style (or just hated me lol)

I often let actors improv dialog becuase it felt more natural and I was horrible at story-telling! It was a pain to edit, but the reactions and emotions were GOLD

I really like dramatic lighting! I would often use lighting that would give harsh shadows, one of my favorite lighting sources was actually bonfires.

Fucking love horror films, they go absolutely HARD with soundtracks and specific shots (Extreme Close Ups my beloved ♡♡♡)

[xplrvibes]

BAD EDGING😂😂 I SCREAAAMED lmfao 🤣 they get us all ready and worked up only for nothing to happen. so selfish lmao

so so so fascinating. i really hope in the future they dig into it. id love to see colby truly trying to harness this connection he has. they team up with the medium/white witch lady theyve had a couple times on their channel and she helps colby tap into the other side.

like i said the other day the only reason i could see him not wanting to do that would be how vulnerable it would mean he’d have to be emotionally. he strikes me as someone who has his walls up and he’d have to bring those walls down almost entirely which might let a looot of other things in that he’s maybe being trying to keep out. so if he does ever decide to tap into his psychicness, i hope they do it with the guidance of a professional and someone who can prepare him and help him navigate.

but dude just imagine him back at the bowers mansion, or anywhere really, just sitting criss cross on the floor and letting himself become immersed. they set up a night vision camera in the room with him and then sam and whoever else leave the house entirely. and shit starts happening. maybe colby starts ‘talking to himself’ but to him he’s hearing someone respond and converse with him.

… snc season 4 PLS (season 5? idk what season theyre up to) - aussie anon

Have you ever seen the episode where they do the psychomanteum? Cause Colby basically does that lol...goes into a little dark box, stares into a mirror and straight up hypnotizes himself. At one point he leans forward and just randomly says, "The way...that they would..." and it's the weirdest fucking thing and they never EVER talked about it. More bad edging lol.

The psychomanteum thing, I think, was more interesting from a psychological level than anything else - it kind of reminded me of that time they went into a sensory deprivation chamber and how their different experiences said a lot about both of their personality types - but just him randomly talking to himself like he was in a trance had me like "Ok, did he just bamboozle himself or what's going on here?" And then it was just never mentioned again 😭.

Anyway, I agree. I think part of his trepidation with this is those walls of his that he has up and his desire to always keep them up in order to protect himself. Confidence is part of it as well - weirdly, considering what he does for a living, I don't think he's comfortable being front and center for some things and this would be a big leap into being front and center and putting himself out there in a way that may not be favorable to him...but I think it would benefit him in the long run.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fake Dating (2) Masterlist

part one

and i fell for the lie that i told (ao3) - jbhmalum Calum/Ashton T, 10k

Summary: "If Calum is being honest — and Calum is always honest — it starts out as something completely innocent."

In which cashton get annoyed at the paps for always being there on their coffee runs and so they start to fuck with them. And the fans. And basically the entire world. Calum really shouldn't be that surprised when he starts catching feelings.

OR: 5 times Calum and Ashton pretend to be a couple in front of the cameras, and 1 time they are one, for nobody but themselves.

Epoch (ao3) - lourrygum Michael/Luke E, 10k

Summary: But Michael’s in a band, of course. He hasn’t spent over two months in his own home in over four years and he definitely hasn’t spent up to that amount of time anywhere else. L.A.’s the only place where they’d stuck around long enough to stop getting lost often enough to have to spend fifteen minutes on Google maps figuring out where the hell they were. And even then, they only stayed for around six weeks. It’s not like six weeks isn’t enough to meet someone, but it’s definitely not enough to start to like them and date them and continue to like them enough to put an effort into the long-distance thing.

or, michael's parents are worried, luke wants to help, calum can't lie, and ashton knows best

for real - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Calum/Ashton, brief Calum/OMC T, 4k

Summary: Michael keeps trying to set Calum up on blind dates, and one day Calum accidentally slips and says he has a boyfriend when he doesn't, so Ashton offers to be his fake boyfriend. It works, until Calum messes things up.

i got a long-term plan (with short-term fixes) (ao3) - bellawritess Michael/Luke T, 4k

Summary: Michael comes into the bookstore one day with the weirdest request he’s made of Luke in the almost-year they’ve known each other.

“I need a hot boyfriend,” he announces. “You in?”

Luke frowns very slowly. “To help you find a hot boyfriend?”

“To be my hot boyfriend,” Michael says, like it’s obvious. “Temporarily.”

It's Almost Like Being In Love (ao3) - sugarysnaps Luke/Ashton G, 22k

Summary: Upon entering the small jewelry shop Luke felt a surge of reality wash over him. It’d been nice in their little bubble of fake engagement. But now that they were here to replace the fake ring for their fake engagement to convince his parents of a lie, reality was a force to be reckoned with.

After a drunken posting online Luke Hemmings has found himself caught up in an intricate lie; a fake engagement to his college dorm mate, Ashton Irwin. During spring break the two must convince their families of their relationship all the while battling with interfering feelings and obstacles of secrets and pasts that are bound to catch up to them. Through the trials and tribulations of the lies and secrets, the two may find happiness within each other. Not every lie is completely devoid of truth, and perhaps their "fake" feelings hold unspoken truths.

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) Michael/Ashton, background Luke/Calum T, 15k

Summary: Michael has been letting everyone at the office believe he has a boyfriend for the past few months. Things become complicated when they ask to meet his boyfriend at the company winter party.

"No" Probably Would Have Sufficed (ao3) - littleficlets (addictedkitten) Michael/Luke, past Michael/Harry G, 366

Summary: "Am I going to have to pretend to be your boyfriend for the rest of the tour?"

Of Plastic Flowers And Enthusiastic Mothers (It's Always Been You) (ao3) - thecoloursinthegravel Luke/Ashton, minor Michael/Calum N/R, 9k

Summary: Ashton asks Luke to pretend to be his date for his cousin’s wedding. (For his mum’s sake, of course.) Luke has this teeny tiny little issue in that he’s kind of maybe slightly very much in love with Ashton. And boy, does Ashton look good in a suit.

put the stars in our eyes (ao3) - burstintocolor (anchormate) Luke/Calum M, 25k

Summary: Ben hangs up, leaving Luke still reeling. His family thinks he and Cal are dating. And they weren’t surprised. They’d been waiting for it. His mum cried because she was so happy for him. And worst of all, he hadn’t had a chance to correct Ben. Luke rolls over on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and letting out a groan.

or, luke's family thinks he's dating calum. luke doesn't correct them.

Too Close to See (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) Michael/Calum T, 20k

Summary: “Oh,” his mother breathes. “You and Calum finally figured it out.”

That is not what he was thinking. He’s not entirely sure what he was thinking, but passing Calum off as his boyfriend was not it. Still, Michael is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yes, Calum and I figured it out, so I’ll be bringing him to the wedding. No need to set me up with anyone, because I’m dating Calum.”

under the mistletoe - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton, Sierra/Crystal T, 3k

Summary: Michael needs a date to his work's Christmas party. Luke offers to be his fake date. Michael should be thrilled about this, but Michael's had a crush on Luke ever since they met each other. Now he has to fake date Luke for a party when his feelings aren't fake at all.

wish I could say something (ao3) - irwah Calum/Ashton G, 6k

Summary: “What do you mean you’re getting married?!” Comes Luke’s tinny voice, squeaking through the speakers of Ashton’s phone.

"It just makes sense, Lu.” Ashton sighs. “I don’t have the money to go back to paying full rent for the flat and he doesn’t wanna get sent back to France. It just works, logistically.”

Or: the Brexit fake dating AU that no-one asked for

you are the sun (and i’m just the planets spinning around you) (ao3) - orphan_account Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton T, 17k

Summary: "are you ready for this?” his ‘boyfriend’ asked, squeezing his hand again and giving him a reassuring smile.

― michael’s being forced to go to a stupid family event, even though it really does seem like just yesterday that he was being forced to fly out to australia for his nan’s funeral. it wasn't like he hated his nan and didn't want to mourn her death, he just honestly couldn't be bothered to deal with his family’s constant digs and comments about how unlovable he was and how he should definitely be in a relationship by his age. but ashton had a way to fix that, it all just depended on whether luke agreed or not.

(or: the fake dating fic.)

you're still the best thing in my life (ao3) - forforever (preciousthings) Luke/Calum G, 2k

Summary: in which luke gets drunk, tweets something stupid, and is in love with his best friend the whole time.

[kept-it-sincere]

Love -vs- Friendship

It was mid-October business was kind of slow that day and he walked into the T-Mobile location I worked at in The Bronx. He was not alone though; he came with a colleague from his job. The fellas worked in the hospital around the corner from where we were located. Person made it clear he only spoke Spanish and needed to buy a new phone. I asked him if he knew what he was interested in since it was close to closing the place but of course, I dealt with him, I wanted that sale. After seeing the phone, he currently had, I suggested a new one that was on promotion and went about transferring his mobile number.

Cheers to the beginning of a new friendship.

So let me tell you, this man that I clearly don’t know, besides now being a customer, goes on to tell his coworker “Yo me voy a casar con ella. Tu vas a ver.” Spanish for “I’m going to marry her. You will see.” His coworker laughed at him and said to him that he is truly the weirdest man he met. I agreed. Like uhhh, dude, why on Gods earth would you make such claims? I thought to myself this dude is insane and I need to hurry up with this new account set-up so he can leave. Though we laughed and giggled deep inside I was nervous and did not want to be rude. So, I let it be. Like every other customer, he left satisfied with his purchase. Thank goodness because I was exhausted and ready to finally go home. Let’s close shop now!

Hands practically frozen, here I am opening the store on an extremely cold Friday in November. As the gates slowly went up, a stranger came behind me, grabbed me and rushed through the doors. Immediately I thought to myself. I’m fucking getting robbed! WHAT NOW? The hell I was! Can you believe it was that guy who claimed was going to marry me? As he released me, he started to laugh so loud but being nervous and shaken up, I yelled at him for doing such things, explained to him how I’m watched on cameras and there’s a possibility that my boss called the cops thinking the store was about to get robbed. He began to apologize to me, frantically told me he does not have papers to be in this country, gave me a soft kiss on my forehead and ran off. While he ran out, I couldn’t help but notice how great his scent was, Issey Miyake, I recognize it being that it is my favorite cologne for a guy during that era.

As I figured, after a couple of minutes’ pasts, boom. Cops arrived. I had to explain to them and later of course to my boss that I knew him, and he was playing a cruel joke on me. The cops were not buying that story and started questioning me as if I had something to do with the situation. Mind you, this is the second time I seen this guy. Like why the hell am I lying to the cops. Let alone allow him to kiss my forehead? He is a creep as it is, but I did not say a word to them. I do not know but something told me not to tell the truth. So, I called my boss and told him what was happening, he knew I’m trustworthy and wouldn’t make things up, so he confirmed my story. Finally, the cops left. Hours had passed by, and he stopped by to apologize to my boss, and he offered us both breakfast and a fresh cup of coffee.

Well years later and he still plays cruel pranks on me. Talk about a way of life huh, Haha. Throughout the years we grew onto each other beautifully. Even became remarkably close friends that trusted one another with everything and shared every moment of life with each other. Enough to hold spare keys to our Apts. Our families grew to love us and knew we would be the best of friends for life. Our siblings and friends of course thought that we would end up together and become the trendiest couple around. It never happened; we respected one another so much to cross those lines. As best friends now, we would style each other before dates, give certain tips, hype each other up and then laugh or joke about how they went at the end of the night. Also being one of the biggest judges to one another, we would point out red flags in partners we dated throughout the years. Let me add that we would point out red flags to one another as well. Sometimes we did not agree but we always respected each other’s point of view and just kept a close eye on it. Don’t forget, he constantly brings up what he told me that day at the store and how he means it. I honestly did not take him seriously. Come on now, how could I?

Couple years had passed by. It was the beginning of summer, June 6 at 2:40am on a Saturday, I called him crying; completely intoxicated. It was my sons’ death anniversary, and I was not taking things well that year. I cried to him about how I miss my son who passed away. How I can close my eyes and still hear his laughter. How his touch was the best I ever felt, when he would place those tiny little hands on my face and just smile with me. After hours talking on the phone, I finally knocked out cold. The next day I woke up to flowers and a handwritten letter reminding me that I’ll always be a great Mom and that everything will be okay one day. We cooked our favorite comfort foods throughout the day and laid-back watching movies till late that night.

Things changed one night though. He called me and said he needed to come over to my place. That something bad happened on his block and he needs to get away from everything. Without hesitation I told him to come over. Once he arrived, all broken sweat as if he was running, he told me how a jeep drove by him and his friends that was outside his building, and people inside that truck just started shooting at them. Explaining to me that everyone was fine and was able to get out of dangers way. He asked if he could stay the night behind what had just occurred. Of course, I refused for him to be out there anyway. That night, we gossiped about all the drama that was going on between the blocks from where he lived at. I was always worried about him because of the lifestyle he lived back then. You know how many times we argued about him leaving the streets alone for good? Thus, way too many times if I must say. It just would not happen though.

Happy New Year!!! Here we are now, years later celebrating the new year in Florida. Friends trip to Walt Disney World. Let me tell you, if you can, do it! The trip was such an amazing experience. The firework show was a spectacular event and to die for! Makes you really fall in love. That’s exactly what happened too, we fell in love. Everyone claimed they knew how we felt for each other, but we always denied it since, again, we never crossed those lines, but people would make their comments here and there. As always, we ignored them.

Time came and went, we’re back to the mother land. The Bronx, everyone finally settled into their homes and caught up to reality again. For a selected few it is a reality they were trying to run from.

It’s roughly about 5am, I heard my phone ringing from a distance. When I answered with was my best friend's grandmother, hysterical crying, she told me “Someone shot him, they tried to kill him!” My heart sank, I rushed right over to the hospital where they took him too. We waited in the emergency room for hours. Finally, the doctor, covered in blood, gave us the most horrific news I had to endure. He did not make it. He lost too much blood before arriving and they didn’t have enough time to perform a blood transfusion. My world literally shattered that day. After his burial service, I decided to stay at his grave. I huddled over his casket crying, I confessed to him how much I love him. How I felt like a horrible friend for not saving him from the streets. But I promise to take care of his grandmother the way he did. Which, still to this day, I do. You know what the saddest part is, there are people that cannot be saved. No matter how hard you try. Sometimes you cannot have somebody just because you love them. Sometimes you should tell others how you truly feel about them. But you must allow them to live their lives. No matter how hard that is for you, certain people come into your life as a blessing. Learn to see what that is and appreciate them until they’re gone, because one day God is going to need them back home.

[jangofctts]

Until Ashes Are All You Breathe (Batman/Bruce Wayne x fem!reader) 

PART ONE  PART THREE PART FOUR

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: !!spoilers!!, smut, sex in the batmobile, explicit language, unprotected sex, handjobs, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, edging, mentions of violence/someone getting shot, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

a/n: WELL HERES A SECOND PART BC I CANT CONTROL MYSELF SJKWEJHR  also I do not cARE that the bat mobile is too small--I have taken creative liberties so wkjrkjr

The mayor is dead. 

You get the call not even an hour after the murder has taken place. 

It’s a gruesome scene—not so much as gory, but more along the lines of completely fucked up. Bashed in skull, wrapped in ductape and plastic wrap. This is something beyond the simple, random act of violence or a targeted, passionless hit. This is…personal. And the weirdest thing about it is that, there’s a letter taped to his chest addressed to the Batman.

Hits a little too close to home—no one knows you’re in cahoots with the guy save for Gordon. Your reputation is still fresh and you’re young. Your image can’t be tarnished this early in your career working with vigilante justice, Gordon explained. Gives the station a bad rap—specially if it came to attention that a crime scene tech was passing off evidence to the certain vigilante in question. Not even Gordon nor the haughty position your mother holds as senator could save you from that sort of backlash.   

And so, like you’ve always done since you’ve been hired—you keep your head down. You focus on your work, documenting every stray fiber, scuff mark, stain and beyond. Some people, however, do not respect these perimeters you’ve set for yourself. 

Detective Braun, portly and tall, sporting a blonde handlebar mustache better left in the 70s, meanders over to your section of evidence collection. The camera you hold flashes and clicks as you record a blood splatter. In his palm he shakes a collection of Cadbury Eggs—he pops one into his mouth. He’s always eating the little chocolates. The candy shells crunch between his teeth coffee stained teeth. “Hey, Blue.” 

You mumble a hello and flutter over to a scuff mark. The camera clicks. You bite your tongue.  

He follows. “How’s your mom?” 

You refrain from rolling your eyes. It’s like clockwork with this guy. You sigh. At least he’s not hitting on you. “Still married, sir.” 

“Damn,” he laments. He pops another chocolate into his mouth and extends his open palm towards you. The sugared dyes have bled into his skin, rubbed off by his sweat. “Want one?”

“Uh, no. That’s alright,” you say. You shoot towards the kitchen in another fruitless escape attempt. “Thanks though.” 

Fuck—where’s Gordon when you need him? 

“You’ll let me know though, right?” Detective Braun persists. He smooths his now hand down his red checkered tie. You raise a questioning brow. “If she and your old man ever divorce.” 

Your face scrunches into one of disdain. “Dude—”  

Braun holds up his hands in surrender and has the audacity to chuckle. His cheeks turn cherry red every time he process an emotion beyond his need for Cadbury Eggs and pestering the crime scene crew about their, very, married mothers. 

Today is full of surprises. 

You hear the familiar, heavy steps and the subtle clink…clink…clink of metal lining Batman’s legs before you see the pointed tips of his helmet slide into view. What the fuck is he doing here. He can’t be that fucking stupid—waltzing in an active crime scene— 

Like he can hear your thoughts, his sharp eyes find yours through the bustle of your coworkers. Your breath catches in your throat—

Last time you’ve seen him was…well. You clear your throat and rub your forearm against your nose—masking up the furious heat that rushes up your chest and pools under the flesh of your cheeks. You blink and Bats has straightened his gaze to the room beyond. 

“Who invited the Batman?” Braun retorts, just as stunned as every other poor bastard cramped into the Mayor’s townhouse. “Is that allowed?”  

Speak of the devil and so he shall appear. Gordon strides ahead of Bats, leading him to the Mayor’s body. You draw no suspicion to yourself—you’re invisible, as it should be. You’ll meet up with Gordon after this. 

                                                    =+=+=+=  

Like you predicted, you get a text from Gordon. You meet him in the back alley, two streets down from the station. The looming, dark figure of Bats lurks behind him. 

“What were you thinking, Gordon?” You hiss, jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “I thought we were supposed to keep this shit under wraps!” 

“It is, don’t worry, kiddo,”  Gordon assures. He knows how you are with rules. “Vengeance is more involved than you know—trust me on this.”

The explanation is mildly insane, but you trust Gordon. That’s what matters. You rub your eyes and flick your hand in dismissal. “So Batsy has a fanboy. Great.” 

Except—it’s not so great. 

Commissioner Savage shows up dead a day later. 

Another letter is addressed to Batman. 

Something about a thumb-drive and the Mayor involved in escort services. It all leads back to that damn Iceberg Lounge. What the fuck. You don’t want anything to do with that place after what happened to Bats, but like hell you’d ever explain the full details to Gordon of all people. 

You grin and bear it when Gordon comes up the grand idea of staking the place out. Collect as many photos of the upstanding members of society to create a pool of potential victims. The unfortunate part of working with a well seasoned lieutenant is that they can sniff out the barest inkling of tension better than a bloodhound—of awkwardness. It’s another nail in you coffin when you elect to go with Gordon instead of Bats. It’s out of self preservation—you don’t know how well you’ll fend in a car, alone, with Bats without jumping his bones or making a fool of yourself. Probably both. 

Does Bats even want anything to do with you, anyway? 

“Whatever it is that’s got you both all jumpy,” Gordon interrupts your spiral. He takes off his glasses and uses his shirt to wipe away the moisture that collects on them. It’s drizzling atop the open-aired tower. And cold. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his pinky. “Kiss and makeup—we got more important things to worry about.” 

You wince. Poor choice of words.          

Batsy just stares off into the distance. The muscles in his sharp jaw jump as he clenches his teeth.  

You follow Batty to his car once the three of you leave the tower. You assume that this ok—he’d probably tell you to get lost if it weren’t right? Your worries are quickly derailed. 

“Is this car even street legal?” You scoff, running the flat of your palm over the sleek metal. This shit is more armored than the goddamn Popemobile. 

“Are you gonna arrest me for it?” 

Your nose scrunches. “No.”

Batsy inclines his head, his lips tilting up into a whisper of a smirk. With a flourish of his cape he opens the door and slides inside. You sigh and follow him in. The first thought you have of the interior is that it’s cramped and the second—holy fuck Batboy is rich. You’ve been in your fair share of government vehicles and out-the-ass expensive vintage models your father held an interest in, but this—this is a heavily modified tank crammed into a Dodge Charger.

Either he’s rich or he’s sponsored by some moneybag. Idiotic of anyone to believe he just picks this stuff up at the local Goodwill. The latter is unlikely—from what you’ve seen, he follows his own motives that have nothing to do with money.  

The drive is fast even after taking all the back ways around to get to the Iceberg Lounge that recedes under the overpass. You pick at your sleeve as Bats rolls to a stop, just out of sight but with enough visibility that you’re able to snap pictures of whoever slinks out the backdoor.  

You break the terse silence. It’s unbearable. “Hey—at least you don’t have to go in this time, right?” 

His armor shifts as he flashes you a wary stare. He makes a noise of agreement. 

Better than nothing, you think. And that’s the extent of your conversation—he’s a quite man and you’re nervous to prod at him. 

It doesn’t help that this stakeout is beyond drab. It’s early in the night—no one’s gonna be coming out of that backdoor for hours. You rub your thumb over your bottom lip—maybe you could get Doordash—

“You ever been inside?” The sudden, rough scrape of his voice in the silence startles you. 

You swallow and shrug. “One time a few years ago. Wasn’t really my vibe, but it was my friend’s birthday, so…”   

You remember it vividly. Too many flashing lights, sweaty bodies and skull pounding music that rattles your ribcage. You’re about to ask why he’s asked you this, but movement flashes in the corner of your eyes. The backdoor opens.  

Two men come tumbling out, snarling and grabbing at each other in a drunken brawl. Not who you’re looking for but the disturbance is interesting to watch, regardless. And then it all goes ass up. The smaller of the two is thrown to the cracked concrete. He reaches into his pocket—

“Oh, shit—“

A gunshot cracks through the air—the man crumples. Your heart leaps between your teeth, icy panic surging from the pit of your stomach up to your chest. You’ve gone through hundreds of trainings that equip you to deal with these sorts of things—none of it helps. Those were imaginary—no real threat or the actual sight of someone dying.    

The man on the ground, face hidden in partial shadow whips his head in the direction of the car.

You don’t realize you’ve shrieked, not until a large hand, covered in black leather clamps over your mouth. In another motion he hooks his hand under you knees, wrenches you close all while shoving your back flat against the seats. He slides over you, laying the majority of his weight atop of you—the back of your head cracks against the armrest—fucking hell. Your squeaks are muffled by his glove as tears prick at your eyes. 

Holy fuck—you just saw a guy get murked point blank. You breathe harshly through your nose and claw at his hand—you’re not getting enough air, goddamnit. Everything is spilling into madness like an overfilled teakettle abandoned on a hot stove.   

Batman shifts his weight and drops his head to fit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His voice vibrates against your throat, your heart ramps up even higher, so fast you’re positive Batsy can hear your pulse. “Quiet…” 

You don’t listen, crumbling into a disarray of rapidly firing neurons and anxiety riddled nerves. The same kinda feeling you get when your foot skips a step or when you’ve been caught in a lie by a close friend. A wicked mess of knots and an icy plunge into perilous waters all held beneath your breastbone. Your fingers feel numb—you’re gonna fucking die here.

You squirm and dig your nails into his glove. He rests more of his weight on you. “Take a deep breath—trust me, Blue.”

Bats raises his head—you meet his gaze—the color of still blue water contrasted by the black grease paint. He has pretty eyes, you think—you take a deep inhale through your nose and sink into the seat. The heaviness of him is a comfort too. Like a makeshift weighted blanket.  

You hand falls slack and so does his. The taste of leather lingers on your lips. The seam of his gloved thumb skims up your face and catches the lone tear that crawls down your cheek. He brushes the digit along the line of your cheekbone. You hiccup. “Good girl.” 

That’s just downright cruel. Just calling to the darkest corner of your lonely heart like that. Burning with wild abandon with no regard for the consequences that it’ll bring. It’s only been a week and you’ve told yourself that you’re over him. No empty nights lying in bed, staring at the ceiling thinking you could see his masked face in the pattern of the cracks if you looked hard enough. That would be crazy.  

You bring your hand to his jaw, The stubble pricks your soft palm as you trail it up to the edge of his dark mask. Your fingertips brush over the sloped brow. You bite your tongue and tap your nail into a roughened groove on his temple. A bullet grazed him here. Bats’ eyes never leave your face. “This is new.”

Neither of you mention the warble in your voice. 

He sighs and drags his eyes above the lip of the door. “They’re gone,” Basty says, yet makes no move to readjust himself. His eyes drop to your parted lips.   

You’ve never been the best in suspended moments like this. You swallow and trace your thumb over his bottom lip — full and pouting and cracked in spots. You lick your lips and offer a smile. “Are we about to kiss right now?”

Batsy grunts and captures your jaw between his fingers. Damn—not even a little smile. “You’re a distraction.” 

He kisses you—the edges of the world drop off into some unknown void. A black hole or a supernova, it swallows, yet creates—remains of heavenly light and the low twinkle of faraway stars promising something bigger than yourself. Ache and desire swell inside of your heart, ready to burst in his hand the moment his bruised fingers decide to squeeze—weave your heartstrings into a noose of frayed hopes and stupid wishes. A second tear rolls down your cheek and over your connected lips. You have a soft heart. You gasp as his warm tongue swipes over your bottom lip, salt and the taste of him bloom across your tastebuds.

Batboy takes this chance to drag his tongue against the roof of your mouth—a tendril of fire licks at your insides.You whimper softly, his jaw slackens against your open palm as he slips his tongue into your mouth again. The hard carbon fiber that hides his nose brushes up against your cheek—it’s a torture of the worst kind you once again think. To have him so close, to taste him and hold him and know that the return to real life is inevitable.

It has be torture for him too, because he hesitates to parts, holding his body in a way that screams regret. The gentle rain pitter-patters onto the roof and beads over the partially fogged windshield. His lips are still chapped, not as feverish as the last time but still driven by the incandescent flame of passion and want. It’s just…

It’s not very comfortable.

The space is ridiculously small. The armored layers and the bulky width of his shoulders barely allow any lateral movement of his arms, lest he wants to accidentally push a button that’ll eject the car into fuckin’ space. He instead dips a hand under your back and presses his palm flat across your spine as if you weren’t close enough. You don’t care—especially not when your shirt rolls up. Nor when he takes advantage of this by sliding his hand over your flushed, bare skin.

You’re entranced by the way his lips move against yours and the rare graze of his teeth on your bottom lip, addicted to the way his fingertips dance and drift indolently along the bumps of your spine and the sides of your rib cage. He doesn’t even know he’s doing this—just as entranced as you are by him. The leather scrapes over the sensitive patch of nerve endings right where your last rib starts to conjoin with the curve of your hip. Goosebumps rush up your skin at the soft groan of enjoyment. Bats’ tongue dips into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet, hazy dance.     

Fuck—you tilt your hips and shift your knees that are trapped between the back of the seat and his body. It’s a poor attempt to relieve some of the pressure that collects in the pit of your stomach like a hot coal. There’s nowhere to fucking go. 

You try to draw your knees up higher, widening your hips to allow him to sink closer, more comfortably than trying to basically plank over you. You pause as you feel a pleasant firm pressure of him between the crux of your thighs. You shiver—the rough material of his pants and the solid weight of what you’ve been unjustly denied for months now, just beneath it, brushing between your legs. Your head buzzes like radio static. 

You part—uncontrolled panting loud within the small, quiet space. 

“Blue.”

His voice is strained and your mind washes ashore with a brief sense of guilt. You’ve been rocking your hips achingly slowly against the front of his pants. You mumble an unintelligible apology as a sheepish smile graces your face. Being so crammed tight like this, you’re able to feel every little shift of his body—the way his chest plate moves with every breath he takes and that certain warmth lingering between your thighs and the firm weight of his cock hidden away in his heavy work pants. Batsy shifts his hips upwards in a stupid attempt to curate room in such a tight space but the contact only brings your center down against the bulge that now begins tenting his tactical pants. The movement rips a soft puff of air from your throat.

Bats shuts his eyes and drops his chin, scrambling for composure. His fist a bloody mess around the rough rope that keeps him from plummeting to his base instincts. Resisting the tempting softness of your body beneath him, the way you unfurl for him like a flower that only blooms in the moonlight.You cup his face and plant a sweet kiss on the side of his frowning mouth. “I want you.”

He makes a noise low in his throat. Leather creaks as his fingers clench against you. “We shouldn’t—not here.” 

“Prude,” you tease, drawing him into another kiss. His dissent to the idea of fucking in his car is clear, but he still doesn’t move. Bats has all the power in the world to peel himself off of you, readjust and drive you back into town—but he doesn’t. He’s giving you a lead, the threadbare whisper of suggestion to convince him to stay. Have your way with him as long as he still has that option to blame you if anything goes awry. A scapegoat to say that he tried to resist. That’s alright. You’ll bear the brunt of it. “Fuck me—I’m all yours.” 

“There’s no room,” Bats insists. His words are hollow and flaky. 

You roll your hips up. His hand shoots up to seize your hip, gripping tight as a ragged noise echoes through the car. Your name follows the tail end of his grunt and like you’ve deduced, his hold on your hip is only a front. He doesn’t put a stop to the way you arch into him and groan enticingly. 

Vengeance murmurs your name again, it’s choppy. He’s close to shattering. Just one more shove and you’ll have him strung around your fingers. A web of intertwined knots made from fishing line that’ll leave behind angry red slashes in the skin if you try to cut through it with just your fingernails. You’ll need a sharp blade to sever him from you. 

“I think about your mouth on me all the time,” you whine, the words airy and floating in the leaden space between you. His body goes rigid as memories spill into his head. How he had held his fingers and mouth to your fevered, slick cunt. How his bare fingers had glided easily through your folds and the way his hot mouth slotted perfectly to your swollen clit. Based on the way Bats shivers, he’s fallen into the same predicament as you. How desperately you want to feel him everywhere that his armor won’t allow. “I need you—please.”

You feel dizzy with arousal—sweat pricks at your hairline. Fuck—he’s frustrating. And then… he gives.

Bats grabs your hand, dwarfed by the size of his and pressed your palm against the clothed tip of his length. He stutters out a curse and drags his lips down your jawline and to the column of your neck. “You win.” 

Those two words strike through you like a match to gasoline—burning white hot between your thighs. Shit, you want him pressed close like this forever, but as tragedy goes, you don’t have forever—much less hours. You’re running on stolen minutes.

“Can I touch you?” Bats supplements the question with a squeeze of his other hand that’s sitting on your hip. He doesn’t need your permission, you’ve already given it, but he asks anyway.

You eagerly nod. You shift, pull you legs up and wiggle one leg out of your pants and underwear—holy fuck, this should be considered an Olympic sport. You didn’t know you were this flexible. 

You don’t remember Batboy taking off his glove—only that his calloused fingers and that his dry palm, a little cold, skates a slow path to your navel. His forehead drops against your collarbone, his bare hand dipping between your legs that are spread as far apart as you can manage in the given space. His fingers spread over your cunt, teasing out a little moan. You jolt as Bats suddenly drags the pad of his middle finger over the slit of your pussy and dips further into your wet folds. 

Batboy is a patient man—you know this better than anyone, but his pace starts off quick, pressing fast little circles over your clit. The pleasure is raw, but there’s no place to curl away from him. You’re stuck here to suffer under the consequences of your actions. You know for a fact he’s one for the slow build. Batty wants to feel everything. From stitched up wounds, to the sting of mistakes, and all you have to offer him—penance maybe. Or maybe the pain makes him feel alive. A shame that he can’t savor these honey-sweet moments—not now anyway. Christ you hope there’s a next time. One with more space and a whole lot less armor.

His fingers cut to the quick, fast and rough, playing your body like a musician’s clever fingers against brass strings until you sing for him. Bats drops his shoulder, giving him a greater reach as he drags the length of his index finger across your throbbing clit. Your body jolts in response, hips chasing his fingers as he swirls them against your soaked entrance. He curses as he feels you here—dripping and swollen, plush velvet that welcomes the gentle proddings of his lean fingers.

You whine, pitching up an octave as he parts your cunt with his index finger while maintaining devastatingly speedy, deliberate strokes of his thumb directly to your exposed clit. he’s burning a hole right through your stomach with his fingertips alone. You squeeze your eyes shut and claw and his forearm, unsure if you’re trying to pull him closer or away from you. 

It’s too much—it sears through you from the centre of your core and spirals out to your lower spine and beyond—like lightning to metal. You try to arch away as the pleasure begins to scald, but his touch follows, caging you into the door and the seat—no where to go other than forward and back into his unwavering touch. Your mind unravels as your orgasm crests, and you know you’re devolving into a string of senseless babbling and cries of his name. 

His fingers press firmly against your clit, sweeping one final circle. Fucking shit—you swear your ears ring from how quickly your ecstasy plows through your trembling body. You barely hear your own choked cries as he drags you through it until you’re nothing but a mess of twitchy aftershocks and wheezy pants. 

“Good?” Batsy asks you softly. 

“Fuck yeah,” you shoot a hand up to his pants and tug at the front of them. “Off—take these off.” 

His hand leaves you, swatting your groping, impatient hand away. The sound of his zipper is near jarring in the quiet. Your heart jumps into fluttering rhythm as he eases his length out. You can sort of see in the low glow of dashboard appliances, not enough to makeup the definition of his cock. The next noise that falls from that grim mouth of his comes when you wrap your fingers around the tip of his flushed length. A bead of precum smears wetly against the palm of your hand as you slip your fingers around his familiarly thick shaft and begin to pump his length. The angle is a little awkward, but you find a rhythm that suits the occasion. His jaw clenches, breath hitching.

The dark magnifies his size, heavier and stiffer than steel in your hand as your motions grow slicker with every pass of your palm against the leaking tip of is cock. Your wrist twists on its way down his length. Each time you tug, dragging the velveteen skin up, Batty bites back a fragile moan.

Your grip on his cock falters the moment he touches you without warning. His fingers are long and bruised—like those of an artist or a miserable pianist drowning in woe—and when they swipe across the oversensitive bundle of nerves you swear you’re affronted with the very spark of creation. He dips two fingers into your entrance, up to the second knuckle then back to your clit. Bats crowds in closer and laves his tongue over you neck and sucks a bruise into the delicate skin here. He huffs—he’s been fucking himself into your still hand and you’ve been too selfish to notice. You start to jerk him off again, his sticky precum thick over your fingers and the slopes of you knuckles. 

“Fuck, Blue,” Bats speaks into crux of your neck and shoulder, hot breath fanning across the skin. “I don’t—I can’t control myself around you.”

The last part is whispered and muddled—too much of a secret to be fully revealed. Another facet of his guarded heart. You don’t get the chance to chase after this revealed tidbit like you want to. His fingers redouble their efforts—everything winds tight again—

You claw at his vambraces, your lips parted in a silent wail as white light bursts behind your eyes. His fingers drag down through your folds, wetting themselves with the flood of your arousal. Even as you hips jerk, Bats slots his fingers back against that bundle of nerves and works them faster than he did before. You hiss and try to move your heel up to dig into his thigh to deter him, but there’s no use. Your legs are numb anyway and prickle with every movement. The back of your head digs into the door handle and you arch and beg for mercy.

“One more.”

Fuck. You start to shake your head—the waver in his words make you pause. 

“Please—take it, Blue.”

It clicks. 

This is his way of an apology for the week before. The supposed sacrifice you’ve made for him, when in reality it was less than a favor. Overload your entire system with mouth-watering pleasure so that the sins of the past wash away—he wants you to understand that he isn’t greedy. No matter how many times you assure him that there’s no reason to apologize, you’ll let him repent in a way that he feels necessary, if only to bring him some peace of mind.

“Ok—ok,” you keen. “Yeah…”

You swear he mutters a thank you between rolling his fingers over your clit. It takes four deliberate upward strokes, the pleasure serrated and unrefined. You stiffen and cum again—it’s wet, burning heat soaks your inner thighs and probably the seat below. You’re still cumming as he crams two of his fingers deep into your cunt and curls them deliciously against your fluttering walls. You cry weakly, the sound of his fingers inside of you obscene.

His fingers pull away from your cunt, dragging themselves wetly across your stomach. Bats allows you to catch your breathe, collect yourself from the wild edge of madness and the influx of bliss. The windows are completely fogged now, patchily cleared by the sparse raindrops that trickle down the glass. 

Bats calls your attention back to him. You twitch as his hand smooths down your thigh, numb from being stationary for so long. “Do you still want more?” 

Your muscles clench—you’re more than ready—your body aches for something to substantial to fill you. “Yes—fuck—fuck me.”

He grunts as you rock your hips up again, wriggling yourself until you feel the flushed underside of his cock drag against your soft stomach. Liquid smears across your navel as you try all on your own to maneuver his cock to slide into your wet heat. Batsy grants you mercy. 

Batboy shifts. Your knee bumps into the dashboard, knocking against some lever—shit. You both startle as the windshield wipers spring to life. The back of his head thunks against the low ceiling. “Damnit,” his irritation bleeds through in the way he roughly shoves the the lever back to its rightful place. 

You snicker as a million and one taunts spring to the tip of your tongue, they crumble to ash the second he reaches between your bodies and drags the swollen head of his cock across the cleft of your cunt. He slots himself against the drenched line of your cunt, still messily slick from your previous orgasms Vengeance bestowed. You tense as he holds there, watching the way your body squirms for him as he methodically parts you with his cock, his fingers holding himself at just the right angle to teasingly glide through your lips and oversensitive clit. You don’t understand why it’s taking him so long to just fuck you.

Your brows furrow, face twisting. You open your mouth to snap at him, and only then does he sink himself lower until his cock catches at your entrance. Almost there—another tear tracks down your cheek as Batty swears—feeling your cunt dribble down cock, rocking up, bypassing your throbbing entrance and into your clit until he feels the muscle of your pinned thighs shake against the seat and his waist.

You whimper his name. Bats digs his fingers into the delicate meat of your thighs. He’s slick with your wetness. It coats your thighs and you know he can feel it too. It’s coats your inner thighs—already a fucked out mess that only he can satiate. What the fuck is he waiting for?

“Jesus, Bats, put it in—fuck—I need you inside me,” you beg. A last ditch effort against all odds. You don’t care that you sound like a whiny brat, or the fact that his sullen eyes are alight with a dark undercurrent of something akin to repletion. You reach blindly for him, slapping your palm against his chest plate.

It feels like eons before his cock ruts into your swollen clit. When it does you swear you forget how to fucking breathe. The hand that rests over your thigh jumps to your throat, his fingers spreading across the base of your jaw and holding your head firmly in place. He doesn’t squeeze or threaten to cut off your air supply—just holds his cold fingers here like an anchor. A revelation of how easily you could bend and crack under the weight of Vengeance— 

Your grasp at his arm, he leans down another time, the stubble of his jaw and his mask scratching the spot just beneath your earlobe. “Crybaby Blue—always gets what she wants…”  

Your eyes pop open—how does he know that—

He pushes into you.

He moans, a heavy sound that sends a shiver down your spine. Every thought melts into a puddle as your cunt stretches tight around him as he haltingly grinds inch after inch of his cock into your pussy. You both groan as he bottoms out, the sharp protrusions of his pale hips digging into the soft flesh of your tummy. 

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

The first roll of his hips makes a downright pornographic noise that peppers shame into your consciousness, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Bats’ lip curls over his teeth, tucking his knees under your thighs and crushing you even further between the door and the weight of his body. Each stroke is liquid fire, shredding you apart at the seems while stitching you back together in the same breathe. It’s like a shot of pure paradise. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

His thumb lightly presses over the base of your throat and sucks another mark above where his fingers curl around your skin. He moans your name—your walls clench tight around him as you throw your arms around his wide shoulders and dig your nails into the fabric of his thick cape. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again. The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You don’t know if your should be embarrassed that you’re cumming again— 

His hand around your throat unlatches and wiggles between your bodies and rub your little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze—

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers.  

You don’t. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the seat and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, sharp and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and slicing through it with molten pleasure. Batty's voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved high. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Bats continues to swing his hips freely—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive and sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, coating your insides with thick ropes of his warm spend. 

You lay here like this, crushed under his body and recollecting your wildly spinning thoughts. Everything is dizzy and intangible—you can feel his cracked lips laving sweet kisses up your jaw, over your check and onto your lips. Your eyelids flutter shut as you’re swept into the addiction of his frowning lips, pliant and warm. 

The fantasy comes to a screeching halt—

You jolt as your phone, abandoned on the floor of the car rings full blast. You curse and throw your arm down, scrabbling to find the damn thing. 

“Is that the Kim Possible ringtone?”

You raise a brow and purse your lips. “You know who Kim Possible is but not Edna Mode?” He cocks his head to the side. Your fingers find the edge of your phone, you bring it to your ear. “Y’know what, whatever—hello?” 

It’s Gordon—he wants you both back at the tower. Stakeout’s over. “Yeah—we’ll meet you there.”

You end the call. 

He’s staring at your again—you rub your nose and shift your tingling hips. You chew your bottom lip and drop your head back against the armrest—he’s still inside of you. Fuck. “We—we gotta go, Batboy.”  

You both hiss as he pulls his softened cock out of your abused cunt. A surge of his cum, mixed with your arousal spills onto your thighs and the fancy leather seat below you. “That’s…that’s gonna stain.”

He grabs the back of the seat and heaves himself off of you. You inhale a deep, full breath—suddenly aware that you’ve been taking measly half breaths the entire time. No wonder you feel dizzy. He zips up his pants. “I don’t care.” 

You shakily pull your pants and underwear up your legs and unstick yourself from your haphazard position. Your lower back cracks, you hips whine at the movement and fuck—even your neck aches. It’s going to be a bitch to wake up tomorrow. “I think you compressed my spine.”

“I’ll make sure to include a bed in the next model,” he quips, and it’s not the rare display of humor that surprises you. It’s his smile. It’s not a toothy, face-splitting one—just a simple curve of his lips that display his subtle dimples and an emotion other than his moroseness.    

You’ll follow him to the ends of the earth, you decide, even if it leads to nothing more than heartbreak and shattered hopes. Your Orpheus to your self proclaimed Eurydice—it probably works better the other way around, though. You just…he reminds you of a lonely star in the far reaches of space and you know, with damning insight, that constellations get named after either heroes or grief. Wild heroes, wild griefs. Vengeance bleeds from the crooked, sacrificial dagger wedged in his breastbone, and you’re trying to patch the hole in his heart with trembling fingers, but the blood keeps spilling. 

 “Let’s go,” he urges. 

You roll out of that dingy back alley and when you peer out the window to check for any lingering shadows and lurking evils, you remember— 

The body of that guy is long gone. Someone is cleaning up their messes. Bats senses your inner turmoil, and presses his foot against the pedal. The engine roars. “Don’t think about it.”

You’ll try your best.     

                                                     =+=+=+=

Her laugh echoes through the expanse of the chilled cave. He can’t escape her and he doesn’t really want to.  

Every sentence Bruce tries to write starts with Blue and ends with his heart wanting to twist and burst open. He feels too much all the time or else he feels nothing at all, and it doesn’t seem to matter what he does. He never thought it possible that someone could neutralize his tumultuous soul in the way that she does.   

His throat bobs as his dirt stained fingers hover over the backspace. He presses it—Bruce’s mouth goes dry as he watches Blue laugh for the umpteenth time through the red tinted recording. He imagines kissing her, her blossom-soft lips sweet on his, glistening with madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire. It’s almost enough to make him smile. 

He rubs at his stinging eyes. Bruce promised this wouldn’t happen, that it would be easy to steer clear of her. 

It was easy.   

And like most everything he touches—he’s stained it black. He’s ruined it. A stupid fucking mistake. Equal parts repulsed by himself and the other half yearning for another touch of her soft hands. Another smile, another sweet sigh and the smell of her perfume. Bruce lies awake at night mouthing the syllables of her name as if he could manifest her into existence—it never works. What would to be gained from it anyhow? Fear lacerates his heart—he doesn’t think she’d like the face that resides under the mask of Vengeance.   

Bruce’s eyes trace the grainy outline of her smile—

“Haven’t heard that voice in years—how is Blue?”

Bruce jumps and casts a half-hearted glare over his bare shoulder. He didn’t hear Alfred come in. He spins in his chair and studies the grimy floor instead of Alfred’s eyes. “She doesn’t know.” 

“That Bruce Wayne has an alter-ego?” Alfred strolls over to the desk and leans against it with a sigh. His keen eyes trace over the paused film. He smiles. “Pretty—you should invite her for tea.” 

Bruce blinks and shakes his head. Guilt stirs in his stomach. That would throw an even bigger wrench in everything. That’s not fair to Blue. “I can’t.” 

“Reconnecting with an old friend might do you some good,” Alfred pushes. He straightens his vest and adjusts his tie. He wanders back to the gated elevator. He winks. “I’ll arrange for noon on Thursday.” 

“Alfred—” 

The doors snick shut. 

Fuck. 

[house-of-laminations]

Loving MC from afar

Ok so this is the first fic I've written in a long while and it's about a mobile otome game. I blame @demonfamilytherapist

Set (loosely) in between S1 and S2, after MC has returned to the human world. They might be separated from the brothers, but that does not stop the brothers from loving them from afar. A little look into how the brothers can subtly (and not so subtly) influence the world and MC themself in order to stay connected. (gn) MC-centric! This does cover all the brothers, though Lucifer/Pride is last for chronology reasons...

cw: Brief blood mention in Satan’s section. There are references to being lethargic and uninterested in life/hobbies that could very easily be read as depression in Belphie’s section. Definitely elements of manipulation and dubious morality throughout too.

Mammon (Greed - to collect and covet material objects and goods)

There’s a knock on your window just after you wake up. It’s been happening for a few days now, but you never catch who’s doing it. The window itself is quite high up, and if it’s someone throwing rocks on a regular basis, well, they’ve got very good aim.

On a whim, you leave a camera rolling overnight. The following morning, you hear the knock again, and this time, you’re ready. The batteries are almost dead but thankfully the camera managed to catch the last few moments before winking off. Plugging it into your laptop, you scrub through the entire night so you can catch the early morning. And - well. It’s not what you were expecting.

In the hour just before you go to sleep, you notice a crow land in the branches across from the window, its eyes glinting gold through the lens of the camera. It doesn’t move all night. It doesn’t even sleep. In the morning, about the time you guess you woke, it flies up to the window, pecking the glass once with its beak, and then it flaps away into the brisk air.

You set the camera up the following evening, just to check if it was a fluke. Yet again, the crow lands, watching over you as you sleep before flying off in the morning after you wake.

Odd, but honestly not the weirdest thing you’ve experienced by far.

The next evening you leave your window open. There’s no knock in the morning, and for a brief moment you feel sad. Did you scare away your new friend? But - a glint catches your eye - sitting on the windowsill is a shard of broken glass - a light amber color, likely from a broken bottle.

It becomes a habit. Each evening, the crow perches on the branch outside, and the following morning, it leaves a small trinket on your windowsill. You’ve now collected a few bottle caps, some coins (though, oddly, in different currencies), glass of varying colours, and even a random key. The quality of the items the crow brings seems to increase every visit. You start leaving out pieces of fruit and occasionally strips of meat, which are always taken at some point during the night. It’s all fun and games - until it starts bringing you valuables.

Emeralds, sapphires, golden rings, diamonds; you start a collection that would make Tiffany’s seem like a children’s costume jewelry store. You know some of it definitely belongs to real people, because the news is reporting a ‘string of high-profile thefts’ across the entire fucking world.

You entertain the idea of reporting the valuables as stolen and have a minor breakdown about how to explain ‘it wasn’t me - it was this crow!’

You never bring yourself to do it, though. Finders, keepers, and all that.

There’s something comforting about this crow’s presence. The golden glint in its eyes shines impossibly as you go to sleep, and in that moment you feel treasured.

Leviathan (Envy - an insatiable desire for the unattainable, that which does not belong to you)

When you first return to the human world (after your very much warranted ‘mourning’ period, of course) you decide to go and visit one of your favourite places from your childhood - a beach that’s little more than a cove a few minutes walk from your home. Upon arriving, however, you notice the place is packed, and there’s a pang in your chest when you realize that this isn’t just your place anymore. You snap a picture regardless, and send it to one of the group chats on your DDD.

You continue to return though, hoping to catch a time when the beach is quieter. You have more luck in the mornings than the evenings, and slowly you force yourself to wake earlier and earlier just to catch a moment of peace.

At some point, you mention heading down to the beach to one of your friends. Their face sours, and for a moment you think you said something wrong. Perhaps it was the mention of the early start?

Over the coming weeks and months the beach becomes quieter and quieter; the early risers, joggers, and dog walkers slowly petering off until you’re the sole visitor down by the shore. Sometimes you think you see a glint of bright scales out in the ocean, though it’s far bigger than any fish you know to inhabit the nearby waters.

You continue to bring up the beach to your friends, excited about the return to your quiet, safe solitude. Every time you do so, they close off and regard you coldly.

There’s new owners, they say, no one is allowed down at the cove. They kick out anyone not on the approved list.

Well. That’s bizarre. You haven’t encountered any resistance during your many visits, you tell them. Of course you don’t is the response, and you think you’re maybe imagining the bitterness in their voice.

It’s a pattern you begin to notice - exclusive venues in which you’re always on the invite-list. Priority and pre-sale tickets to the hottest events arriving in your inbox. Every time, garnering the bitter eyes of your relatives and acquaintances. It’s exciting, special, to be the one experiencing all this. Made even more so, knowing that so many desire what you have.

You realize that beach was just the start, though it's definitely your favourite of the lot. It’s become a place just for you. You snap a picture of the sun rising over the waves. This one, you post to your instagram, with a single orange heart.

(You also notice that your luck in the gashapons at the arcade has become insanely good. It could be a coincidence, but…)

Satan (Wrath - to seek vengeance; impatience and revenge)

To be fair, you don’t make it a habit of confronting every person who slights you. You’ve had enough drama in the last year to last you a lifetime, and the last thing you want is to go and create more. You’re typically more of a let bygones be bygones type anyway. (Forgive and forget).

It’s not like your life in the human world has a surplus of people trying to wrong you. Occasionally you’ll be cut off while driving and it annoys you, but you continue on with your day. Sometimes your packages will be delivered to your neighbour, and it takes them a few days to let you know, letting you stew in your anxiety about their apparent arrival in the interim. (Forgive and forget).

Over the next few weeks you start to notice more and more coincidences pop up around the more annoying and troublesome people you interact with. A follower who commented something uncomplimentary in response to one of your posts has their account banned and deleted. The annoying neighbor who often parks in your space has their car totaled the day after you try to ask them again to move their damn vehicle. The professor who uncharitably graded your assignment a low pass because he didn’t like your attitude is now under review and has lost his tenure. (Forgive and ████).

It all comes to a head when you’re passing by one of your neighbours as they move their stuff out of the apartment. There’s an eviction notice pinned to their door. It’s not much of a loss - after all, they were the ones who’d keep your mail long past the point of helpfulness. They snark at you as you pass, making a comment about your somewhat smug air, warning you’ll be next.

You don’t even get the chance to respond before there’s a yell from above, and something is falling and - wow. Who knew a falling flower pot could draw so much blood. That’s definitely going to be a pain to get out of your light shirt. It’s with this annoyance that you ring the emergency services to come and save your unconscious (ex)neighbour from bleeding out. (████ ██ ████)

From that moment on, you’re definitely more aware of the karmic coincidences, for lack of a better term. While you avoid provoking people outright, there is a small part of you that revels in satisfaction when those that inconvenience you are inconvenienced themselves. The severity of these coincidences seems to scale to the impact the other person’s actions have on you. If you take advantage of this sometimes, well. Who could prove any of it?

(Retaliate. Remember.)

Asmodeus (Lust - an intense longing; unbridled sexual or amorous desire)

Sure, you have social media. You’re no luddite, and it was your one tether to the human world while you were stuck in Devildom. You quickly learnt that human memes and demon memes were very much not the same (except for a few bizarre crossovers. Both seem to be obsessed with Orbs).

You never really had a huge following though. You had maybe a couple hundred followers across twitter and instagram, averaging maybe 20 likes and similar interactions per post. That is, until recently.

Seemingly overnight, your follower account on all platforms (including your anonymous tumblr account) has skyrocketed. There’s even a notification in your emails from twitter about verification. Just…. What?

You open your accounts to see if maybe it was a specific mention or throwaway meme that somehow caught the attention of the internet at large. Your latest post was a cute pic taken by Asmo during your final week in Devildom. It’s you from behind, gazing out at the twinkling lake by Dia’s castle. It was posted a few days ago, though - and yet the like counter just keeps ticking up and up. The comments on instagram are nonsensical - lots of hearts and starry eyes and a few more suggestive strings of emoji. Your phone continuously buzzes with notifications, and it’s starting to get overwhelming - so you turn on do-not-disturb.

As a bit of an experiment, you decide to post a quick snap of your bewildered face, captioned “so… did y’all mean to follow me or is this some kind of prank?” - no tags, no emoji.

The effect is pretty much instantaneous. Immediately the notification counters tick up and up and up. There’s a few flattering comments (and a few not-so-flattering ones), and just as many hearts as your previous post. One comment, from an account you don’t know, stands out to you: “Imagine being *this* attractive but also so humble it hurts. Your fave could never.”

Over the next few weeks you continue to post - from selfies to scenic shots to random shower ideas to your thoughts about Succession and why you think cousin Greg is endgame. No matter what you post, it always seems to be a hit. Even that incomprehensible keysmash you accidentally posted to twitter as you fell asleep. There’s even Buzzfeed listicles (“27 times MC stole our hearts with a smile”). Asking your followers doesn’t help either - it seems like overnight you have lodged yourself in the public consciousness as a desirable figure. They all clamor to get your acknowledgement, and you quickly find even the simple act of liking someone else’s post can be cause enough for others to become jealous.

It’s flattering. Really. It's doing wonders for your self-image, getting all these compliments on your photos and selfies. You definitely find yourself starting a few trends here and there, and hey, you're just doing your job to make the world that much more aesthetically desirable.

(Out of your thousands of followers, only one stands out to you. The first to like every post, to comment “YESSSSSS MY LOVE!!”: Asm♥deus.)

Beelzebub (Gluttony - to overindulge and over-consume to the point of wastefulness)

You were pleasantly surprised to find your pantry fully stocked upon your return to the human world. You were expecting to have to clean out the stuff that had inevitably staled in your year away, and restock from scratch. Except, no, you don’t have to because absolutely everything you could ever want is currently filling your kitchen to the point of overflowing. Everything from fine, artisanal products to cheap junk food. It keeps you fed for so long that you find yourself having to chuck out a few fruits, vegetables, and breads that have gone off because you didn’t eat them in time.

You keep expecting to have to go out and replenish the supplies for yourself, but no, the pantry is ever-full. Fresh produce seems to appear out of nowhere, and you never find yourself short of an ingredient when it comes time to start cooking. There’s always just slightly too much - your garbage is often full with uneaten food-waste.

This inexplicable phenomenon continues, and impossibly escalates. There’s random food deliveries during the week on the nights you’re too tired to cook for yourself. Your cravings are instantly satisfied by the appearance of precisely what you were longing for. You think maybe it’s some kind of magic - it’s not out of the question, especially with your powerful friends and lovers. You try not to think about the cost - monetary, or otherwise…

As you’re walking past your favorite bakery, you hear a woman complain that they never seem to have their famous macarons anymore. You overhear the server apologize, and try to explain that the lot are often bought right out of the oven. With a jolt, you realize that those very same macarons are the ones that are stacked up beside your fridge, way more than you could possibly want or eat.

With a guilty jolt, you realize that it hasn’t occurred to you until this point that you could just give away some of the food. There’s no reason for it to sit in your kitchen until it goes off - there’s plenty of people who could appreciate it, after all. And yet…

You don’t approach the woman, or offer any of the macarons. You continue to hoard your food until it goes off. You appreciate the rich, tasty ingredients, and especially enjoy doing things like chucking A-grade marbled steaks haphazardly into the pan for a quick sear, none of the careful preparation it would normally merit.

This is your food. And no one can tell you how to manage it. Nor should they

Belphegor (Sloth - the forgoing of responsibility, to be disinclined towards effort or exertion)

A soft, warm hand cups your face, while another plays with the ends of your hair. Breath, not your own, fans over your lips as he leans in close. “Stay with me, my human.” You crack open your eyes, and for a brief moment, you get a glimpse of a soft, sleepy smile before you feel yourself falling through nothing and you - wake up.

Though you’re not the type to really remember your dreams, you know that they’ve been especially sweet since returning. The fragments that you do remember feel warmer, safer, and more loving than anything you’ve felt while in the human world.

You were already a bit of a homebody before your trip, leaving social engagements early to go home and rest, but now you don’t even bother going out. Not while sleep is calling to you so sweetly.

You find yourself sleeping through your alarms more and more often. Not even the brightest, sunniest day - the type you missed while down in Devildom - could stir within you the interest or energy to be active, to enjoy the fresh air.

None of this matters. In your dreams, you’re with them, with him. The longer you sleep, the more you remember.

Your breath is slow and deep, and you nestle your head into the warm, living pillow. His hands ghost over your sides and you hear him hum in contentment. You try to lean into his touch, to feel him. “Lucifer told me that I need to stop doing this,” he says, and you shudder. That’s not right - you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want to lose him. You feel his smile against your forehead. “He says you need more than just sleep. That you’re wasting away.” You try to tell him that Lucifer is wrong, you’re fine, you just need more sleep. But even now, in this place of dreams, the energy doesn’t come to you. All you’re able to do is sink into him even more. “That wouldn’t be so bad, though. You’ll become mine forever. No one could make you leave.”

You wake after that dream feeling like you haven’t slept at all. There’s a tiredness in your very being, and all you want to do is roll over on your pillow and return to him. What job, what, school, what hobbies? Nothing interests you anymore. You miss him, you miss them so damn much.

Nonetheless, through some strength that you’re not even sure is your own, you pull yourself out of bed and into the shower.The hot water and the softly scented soaps that remind you of Asmo rejuvenate you and you begin your day with a breakfast that would make even Beel feel full.

The next night, you go to sleep, and you do not dream. Nor the next.

It’s months before you close your eyes and you feel his touch. In that time you’ve been beset by kleptomaniac crows, have become somewhat of an internet personality, and have chucked out more stale loaves of bread than you could ever know what to do with.

“You need some time off. Both of us do. Come on, we can sleep like this, together…”

Lucifer (Pride - to put yourself before and above others)

It takes you longer than you’d ever be willing to admit that the reason why all these strange occurrences are happening is because either consciously or subconsciously, there are seven extremely powerful entities who are missing you.

You try to distract yourself from that thought by focusing more intently on your studies. A passage is circled in one of the textbooks you pick up from the library, unwilling to pay full price for an elective subject’s resource. Religious Studies, because if nothing else it’ll be a bit of a laugh. “From pride, all other sins flourish. It is the father of all sins.”

It hits you all at once.

The hoarding of gems and wealth and your reluctance to part with it. The coveting of your favourite place, and the desire to keep it all to yourself. The satisfaction of your enemies those that annoy you facing retribution. Reveling in the admiration of strangers. The inclination to over-indulge and the refusal to share. The assumption that outside of yourself, nothing else matters, not a single one of your responsibilities. These all are in response to the world bending to the whims of your loves, but your own feelings, your attitude stems from your Pride. After all, who else can claim they hold the loyalty of angels, demons, and immortals? Who else bears the love and affection of all the Avatars of Sin?

(How very prideful of you to assume that you could live unchanged after that year, to return to a life that doesn’t really feel like yours to begin with)

The best thing, the worst thing is that you’re so comfortable with this type of thinking. Even now you realize that hey, this is probably Lucifer talking, you wouldn’t give any of it up. It’s comforting. It reminds you of them. It makes you feel loved.

(When you return to Devildom, you never quite work up the courage to ask the brothers whether any of it was deliberate or not. Lucifer does mention in a quiet moment that they were all a mess, even him, without your presence. They were missing something, someone. “It was sub-optimal, of course,” he says, “which is something we should rectify so that it doesn’t happen a second time.” “I thought both heaven and hell have rules against humans living here on a more permanent basis?” “I’ve been to war against heaven for the sake of the ones I love. Between myself and my brothers, neither heaven nor hell could stand against us should I have to go to war again.”)

Back to Masterlist | There's more fics in this same universe now

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Night at The Museum x The Old Guard crossover

Standard museum heist set up. The Old Guard discovers the museum has something that belonged to one of them and they want it back and the obvious plan is to steal it back. So like in the TTT issue, one or two of them get a job at the museum to figure out the floor plans and security system.

"Okay, this is a weird one," Nile says. "Their nighttime employee is just one guy, the night guard. No other security, no janitors or anything. Just him."

So they think it'll be an easy job. Just avoid the one guy, work with the cameras, etc. They know what they're doing by now.

Except, of course, when they actually get inside, it becomes the weirdest fucking thing they've ever experienced in their lives. They're attacked by a group of assorted Huns, cavemen, and Civil War dummy soldiers. A lion they all saw in the Sahara exhibit nearly rips Andy's arm off. A monkey steals Nile's phone. They all have little toothpick arrows sticking out of their clothes and skin.

They're captured, of course, and they're wondering what the hell is going on. Larry is about to lock them up until the police can come pick them up in the morning, about to give the whole "No one will ever believe you" speech, when Ahkmenrah walks in to see what's going on.

"Andromache the Scythian?"

"Ahkmenrah?"

Because of course they knew each other, way back when. Andy had been sad to see such a sweet young man die so early in his reign. He had shown such promise.

"You two know each other?" Everyone says at once.

Then comes two very awkward explanations as to who they are and what's going on. Because once the 4000+ year old pharaoh and the 6000+ year old woman admit to knowing each other, there's no way to avoid that conversation. It's a weird night for everyone there.

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one after the photos - Part Two

My masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist! | Buy me a coffee

Read Part One here!

Description | Once again, it's a set of photos of the band that has your head spinning. Once again, they're there to help you out...

Content | Pure, filthy smut

Pairing | fem!Reader x Everyone

Word Count | 5845

Special shout out to @till-you-scream-and-cry who kept me sane and helped me when I was stuck writing this 😘

***

Twelve weeks. It had been twelve weeks since Victoria had caught you with your hands in your pants. Twelve weeks since the most amazing, mind-blowing sex you had ever had. Twelve weeks since all of Måneskin had taken their turns with you.

It hadn't been awkward afterwards, and you were more than thankful for it. If anything, it had introduced a new dimension in your friendship with all of them, one where intimacy, nudity, and sexuality weren't taboos anymore. More than once you'd found yourself kissing one of them, discussing fantasies, or waking up naked in bed next to them. Yet, in all twelve weeks, you had never had the chance to relive that first time again. To have all of them at the same time, the overwhelming feeling of being devoured not by one but four bodies. And as open as you'd gotten with each other, it was something that still hadn't tumbled from your lips.

You told yourself to stop thinking about it, at least for the moment. Making sure the pot of pasta wouldn't boil over was more important - Vic had given you the key to her place ages ago and knowing that the band had been busy with photo shootings all day and planned to crash out at her apartment afterward, you had decided to treat them to a homemade dinner just in time for their arrival.

You were in the middle of setting the table, when the door to the apartment busted open, four loud voices filling the space immediately.

"Wait!" One of them, you were pretty sure it was Thomas, suddenly shouted. "Is someone here? And are they cooking?"

"Weirdest break-in ever, right?" You laughed back as you poked your head around the corner. "Dinner is served, guys."

***

"So, do you or do you not want to see the pictures we shot today?"

The table had been cleared of everything apart from the wine glasses, but apart from that, no one had moved, still revelling in the atmosphere and the glasses of red. Until Victoria pulled out her phone, that was. The grins that now painted everyone's faces immediately made you suspicious of what they were about to show you. Still, you weren't prepared for the sight that greeted you when Victoria turned the screen towards you.

You had expected something extravagant, something sexy, something like the photos for I Wanna Be Your Slave, but this had your breath caught in your throat. All four of them, completely naked, oiled up, looking at the camera with shameless fuck-me faces.

"We're obviously gonna censor this before we post it but I thought you deserved the unfiltered version," Vic explained and it was only then that your brain caught up on what you were seeing. Victoria's hand between her legs was barely hiding anything, her pussy fully on show, and next to Ethan's hand, peeking out from underneath Damiano's knee, was the head of his dick. Your mouth felt dry at the vision in front of you, as a throbbing sensation started to emerge between your legs.

"So..." Damiano drawled, making you look up just to see the cockiest expression on his face. "Thoughts?"

You didn't want to give yourself away, not yet, even if you were well aware they'd long learned to read all your little signs.

"Well, it's a very aesthetically pleasing photo. I wish I looked half as good naked and oiled up."

It was a cop-out, and they all knew it. However, you also knew they wouldn't let you off the hook so easily.

"Now that's not true," Ethan commented with the kind of calm only he possessed. "But I'm sure we would all happily convince you otherwise anyway. A little... photoshoot of our own."

"I... I don't know, I -"

Then Ethan was up on his feet, stalking towards you like you were his prey, but with the utmost kindness in his eyes. He grabbed your chin, making sure you were looking up at him properly. As if you had any choice but to stare.

"Now, is this because you're nervous, or do you actually not want to do this? Because I think it's time for a repeat of what happened last time you saw our photos, but only if you're one hundred percent in. So, what's the verdict?"

"I want it." The words were out of your mouth before you'd finished thinking them, but you didn't regret it. You wanted it, them, all of it, whatever they would offer you.

"Good," Ethan simply replied before leaning down and pressing a harsh, demanding kiss to your lips. You melted like putty under him. You were about to lose yourself in it, draw him closer, when another pair of hands suddenly appeared on your body, pulling you up from your seat. As soon as you were in a standing position, they impatiently tugged at your shirt, and only when it was drawn over your head did you turn around and face Damiano.

Not wasting another moment, he pushed you onto the table, glasses rattling as you took your seat, before he pulled towards him again by your thighs until your body was flush against his. His kiss was much less deliberate, more excited and hasty than Ethan's but you didn't mind one bit as his hands wandered along your body, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your back. When he let go, his lips attacked your neck instead. You instinctively turned your head, offering more skin, begging for more touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Thomas now, lazily sipping on the rest of his wine. He seemed unbothered, simply enjoying the show, but you knew that the slight pink tint sitting just on the top of his cheeks meant he was in deep.

Victoria, however, was less satisfied.

"Okay, less making out on the kitchen table, more action in the bedroom please," she demanded. "I'll go get the oil and when I'm back you better be naked. All of you."

It didn't matter what anyone else's plans were - when Vic spoke, no one even considered refusing. So, in what almost turned into a mad scramble, all of you were stumbling towards her bedroom, clothes mindlessly being thrown around, almost falling as you tried to remove your pants while on the move. Thomas clumsily pushed against you, and as both of you lost your balance, you simply submitted to letting yourself fall onto Vic's king-size bed, easily pulling the guitarist along with you.

He landed on top of you, only just managing to catch himself on his arms without putting all of his weight on you. Moving in between your legs as if he was simply meant to be there, you felt his cock growing against your thigh. He took advantage of the gasp escaping you, as he bent down to shove his tongue in your mouth. You weren't complaining. Kissing Thomas was heavenly. There was no strategy behind it, no carefully planned moves, just hands and lips led by desire.

"So, bad news, kinda," Vic interrupted, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, equally naked. "Unless you wanna smother her in olive oil, I'm all out."

"Aw, but how are we gonna recreate the photoshoot then!"

The dangerous glimmer in Vic's eyes as she stared at Damiano told you she had not come back without an idea.

"But you know what? I think that's not going to be a problem, is it?" Her eyes flickered back and forth between the naked men in the room. "I'm sure we've got enough we can cover her with."

You didn't want to assume to know what she was thinking about, but if it was anywhere close to where your mind was going, you were about to have a really good night.

"Thomas, Damiano, go spread her legs for me."

The guitarist easily slid off you, down your body, to grab your ankle. Damiano had moved onto the bed on your other side. Both of them smirked at each other as they slowly, slowly pulled your legs apart, keeping your knees bent, until you were fully on display. Victoria sauntered over you, not a hurry in the world, while you were already on high alert. A quick look to your side revealed Ethan, leaning against the dresser. If it hadn't been for his hard cock proudly standing between his legs, he would've looked completely unbothered. You were glad to know better.

Victoria kneeled between your legs, taking all the time in the world to study your body, letting her gaze travel from your face downwards, until it settled on your cunt. Little sighs and appreciative hums reached you. You were tempted to wiggle, somehow make someone do something, but you knew it would simply end up with the boys grasping onto your legs more tightly.

"You're basically drenched, baby. Did that picture turn you on so much? The idea of all of us naked around you? Or have you been waiting for this for a while, just walking around in a constant state of arousal, dying for us to take pity on your and fuck you good?"

You didn't know if she expected an answer, and you weren't sure if you were able to give her one, but when her fingers touched your clit ever so briefly before travelling to your hole, any idea of forming words was out of the window anyway. Without warning, two fingers plunged into you, stretching you easily, and Damiano and Thomas fought to keep your legs still, as they threatened to kick out over the sudden intrusion. Victoria curled her fingers inside of you, and when she removed them, looking at you with a grin, you realised what she was doing.

She was trying to collect as much of your wetness as possible.

Holding up her fingers, which were absolutely covered in you, she carefully climbed up your body until she came to sit on your stomach. In one sweeping movement, she let her fingers wander from the pulse point on your neck downwards towards your collarbones.

"Aw, I wanted to put some between your perfect little tits too, but I guess my fingers weren't wet enough," Victoria pouted in mock disappointment. You were already having a hard time keeping your hands by your side, but you had learned that touching her without permission often ended with even more torture.

"Good thing I can supply some as well."

In awe, you watched as she moved herself up just a little, fingers performatively dancing along her belly until they dipped between her legs. Victoria touching herself was always a vision. She didn't fake anything, she would never let out a moan just for the sake of it, and it made it all the more captivating. Especially with the way her eyes never left yours, even as they slightly fluttered. When she removed her fingers again, presenting them to you, they were just as wet as they had been after she had touched you. Then, with a cocky smirk on her face, she now spread the additional fluid down your chest and between the valley of your breasts.

"I think we're getting there," she grinned. "Ethan, go grab me the polaroid camera from my dresser. This is supposed to be a photo shooting after all. Right, cucciola?"

You weren't sure if you told her yes, or if you nodded, if a moan escaped your mouth, or if you simply unravelled under her, but as Ethan was busy turning the dresser upside down by the sounds of it, Victoria leaned down, not only letting you feel the wetness between her legs on your stomach now, but also easily slipping one of your nipples into her mouth. And then another sensation.

You had barely paid any attention to your legs anymore, solely focused on the bassist sitting on top of you, but suddenly you could feel lips attaching themselves to both of your calves. Little kisses, dissolving into sucking and the odd nip, wandered along them now, no rhyme or rhythm between the two, and when they reached your thighs, you couldn't help but let them fall apart, craving more, ready to give them more room.

Victoria let go of your nipple with an obscene noise, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to it until she leaned back and it broke. The whimper was unintentional. Ethan was handing her the camera now, but you barely noticed it as your eyes rolled back at the lips reaching the crux of your thighs and then, out of nowhere, a long lick against your slit.

"Well, it's not oil, but she's looking quite slick already, isn't she, Ethan?"

"Her left nipple looks very neglected. Can't have that for the photo."

You weren't sure what you expected, but it wasn't the way he positioned himself over you to spit on it, a long drop of saliva leaving his mouth and landing on your breast. Victoria made quick work of rubbing it in ever so slightly. The camera was lifted to her eye and you briefly panicked about the way you would look, the expression your face would hold, where you were supposed to look. But then a tongue probed your entrance, as another flicked your clit, and your head fell backward, all control over facial muscles lost.

Flash.

You were in too deep to care. You were about to let yourself fall, enjoying the feeling of numerous bodies on you, but then, as if on command, they all left. Victoria had sat up and moved off you, as Thomas and Damiano stood back up at the end of the bed, no hands or tongues anywhere near you anymore. You wanted to cry out at the loss, at the coldness covering you now, and your hands were pathetically reaching out for them.

"Well, what are we going to do with you? Covered in cum and spit already," Damiano smirked as he watched you. "I'd ask for your preference on who gets to fuck you first but it's not like we're going to let you decide. What do you think, Ethan?"

The long-haired man was still standing next to the bed, looking down at you as if he were ready to devour you.

"I think it's time she gets a taste of me."

He didn't move a muscle, but you were up on your knees in seconds. Whatever he was willing to do to you, you were so willing to let him. He only let you have the illusion of control for a second.

"On your hands and knees. I want your mouth on me."

You obliged immediately, getting into position in front of him. As you looked up through your lashes, absolutely submissive and ready to bend to his every wish, mouth already opening in anticipation, you could see his composure waver, if only for a second. Then his hand was in your hair, pulling you towards him with determination, and you couldn't do anything but swallow his cock. The load groan above you spurred you on, made you try to take on more, even though you knew he was still trying to control your movements. He wasn't exactly easy to deepthroat, but by god, you were willing to try. Anything to get the man to come undone.

Alternating between sucking him, and letting go to leave licks and kisses along his length, you found yourself dying to get your hands on him, touch him in any way but with your mouth, but he knew what he was doing when he put you in this position. You were tempted to move, bring your knees forward so you could free your hands, but you were well aware you weren't in charge here. So instead, you gave Ethan your worst. Hollowing out your cheeks, drawing him in, moaning around his mouth until he was shaking.

You had been concentrating on him so much, you had almost forgotten about the other three still in the room with you. It was only when a hand came down on your buttcheek, making you jump and Ethan groan at how much deeper you accidentally took him, that you realised you could hear the others moaning behind you. Then a mouth left a kiss in the same place, and before you knew it, your cheeks were being spread apart and a tongue was diving in between your folds.

You couldn't stop yourself. Letting Ethan slip out of your mouth, you clumsily looked past your shoulder to take in the view. Oh, the view. Victoria was on her knees next to the bed, head fully hidden behind your body. You didn't need to watch to know what she was doing, you felt her fingers and lips and tongue on you just fine. Damiano and Thomas were sitting on the chaise longue behind her, getting the perfect view of everything. Both of them were slowly stroking themselves, Thomas rather lazily, leaning back with his legs spread, Damiano more focused, bending forwards as if he didn't want to miss a second of the action.

Ethan didn't let you enjoy the show for long, roughly pulling on your hair to get you to turn back around.

"Eyes on me, baby," he smirked but before you had the chance to reply, he had grasped your chin, pulling your mouth open and pushing back in.

You eagerly swallowed, trying to focus on your performance, but it was impossible to ignore Victoria between your thighs. She had you writhing and moaning within seconds, much to Ethan's pleasure as well, but every time you came even close to an approaching orgasm, she would switch it up, go slower, or let go of you altogether.

Letting Ethan slip in deeper, you did your best to concentrate on him, the way he was groaning above you, hand still in your hair, taking him as far as you could without gagging. But then Victoria removed her fingers and her tongue from you, and as she continued to spread your thighs, you found yourself clenching around nothing.

"Fuck, look at her, just gagging to have something inside of her, she doesn't even care what it is."

Thomas sighed deeply, Damiano mumbled something you couldn't understand, then some fumbling and

Flash.

Fuck, you could only imagine the picture they had just taken. But then your mind was clouded with another pair of hands on your, distinctively different from Vic's, and without warning, someone pushed into you. You almost came undone right then and there and you weren't even aware of whose dick you were taking, not willing to turn around again.

But then his hips started snapping against you, movements already losing coordination in his chase for release, fingers digging deeply into your flesh, and when a whine escaped his mouth, you knew it was undeniably Thomas. A multitude of wet noises emerged from behind you and you were dying to watch, see Damiano and Victoria getting off, touching themselves as you got fucked, but Ethan held you firmly in place.

You knew he was getting close now, impressive stamina aside, but when he started twitching in your mouth, he roughly wrecked himself away. His eyes travelled away from you and you could only guess that he was locking eyes with Thomas who, as if on command, lifted you up, until you were sitting in his lap, back to his chest, while he kept pounding into you. You reached out, willing to finish him off with your hands, but Thomas clumsily grabbed your wrists instead, holding them tightly as he tried not to lose his rhythm. It seemed like no one would allow you the use of your hands that night.

Ethan was jacking himself off now, a determined look on his face as he watched your tits bounce with every thrust Thomas gave you. It didn't take long when Thomas found the perfect spot inside of you, hitting it until you were nothing but putty in his arms, head thrown back and jaw falling open. Two, three more strokes, and Ethan came, spilling all over your breasts and stomach. You barely got the time to register it, revel in the feeling, when Thomas pushed you forward onto your hands again.

He rammed into you quickly now, and hard, and you had trouble keeping yourself up as you let him use you. His whines became louder, hands losing his grip on your hips, craving that orgasm the way you were. You wanted more, more perfect touches to the right spot inside of you, more feeling, any pressure against your clit, but you weren't getting anything and suddenly Thomas' dick slipped out of you, and with a determined hand on your back, he kept you in position, as his orgasm took over and you could feel him come all over your lower back, dripping down onto your buttcheeks.

Flash.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous just covered in us," Damiano sighed. "Can't wait to get my turn."

But it wasn't him that moved onto you. Instead, Victoria pushed you onto your back once again, skin uncomfortably sticking to the fabric underneath you thanks to Thomas, but even as the filthy feeling took over you, all you could do was moan at the sensation.

"You just love us using you, don't you? Getting all our pleasure from you while you just take it, whining, not getting any release," Victoria hummed before kissing you, passionately and deeply. You mewled under her, welcoming the attention and the love. It didn't last for long.

In one swift movement, she let go of you, throwing her leg over one of your thighs, sitting down on it. You could feel her wetness against your skin immediately. She didn't hesitate, instantly starting to slowly move up and down your thigh, a smirk on her face as she watched you. She looked like a goddess, naked and unhinged on top of you, starting to throw her head back as she increased her speed, and you didn't notice your hands were on her tits until she ceased all movements.

"Someone's getting a little handsy," she teased, briefly grabbing onto your hands to give her own breasts a squeeze under them, a content sigh on her lips, then taking them off her body completely. "Looks like I might need some help keeping her restrained."

You looked over at the boys again, trying to anticipate what was coming next, gauging their reactions. Ethan had joined the other two now, and in contrast to Thomas, who looked happily fucked out and ready to fall asleep, he was alert and watching with curious eyes. Damiano seemed to be on the brink of losing his mind, now more than ever, unable to keep his hands off his hard cock. He didn't wait for another suggestion, quickly climbing onto the bed next to you.

"Now what do we do with you?" He grinned, voice betraying the calm and collected impression he was trying to make. "Do you need me to hold you still? Because you can't fucking behave for one second and not touch Victoria as she's riding your thigh? Or do I need to distract you altogether, hm? Maybe put your hands on my cock so you can do something useful with them?"

You couldn't help but moan at his words, too overwhelmed with the images he was creating in your head. Then Victoria started moving again, gliding her wet folds against you, and suddenly it was you on the verge of losing your mind. Damiano's hand was on your chin immediately, roughly pulling your face towards him.

"Looks like someone doesn't know how to behave or answer questions, so I'm going to make that decision for you."

It didn't take long to figure out what he meant, as he grabbed onto the hand closest to him and wrapped it around his cock. You eagerly complied, moving up and down his shaft, but he seemed dissatisfied. With a grunt, he pulled your hand off, opening up your palm to spit into it, before putting it back, moaning at the sensation of slick wetness around his dick. You did your best to keep a rhythm, tracing along the veins, thumbing as the head, before fully covering him again. But your concentration wavered when Victoria started getting louder.

She was wildly bucking against you now, hair swaying as she moved, eyes closed and mouth open and it was impossible not to look. With a particular forward motion, her knee brushed against your cunt, not even hitting any particular spot, but it had you mewling and sighing, starved for touch and release. She noticed with a smirk, and on the next move, she made sure to do it again, on purpose now, more skin against you, just that tiny bit more friction, as her knee lodged itself between your legs.

Apparently, Damiano had noticed where your focus had drifted off to, leaning over to see the way your wetness was gathering on Vic's knee.

"Fuck please tell me I'm still getting some of that," he groaned, rutting his hips against your hand, but stopped when Victoria's moans rose in volume.

She was moving more quickly now, fingers clawing into your skin as she chased her release, hair wild and eyes closing as she unashamedly gasped. You couldn't keep your eyes off her, Damiano's dick still hard and heavy in your hand but neglected as you watched her. The loss of control was imminent, and with one more perfect feeling of friction against your thigh, she came apart, moaning wildly, riding it out on you and you were dying for a touch, for her hands between your legs, for any sort of help to get to the same place.

It didn't take her long to return to her usual self, smirking back down at you, hair all over the place, and with one swift action she was off your thigh. You missed her heat and wetness immediately. She turned to Damiano, whose gaze was still solely trained on your soaked thigh and pussy, grinning.

"Suit yourself," Victoria grinned, switching places with Damiano as she knelt next to you on the bed. One of her hands was smoothing down your hair as she looked at you with a mixture of adoration and assertion, then, suddenly distracted, she grabbed the small polaroid camera from the nightstand. "Just make sure you get a picture first."

You only just managed to watch the way she tossed the item at him for a second, before she grabbed onto your face, pulling on your lower lip to get you to open up, and immediately let her tongue enter your mouth. The kiss was filthy, noisy, and you couldn't get enough. Your hands wandered onto her head, grasping at her hair, almost amazed she let you use your hands for once.

Flash.

The sound of the camera tumbling onto the carpet with a thick thud distracted you, and Damiano made use of the fact that you wrecked your mouth from Victoria's, aligning himself and pushing into you roughly. His low groan matched the cry you let out. Your hands were trying to reach him, trying to touch, but Victoria pinned them down onto the bed with a grin.

"Oh no, baby, no touching."

You struggled against her, back arching off the bed as Damiano fucked you, feeling so full but desperate for more friction where you needed it. You were writhing shamelessly now, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, then you turned your head, the chaise longue back in view. If you hadn't been so preoccupied with getting pounded into the mattress, you would have giggled. While Ethan was watching the scene with determined eyes, already growing hard again, Thomas had all but collapsed, head on the armrest, fast asleep. But this was no time for laughing.

Damiano was rapidly turning into a whiny mess, a handclumsily grabbing onto your breasts as he increased his thrusts. All you could do was moan and take it. He was hitting you deliciously, but none of it was quite enough.

"Come on, Damiano, I think we need one more picture," Victoria grinned. She was still tightly holding onto your wrists, but her thumbs had started softly stroking the skin. You weren't sure if she was aware, but you appreciated it all the same. "Why don't you go paint her face... you know, like she's your Mona Lisa?"

Ethan audibly snorted next to you, obviously not impressed by her questionable sense of humour, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but pant and wait. Yet, Damiano didn't seem opposed to the idea. A couple more fucks fell from his lips, then he pulled out, and you wanted to sob at the emptiness inside you. He shuffled upward, leaning over you, one, two, three strokes. You only just managed to close your eyes in anticipation, before it hit you while Damiano came with low groans.

It was Victoria going back to petting your head that made you open your eyes again, just in time for one last flash. You didn't realise that the tears had started flowing until she gently wiped them away.

"Still doing okay, honey?"

You were nodding feverishly through it, someone was cleaning your face with some tissue, and all you knew was love, so much love for these people, for the way they knew exactly how to treat you, for the way they were taking care of you, always.

"I just need to come," you finally sobbed. "Please, please."

Everyone seemed to move all at once. You barely registered Victoria ordering the others into positions, waking Thomas back up in the process, but you didn't really care. All you needed was to come undone, and you knew they were going to get you there. Someone's lips were on yours and you quickly recognised them to be Damiano's, only indulging you for a second. The grasp on your wrists tightened again, holding them over your head, but it was comforting rather than restricting, knowing you wouldn't have to do anything but lie back and get taken care of. Someone moved between your legs and then your ankles were being held again, spreading you out and keeping you still.

"Open your eyes, baby," Victoria softly murmured to you. "Watch."

You obeyed with difficulty, glancing down at the scene. Ethan in front of you, Thomas and Damiano to your left and right. The drummer held eye contact, staring at you so intensely you were sure he could see into your soul, as he slowly pushed in. Chants of yes, yes, yes fell from your lips, your walls clenching around his dick, completely fulfilled, knowing this time they would let you come. Ethan carefully picked up speed, angling himself in just the way that had you shouting for him, hands struggling against Vic's grasp as she left tiny kisses on them. You could already feel the sensation building in you, having spent so much time pleasing and receiving but never getting any release. Ethan's thrusts were perfectly timed, hard and forceful, and all you needed was just a little more.

"Touch her, Thomas."

You were already crying out at Victoria's words, but when he followed her suggestion, long fingers sneaking between your legs and onto your clit, you were screaming. Your mind was clouding, eyes closing on their own account, as you took in the pleasure. Your body was spasming, legs trying to kick out, but everyone's hold on you kept you in place, kept you in the perfect position. Hair was sticking to your forehead now. Hips buckling against Ethan as you chased your release. You couldn't be sure what sounds were leaving your mouth anymore, fully drowning in your own arousal.

And then it hit.

You came loudly and unashamedly, clenching around his cock, back arching, head thrown back. Your orgasm was holding onto you with force, travelling through your whole body, goosebumps appearing in its wake. For a moment, you were convinced you were going to black out, shuddering through it. It was like your body wasn't your own anymore, taken over my absolute pleasure, and you were convinced you had never felt this sublime in your life. Ethan's groan alerted you of his own orgasm, and finally, finally, you gave in, quieting down, limbs completely boneless as you sunk into the mattress.

Everything was a blur. Ethan pulling out. Thomas removing his fingers. The grasp on your ankles and wrists loosening. Their touch leaving you altogether, only for a moment. Then wipes and towels on your body, cleaning you up, calming you and comforting you at the same time. You didn't know how much time was passing, but suddenly someone lifted you up, easily carrying you away from the bed, and then hot water engulfed you. It was perfect.

You took another moment before you fully opened your eyes again, focusing on the people around you. Seeing slight signs of worry, you did your best to send all of them a serene smile, one by one, painted by exhaustion but perfectly honest. Ethan bent down to you, a soft kiss pressing to your forehead. All you could do was lean into it. Damiano followed, then Thomas. When Victoria stepped up to the bathtub, you lazily let one of your hands travel out of the water, and weakly grasp onto her wrist.

"Can you get in with me? I don't want to be alone right now."

Her smile was all you needed to scoot forward, making some space for her. She slipped in behind you, pulling you against her chest, between her legs, until you were fully engulfed by her. The bathroom was quiet now, you hadn't even noticed the others leave or close the door behind them.

You cuddled into Victoria, melting into her embrace and the water around you. She held you close, arms wrapped around you, and left little kisses on your cheek, your neck, the parts of your shoulders that were sticking out of the water. You slowly but surely felt yourself coming back to earth.

A crash from the other side of Victoria's flat interrupted your peaceful moment, causing both of you to erupt into giggles.

"What on earth was that?" You asked, softly, still exhausted.

"It better be the guys changing the sheets and not them fighting over who gets to stare at your photos first."

You couldn't help letting another bubble of laughter ripple through you.

"Hope they're any good. The pictures, I mean. I'm not exactly used to being in front of a camera. Much less when I'm in that kinda position."

Victoria grabbed your chin, turning your head around to silence your doubts with a deep kiss.

"You were perfect. And so hot. You know what?"

You only let out a hum, waiting for her reply as you almost felt yourself drifting off.

"Next time it might be me getting off to your pictures."

It was an idea you could live with very well.

***

Taglist | @mywritingonlyfans @damianodavide @lizstans @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @tabi-toast @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @ilwiwbysmv @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @foryourllove @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @ohtorchio @bidet-and-legolas @katyldamusic @fuckim-so-gay @petit-poussin @buttercup-beeee @fenhakwe @solacestyles @weareoddlydrawn @alina-exe @dannasixxworld @gr8rainbowpunk @maneskinsimpie33 @l0standn0tf0und @iosonoarina @idyllicbutterfly @odilevonbrekker

[elsyrel]

Arcana headcanons: main 6 and how they use the internet

I thought I wouldn’t write any more headcanons, but... lmao. What can I say? It’s funnier than I expected. I’m not the most versed person on social media myself, but I’m writting this anyway. Modern AU: 

Asra

Watches anime on pirate webs. Everytime it takes 5 to 10 minutes to start the episode because he doesn’t have Adblock installed. If you tell him to install it, he laughs and assures you he will. Next time, he hasn’t.

Aesthetic Instagram. Varies from the most beautiful art to the most absurd psychedelic nonsense.

Posts a controversial bomb on delicate site (twitter), and magically disappears when the discourse starts as if nothing had happened.

Has several art accounts where he posts from drawings to artesanal crafts. Sells commissions but obviously doesn’t pay taxes. 

Offers tarot readings to strangers. Uses thousands of emoticons to sound as unthreatening as possible.

Nadia

Exhaustive + extremely technical tutorials. Used by university cathedratics in their classes on daily basis without credit.

Periodically recieves several offers from companies to become an influencer. Politely rejects them all every time.

Not very interested in social media, uses the internet mainly for research. However, she is surprisingly generous with likes and reblogs for her friends.

Builds her own computer by buying each individual component and ensambling it all together. The result is a monster with the power of a NUCLEAR REACTOR, even though she doesn’t even need so much potency. Somehow, she manages to make it aesthetically pleasing and elegant.

Always... always... always grammatically correct, no matter the setting.

Julian

He is like a grandpa. Doesn’t understand shit. Has Windows XP as operating system. Calls the IT guy to delete the rejected documents from the recycle bin.

Mispronounces all social media names. No matter how many times you correct him, next time he will mispronounce it again. The weirdest thing is he never pronounces it the same way twice. You suspect that sometimes he does it on purpose to pull your leg.

Accidentally downloads multiple virus while trying to watch the most anodyne film. When weird shit starts to happen, he freaks out as if the government hackers were after him.

Resends the corniest chains. He sees nothing bad with Comic Sans font, or with pure red text over pure blue back. Your eyes will bleed.

Uses facebook to flirt with single moms and dads in his area.

Muriel

Ghosts everyone on whatsapp. He checks new messages once every 6 days at most.

Has a secret Tumblr nobody but Asra knows about. Follows mainly bird tematic blogs. Likes mainly funny videos of chickens and cute animals.  500 Likes. 0 Reblogs. 0 Posts.

Incognito mode for absolutely EVERYTHING, no matter how innocent. If he accidentally enters the Google page without incognito mode, he deletes the historial.

Sticks a piece of tape on the computer camera, just in case.

Listens to music in the shittiest quality and doesn’t give a fuck.

Portia

Cat. Picture. Hell. 70% of her phone memory are just pictures of random cats. Nine hundred and eighty seven photos of Pepi, and counting.

Posts advice for garden care... and it’s really, really good. Really thoughtful, with tons of examples and pictures. If someone asks something, she always knows the answer.

Has a youtube channel with videos of her exploring abandoned buildings, recorded by herself or Julian. Base of followers slowly but steadily going up.

Frequently makes funny videos of dumb stuff. All of them with shitty quality and too moved. A few of them have gone viral. 

Meme avalanch in the group chat at 7 in the fucking morning. There is no meme she doesn't know. The bombardment of memes and puns by whatsapp is constant and endless. Run.

Lucio

The most OBSSESSED with social media. Has an account on every single one of them and literally never shuts up. He gets really frustrated when he realizes that gaining followers is not as easy as he thought. Posts the most stupid opinions, then gets angry when he loses followers. ‘People don't know what’s good’.

Potential victim of cryptocurrency frauds.

The most exibitionist bitch on the net. Of course, he has an Onlyfans. But if you ask nicely, he just posts the nudes publicly anyway. 

Thirsty thirsty THIRSTY for notes. Checks every two minutes.

He is a famous patron in the furry artist community. He spends just. So. Much. Money. Some furries even debate if he is a real person, or just a myth, or maybe even several people. He is kind of a legend, actually.

[itsallyscorner]

Can you write a little mix member x avengers cast?? Maybe?

Hello love! Thank you for the request, I apologize for taking so long to work on it! I’ve written this as a headcanon, since I haven’t done any of those in a while. I hope you like it❤️

💌.

The Marvel Cast Finds Out You’re In Little Mix

Why is this lowkey a crack fic/headcanon😭💀

Alrighty so, I feel like they probably wouldn’t know you’re part of a band or who Little Mix is.

Since SADLY, the girls aren’t as big in the States as we’d like them to be:(

The people who definitely might know you are ✨The Brits✨ and Scarlett because she has a young daughter who probably listened to Wings or something—kids find everything on the internet these days.

Working with Marvel was your first acting gig; so none of them knew anything about you or if you’ve been in other films, etc.

Except for Tom Holland, who was lowkey fangirling at the fact he gets to work with one of the Little Mix members.

Side note: he’ll be deeply offended when he figures out the others don’t know about Little Mix or that you can sing.

The rest of the cast (RDJ, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Seb, Lizzie, etc.) had a hunch that you were some kind of writer.

You were always humming to yourself and writing in your notebook or typing down notes in your phone when something came to mind.

Though they didn’t pry at your business because—well, it wasn’t their business.

They could find out about your other job through many ways. Maybe you guys are doing promo and some interviewers mention the band and things about a new album, to which most of them were confused about.

“So (Y/n), I know this is your first time acting. How different was it from performing on stage and acting on camera?”

Everyone’s attention would be on you (this is a panel btw) Mackie’s looking at the back of your head in confusion, Robert fully turns in his seat to look at you, Lizzie is also curious, Evans is looking between you and the reporter—everyone is just confused.

“Performing on stage? Did you do Broadway (y/n/n)?” Evans asked. Tom (Holland) scoffed shaking his head, disgusted to be part of this group of uncultured swines.

You chuckled and shook your head, “No, I’m a singer. I’m part of a girlband.”

The whole cast gasped in shock. Mackie let out a loud “WHAT?!”. Robert leaned even closer to you trying to see if you were lying. Others whispered amongst themselves asking each other if they knew.

Tom (Holland) just sat back watching everyone’s reactions along with you. Amused at the amount of questions that were suddenly being thrown your way.

He’d also be quick to add, “NOT just ANY girlband, but the biggest girlband on the planet.”

For clarification, Tom’s a very proud Mixer.

Scarlett finally recognized you, knowing that she’s seen you somewhere before, but could never put her finger onto it. “Wait you’re from Little Mix!”

“THANK YOU! FINALLY SOMEONE WITH SOME TASTE!” Tom yelled, dramatically turning to Scarlett.

After the initial shock, everyone was very curious. They wanted to hear your music, wanted to know the other members, when your next tour was—they were very ecstatic.

When you guys finally reached London for the press tour, there was a lot of hype for Little Mix because you guys were going to finally reunite after months of being apart.

The girls were allowed to visit set, but since you guys were working on your new album, they were stuck in London. You were relocated to Atlanta, filming an Avengers movie and working on the album via FaceTime/Zoom.

You and the girls reunite the same night you land in London! As tired as you were, the five of you hung out in your hotel room.

You were all excited for the days to come. Not only were you doing promo for the movie but you and the girls were going to be performing again on night time talk shows and were having a Live Lounge session with BBC Radio 1.

The panel of the cast discovering you were part of a band went viral. Many of the fans couldn’t believe they didn’t know about your other job.

There were even edits going around social media of the cast looking clueless and or reacting to your ‘secret’.

Then there were ones like “Tom Holland being a Mixer for 10 minutes and 57 seconds straight”.

Your favorite one was where they zoomed in on everyone’s confused expression while that one Nicki Minaj song played in the background.

It was mentioned in almost every interview after it went viral.

“So none of you had a clue that (y/n) was also a singer? Like at all?”

“I didn’t even know homegirl could sing, matter of fact I never imagined her to be in a girlband.” — Anthony Mackie

“I had a hunch that she was a musician or artist, but no one ever listens to me.” — Chris Evans

“(Y/n)’s in a girlband? Since when?” — Paul Rudd

“After we found out, I listened to all six of their albums on the flight here.” — Elizabeth Olsen

“Of course I knew, my music taste is immaculate compared to the others.” — Tom Holland

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.” — Anthony Mackie

“I really enjoy Black Magic, it reminds me of Wanda.” — Paul Bettany

The cast was so eager to hear you sing and watch you perform with the girls.

They finally got to do that when you invited them to the Live Lounge session. They also got to meet the girls.

You were very happy at that moment; seeing the two groups of people you love meeting each other and getting along meant a lot to you. It gave you a lil warm tingle in your heart.

Since there were no fans in the studio, it was only you and the girls, the band, and a bunch of the Avengers.

While the cameras rolled and you guys were performing, they were crowded together behind the scenes. Some of them were sitting on the carpeted floors or standing against the walls.

They were absolutely stunned when they heard you sing. You had a powerful voice that ranged from high to low, something they never expected of you.

When they heard you and the girls sing or harmonize with each other, it was like they were all in heaven.

“They sound like angels.”

“My ears are tingling, but like in a good way.”

“Seriously, how did we not know she can sing like this?”

“Hear me out—this is a perfect reason as to why we should have an Avengers musical.”

“Chris if we hear you bring up a damn musical one more time I swear.”

“Their voices go so well together, how do they even do that?”

Scarlett would secretly film videos to show her daughter. I have a feeling that Evans, Tom, RDJ, Sebby, and Mark would record some parts as well and would post it onto their Insta stories.

When fans found out they were at the Live Lounge they freaked out.

Ever since they found out you were in a band, they’ve been the biggest fans and supporters of the group.

They’re always promoting your albums on their social media accounts without you even asking.

Privately and publicly praising you guys for performances or achievements.

Your two main groups clashed and now everyone was friends. It was definitely the most weirdest collision— Little Mix and the cast of the Avengers. But it worked out perfectly.

Everyone got along with each other and the girls would always visit you on set.

They’re always playing the band’s song in the background on set.

Most of them won’t admit, but they definitely memorized the lyrics to almost every song.

*cough cough* Mackie and Hemsworth

I feel like Samuel L. Jackson would join in on the action too, one way or another. Somehow he got looped in.

ANOTHER THING OMG, they would definitely stand up for you and the girls whenever Piers Morgan or some asshole hates on you guys or pulls a jab on you all.

Best beileve Evans will be calling him out publicly on Twitter.

“Why are you so worried about a bunch of talented women who are doing their job and bringing happiness to others? They’ve done nothing to you, you’re always the one making jabs at them. Leave them alone you fucking British meatball.”

I feel like Robert helped you and the girls find a better management company after learning about the unfair treatment you all faced under Simon’s care.

In conclusion: The Marvel cast would be ecstatic to learn about you being a singer and they’d become your biggest fans. They truly adore you and the girls for your amazing talent :’)

[the-navistar-carol]

Okayokayokayokay. My weird-ass dream that @zee-has-commitment-issues has been wanting me to share with y’all. And since there is legitimately no way I can softball my way up to this: this was a dream where i was August’s love interest.

Yes, you heard that right.

(Would it be self-incrimination if I said that I genuinely liked August as a character [not as a person] for most of the show so far? Perhaps. Zee and our golden retriever friend thought I was insane when I pointed at him and was like “yeah that one.” Anyway.)

This dream took place within an hour, MAX, because this was after I woke up from my 8 AM alarm that I didn’t need, told Siri to set a timer for an hour, and went back to sleep. Honestly, it adds to the weird factor.

I don’t know what kind of a dream I was having before this one, but I know that I was having one. I can remember vague aesthetics of what was going on, like running around this church looking building, but I don’t remember what was in the dream. Either way, dream-me was wandering around this church building — completely alone — and that’s when the dream changes.

Because that’s when August showed up.

At first, I was very confused — in the dream, I remember thinking to myself “hey, why am I the one with the Young Royals setting? isn’t that Zee’s thing?” — but I roll with it, because it’s a dream. He says hi, we have a little chat, and that’s when it hits me.

Oh, this must be Malte. This must be his actor. I must be on the set for Hillerska, there’s no way I’m actually dreaming about August of all characters. How do I know this?

Because he was nice.

And so I carry on with the dream, thinking he’s Malte. He gives me a little tour of the church, and then we go outside. There are tons of people there, just walking around and having a good time. Internally, I’m thinking “wait a minute, if the cameras are rolling, I’m going to be in Young Royals and I’m not supposed to be there. What the fuck, am I about to be in Young Royals???”

But August — Malte — says nothing. So I go with it. Eh, maybe he’s leading me off set. That’s gotta be it. We talk about things, I don’t remember what, but again: he was very nice. Like, legitimately. Never got angry at me, never was anything less than an absolute blast to be around and get to know. It felt like I already knew him. Which is — since at the time I thought I was dreaming about a Swedish actor — VERY WEIRD.

Some time along this portion of the dream — since I still think it’s Malte — I tell him about Screwed. I mentioned Zee, how they’re my best friend, and how they wrote the fourth longest Young Royals fic on Ao3!!! I barely mentioned the plot other than “it’s an Erik Lives AU,” which is honestly probably for the better. This is not the weirdest part of my dream.

Anyway, as we’re walking along this grassy path, the scenery changes. It’s like we’re walking to a city. And that’s when the dream began to change, too. I began noticing people who were noticeably glaring at Malte — no, this is August now — although I didn’t see Wille. I did see Simon, though, or at least I thought I did. ‘Twas a very quick glance. We were walking through neighborhoods, and although I did ask him what was going on, I believe his response was something along the lines of “it’s okay.”

We get to this… airport turnstile?? area? which August just walked right through, but I paused at because they had cheese and crackers. I took a cracker and the boy who had the platter looked at me weird, so I also took a mini wheel of cheese. (I want that cheese. Now.) August had waited for me, so I caught up, and we kept walking. I was getting pretty nervous, so I asked again what was happening, and again he reassured me that it was okay.

And then someone pulls him away for questioning, and for some reason Captain America and Daredevil followed them into the room, and I was left alone. No I do not know why they were there. Total tone change from the rest of the dream. I guess Young Royals exists in the MCU, though. Wack.

So I’m left standing outside the door, where I had just seen my friend (I’m calling him a friend to my dream self at this point) be taken in for questioning, and I’m wondering if it has anything to do with The Video. Nobody says anything to me, though.

At least, until Stella of all people (with like three friends) pulls up in a car and tells me to get in. She was not driving, she had a driver. I would not trust Stella on the road, and apparently neither did my dream. Anyway. I really only remember two things from this bit, which was that Stella had a custom AirPods case that made it look like her AirPods were jewelry in a jewelry box, and that apparently she knew me before. And that I somehow had a reputation in her mind for having really dry skin. I was given lotion.

I was dropped off at this mansion looking house with a fountain and then my timer went off. All in all, weird-ass dream.

ADDENDUM: Zee has suggested that I write a fic where I give August a love interest because of this. I might. But it will have to be after I finish Aftershocks.