#I'm a constant disappointment to myself

[moodandmist]

🏃🏼☀️🐕WIP WEDNESDAY🐕☀️🏃🏼

Hiiii! It's been a long day and I'm exhausted! But I wanted to share something ridiculous with you before I head to bed. I haven't even had a chance to read anyone's shares yet today (or Sunday!! I'm so sorry), but that will be my reward in the morning!

Thank you so much for the tags today and Sunday! Love to you all! Hope you're all feeling good and loved. @fatalfangirl @bookish-bogwitch @whatevertheweather @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @ivelovedhimthroughworse @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @confused-bi-queer @palimpsessed @technetiumai @johnwgrey @dragoneggo @aristocratic-otter @creepyspice @kherub @takitalks

Well, I started a new WIP, as one does. Because I HAD TO. Because something needed to be processed and worked out. 😆

This is *very rough* but it's a quick start. Baz sees Simon running through his neighborhood and forms a healthy lust for this golden, broad-shouldered man, and Simon of course, finds himself lusting after the tall posh bloke out walking his dog that he always passes on his run.

There we go...stick around after the share for a fun little dissection as to why this needed to be written NOW.

Under the cut for some suggestive stuff and length.

*****

BAZ

The first time was in the autumn. 

Lupa was just a puppy and hadn't quite worked out all the ways in which to terrorize me just yet. I watched her loping up and down the embankment to the pond, the cool evening air momentarily warmed by the sun’s last push before its descent. 

And then, there he was. 

Coming toward me, golden curls catching the light. He ran past with a smile and a breathy “Hi”. And, just as quickly, he rounded the curve in the road and was gone. 

I was sure he was an anomaly. Like when some beautiful bit of magic flits in and out of your field of view and you question whether you ever really saw it. Too beautiful. Too alive. A flash of lightning in an otherwise clear sky. A sunspot moving through the leaves. Here, and gone just as quickly.

But several weeks later I saw him again. And then again. Apparently he was made of flesh and blood after all. And what beautiful flesh it was. It's been nearly a year of this torment. Autumns golds and reds lighting him on fire. The cold winter days, making his breath visible to me. Spring petals falling around his shoulders.

And this, all this, would have been bad enough. It was bad enough.

But Summer, that cruel mistress and taunter of the truly thirsty, brought on the heat. I was not prepared to see him running in the height of Summer. Shirtless. Absolutely gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders. The paintbrush splatter of freckles.

I wanted to chase him down. Pin him against a tree and---once and for all---lick the sweat from his neck. From his chest, his taut stomach. Get on my knees and run my tongue through the light line of hair leading to the band of his shorts. 

Pain blooms in my bottom lip and I realize I've had it in a death grip between my teeth as I watch him go by.

Christ, this is getting bad.

******

Now friends, just for fun, let’s do a little IRL-to-fic pipeline exercise. 

Let’s imagine you are a certain person in possession of a *large* dog of a youngish age. And this dog has recently been showing the troubling behavior of barking aggressively at cyclists and runners.

Now imagine, if you will, the perfect Simon-y man, that has been running by your house for the past year. A man with whom  you shared a smile and hello the very first time he passed you. Now please imagine his broad shoulders and floppy golden hair (a la simon) and perfect pecs and tight stomach which you now know he is in possession of since he has taken up the summer routine of running shirtless, sweaty and absolutely *gleaming* and perfect.

Now, let’s just throw some chaos into this imagined scenario and say that you recently saw this gorgeous Simon runner coming up the road, this gorgeous, gleaming man, and thought to yourself, “well, standing by the road holding your dog still is a very good excuse to make eye contact and say hello”. And so, in a moment of total idiocy and evil plotting, you invite your dog outside with you. 

And friends, this very large, very terrible dog decides to go against script and instead of helping you to peacefully and flirtatiously engage this runner, *immediately* eludes your grasp, in favor of barking and aggressively *chasing* this man as he passes your house, which sets *you* running after the dog, running after this perfect, sweaty, gleaming, shirtless man (who looks understandably terrified) while repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry” as he runs away saying “it’s ok, it’s ok.”

And you watch him go in absolute horror, your idiot dog finally at your side.

What would you do??

Friends, you’d put it in a fic and fix that shit. 

[shikai-the-storyteller]

TBH the best case scenarios in my mind for Fit's lore ending on Thursday are either:

Madagio has mercy. They know what it's like to lose everyone they love, and seeing what's happening on Quesadilla Island is just a reminder of everything they loved and lost. Madagio releases Fit, and he reunites with Pac e Mike and Richarlyson, and they're all able to leave Quesadilla Island.

Or:

Madagio and Fit destroy the Federation together. Fit goes full 2B2T mode and there's nothing left of the Federation once they're finished. Madagio and Fit finally have their revenge. (And then maybe Fit can reunite with Pac + all his loved ones and they escape the Island, or reclaim the island for their own since the Federation no longer has any power over them).

Bonus: A very unlikely but "Wouldn't it be fun?" scenario would be Pac and Mike flying down on a fully-grown dragon Richas and rescuing Fit from Vacuus Island and they fly away and live happily ever after.

[aftermathing]

How to find will to live and purpose in life when chronic pain is destroying your body and mind.

[ratgirlcopia]

[bones creaking with every step i take] i think a lot of copia's self-image issues would start resolving themselves pretty quick with a transition arc. but that's just me.

[wingsandpetals]

sometimes i forget i really do like superheroes

[anadiasmount]

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

[astrophileous]

if reader is bug, their son is little bug and their daughter is little bug, what is derek's bug related nickname? or is he disappointed about not having one?

OKAY I personally think Derek's usually fine over not having a bug-related nickname (after all, he's the one who came up with them for his lil family 🥺) but I just imagined a scenario that wouldn't be ooc for him to feel jealous of not having a similar nickname and I hope this is to your liking <3

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

It was bound to happen.

With how often Derek dropped the sweet nickname for you every single day, you knew that it was only a matter of time before it was bound to happen.

But that didn't mean you weren't absolutely floored when it happened for the first time.

"Bah."

Derek's eyes caught yours from across the room. "Did she just--"

"Bah. Bah."

In front of you, your daughter stood on wobbly legs. Your face was the exact twin of Derek's stunned expression as you saw your daughter pointing her fingers towards you and said--for the nth time that afternoon--a word that made your brain reduce into a mush.

"Bah."

"Is she--" your voice caught around a disbelieving chuckle, "--is she saying Bug?"

As if confirming your suspicion, your daughter took hold of your hand before pressing it to her face. "Bah."

Derek was laughing as he crossed the room. He picked up his daughter and lifted her in the air, earning a series of delighted giggles from the 1-year-old.

"My smart baby. Who's a smart baby? Yes, you are!" Derek cooed.

"We're gonna have to explain to people why our daughter's first word is Bug." You laughed as you watched your husband smother your daughter in kisses.

"Well, we can just tell everyone that we have the smartest 1-year-old in the world. Isn't that right, Baby Bug?"

"Bah."

For the next few weeks, your daughter's adorable murmurs of bah became the new constant in your home. She started learning to use the word as a means to attract your attention. But it wasn't the only thing that your daughter had managed to learn.

"Lil bah."

"That's right, baby!" Your son clapped his hands ecstatically, his sister mirroring him with an exhilarated grin. "I'm Little Bug. Good job!"

You followed the interaction between the two from the couch, a permanent smile on your lips. Derek was lying with his head on your lap when you heard him sigh.

"You okay, Mister?"

"I'm the only one she's still refusing to call."

The pout Derek had on his face nearly made you chuckle, and you probably would have done it if you didn't know just how devastating the whole thing was for him.

"You should take it as a compliment," you said instead, trying to put a balm on his wounded heart. "She only said Bug as her first word because she listens to you so much. She just wants to mirror everything you do, hun."

Derek exhaled another long breath. "Should I find myself a bug-related nickname just so she would call me?"

You snorted. "Like what? Mr. Bugkeeper?"

Derek pinched your thigh. "Very funny. I'm hurt and all you do is make fun."

That last statement of his actually made you laugh. Derek proceeded to grumble something under his breath, but you were too busy trying to keep your bellowing laughter under control to pay attention to it.

From across the room, your daughter suddenly stood on her chubby little feet before staggering over to where you and Derek were lounging on the couch while your son continued to play with his toys.

"Bah," your daughter said once she had reached you.

"Hi, baby."

"Bah." She proceeded to turn towards Derek after that, tracing the features on her father's face with exploratory fingers and a cute curiosity in her eyes. "Bah?"

"That's not Bug, baby," you told her. "That's Dada. Can you say Dada?"

She stared blankly at your face in response.

"Say Dada," Derek encouraged. "Come on, Baby Bug. Say I love you, Dada!"

Your daughter blinked and tilted her head to the side.

Derek sighed in disappointment. "This is hopeless. She's never gonna--"

"Da."

You and Derek both froze in shock.

"Da." Your daughter grabbed a hold of Derek's cheeks. "Da. Wuv yu."

You didn't think you ever saw Derek sit up so fast in his life.

"Baby Bug." Your husband's voice was laden with bewilderment. "Can you say that again, sweetheart? Say that again for Dada?"

"Da. Wuv yu."

The laughter that rumbled from Derek's chest spoke of the greatest joy you had ever seen radiating from a person. He picked your daughter up in his embrace, spinning her around until the baby shrieked in glee.

"I told you it would happen, Mr. Bugkeeper," you said around your own jubilant laughter.

If it were any other day, Derek would have given you a side eye over the ludicrous nickname. But at that moment, Derek couldn't find it in his bones to care.

After all, his daughter had just told him that she loved him for the first time.

[captain-mj]

Wrote this at a laundromat so I hope you guys like it

Ghost had just moved to Scotland to get away from everything. His family's murders stayed a constant thought in his mind, but more than that, he didn't want anyone still loyal to Roba to find him. After wiping them off the map, he decided to do something he never thought possible.

Chose himself.

So he made his way to Scotland where no one would know Simon Riley and he bought a house and lived next to a small town so he could go over and get whatever supplies he needed before coming to hide again.

That's where he met him.

A local man who apparently was involved in the church and was in general a great person.. Most people referred to him as Soap, which Ghost thought was a very strange name, but he had also heard MacTavish which seemed more realistic.

The man saw Ghost, probably decided he was emotionally vulnerable, and decided to skulk around him. He asked, begged, pleading for Ghost to join his congregation.

Ghost turned him down each time, though he did love to see a pretty man beg. Once, he lifted lifted his mask, let him see the Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. He hoped that Soap would assume gang member or miscreant and leave him alone, but it seemed to spur him on.

Soap MacTavish, savior of big buff men. Patron saint of being annoying.

Ghost started... watching him. The way he moved. His smile, just a little too wide with teeth a little too sharp.

He was... handsome. Seemingly kind. But Ghost was like a stray. He didn't trust affection and he wanted to keep it that way. No matter how honeyed Soap made his words or how kind the scraps he offered. Something about the man was unsettling.

Soap simply knocked on his door one day at dusk. Ghost only answered when he had his mask on. He had some kind of food in containers. "Hey! Several people I know made me these and gifted them to me, but I don't think I'll be able to eat all they gave me. Thought you might appreciate them. I know I'd be homesick, in such a new area."

Ghost stared at him, hands itching. "How did you know where I lived?"

"i knew the people who lived here before. Laid them to rest myself. Saw their last rites and all that. No other empty house around for miles."

"Other people know...?"

"Doubt it. Most don't think of you too much." Soap sniffed, looking around. "I assumed that's what you'd prefer."

"It is. Thanks."

Soap smiled. "I'll keep it between us." He kept standing there. Just waiting.

"I'm not going to invite you inside."

Immediately, those soft lips turned into a pouty frown. "At least take the desserts. I really do have no use for them."

Ghost didn't want to disappoint him for some reason, so he awkwardly took the food. "Okay. Address between us right?"

"Of course. With God as my witness." Soap grinned and left.

If Ghost would've thought about it, he'd made him promise to never come back as well. But he did not do that.

He went into his kitchen and opened the container.

Cranachan. Ghost had heard of it. The King of Scottish Desserts.

He grabbed a spoon and brought a bite to his mouth slowly. There was a thick cream with oats and raspberries. When he put a bite in his mouth, he could taste the honey and whiskey.

It was so good.

Ghost dug in on his couch. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be something he'd eat off for a few days, but he devoured all of it in one sitting. There was more of the raspberries sauce and Ghost found himself licking it from his fingers. A warmth settled in his chest from it.

Maybe Soap wasn't terrible.

Ghost got ready to start his routine of checking all of the windows and doors, but his couch suddenly felt so comfy. He felt his eyes start to close, the warmth spreading more.

For the first time since being a kid, Ghost slept all the way through the night with no nightmares.

Ghost cleaned up from the night before, feeling comfy. He noticed one of his windows was unlocked and chided himself for being so forgetful. After two sweeps of the house, he was sure no one was in his house and nothing was missing.

The dishes sat on the counter, suddenly suspicious. The idea of there being something in it was preposterous.

Ghost cleaned the dishes. "He's a fucking poster boy for good. You're being paranoid."

As time went on, he noticed things. Always on his porch or right outside. Tapping or animal noises or sometimes visions of someone right outside. The wonderful night of sleep was the last time he slept for a while.

Soap showed up again. A cross necklace Ghost couldn't remember seeing was around his neck. He looked apologetic as he had more of the delicious treat. "Sorry. It's raspberry season so everyone is making it and... well... I don't really have much of a sweet tooth."

Ghost looked at him coldly. "And you're bringing it to me? No orphans to give it to? Children to target?"

It was the first time Soap had looked upset at him. Ghost was a military man. He dealt with that constantly back in his troop. But for some reason, Soap's unhappiness got under his skin.

"No, Ghost. I just... thought you might be feeling lonely. Ya probably think I'm naive. Small town guy, always trying to talk to you..." He looked embarrassed. "Never met someone from Manchester. And before you ask, I figured it out by your accent."

Ghost looked at him for a few minutes before looking away to pretend he wasn't affected by him. "I don't."

"Gotcha... I can just... take the food."

"No. I'll still take that." Ghost quickly grabbed the home made food, noticing Soap's flash of a smile. He bit his lip as he cradled the food. "Look, I'm not a good guy. Definitely not someone you need around you."

Soap looked at him sadly. "Even outside of my faith, I still think all people deserve someone. I just... want to try to make you feel less lonely."

Ghost sighed. "Alright. Come in."

Soap got so excited. He carefully walked inside and glanced around, moving his weight back and forth between each foot.

Ghost sat on the chair he had. "Haven't exactly bought much furniture. But you're allowed to get comfy."

Soap grabbed the couch and smiled brightly. There was something about him. He looked at him and his eyes... had a shimmer to it.

Ghost paused, holding the bowl.

"Are you going to put it away? Or eat it right now?" Soap asked conversationally. He batted his eyelashes.

Ghost gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "Gonna put it away for now."

"I see. Have you been sleeping well? This place seems... so isolated. I don't think I could ever quite get a good sleep."

Ghost couldn't think of a good answer besides the truth. "Sleep has never came easy to me."

Soap frowned, batting his eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I hope it gets easier for you." He seemed so genuine. So sweet.

Ghost shrugged. "Thank you..."

They started to slip into rather easy banter, but he found his eyes getting heavier.

Soap got up and picked his way over. For a moment, Ghost was afraid. He almost lashed out, afraid. But he didn't touch him. He leaned in, eyes glowing against the backdrop of everything around them. "Sleep well, Ghost."

Ghost fell asleep on his chair. Soap locked the door on the way out but he didn't lock the windows.

Ghost found Tommy's photo album and went through them. He looked at the various photos of him and his family and he found himself missing them again. They looked so cute. So perfect. He left them on his coffee table, messy and covering every inch.

Joseph looked up at him, bright smiling face.

Simon was holding him. Blond curls that he spent too much time keeping bleached. No scarring.

He felt like he was going crazy as things... moved around his house. Things moved right out of the corner of his eyes. So he started preparing.

Guns were tucked into every hiding place he could. Knives even more so. He started to work out again for the first time in a few weeks. Luckily he hadn't lost too much of his physique.

Ghost eventually found himself eating the cranachan. He slept well. It was unsettling.

Right before dawn, Soap arrived at his house. The clouds were churning together but there was still some sunlight streaming through. "I brought coffee. Are you a coffee person?"

Ghost wasn't usually, but rather than deal with Soap's sad look again, he took the drink. He sipped it and found himself pleasantly surprised at how good it was.

Soap smiled. "Have any plans?"

"Gonna make breakfast... wanna join?" Why did he say that??

Soap smiled and quickly walked in. "I'd love to."

Ghost started to cook. He had been trying to learn more cooking lately so hopefully it wasn't too bad.

Soap looked thankful when he set it down and started to eat. They did so in basically silence. The cross necklace kept catching the light so he kept staring at it. When he lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, they made direct eye contact.

Soap's eyes. They were so dark. Like a shark.

Ghost felt for the gun under his side table. He tried to keep up conversation.

"Don't grab that gun, Simon."

Ghost paused what he was doing, watching the cross necklace sway where it sat. "What?"

Soap sighed. "Don't be like that. The gun your hand is on. Don't grab it." His nails clicked against the table. Too long. Too alarming. "Be a good boy, Simon."

Ghost stared at him, debating what could be done here.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you?"

"Not a danger to you." Soap answers a little pedantically. "I promise." His canines. They were long and curved.

Ghost glanced at the coffee. "You were drugging me."

Soap hummed. "No. More of a... side effect of my presence. You feeling anything right now?"

Ghost could feel something tugging at the edge of his consciousness but nothing too severe. "What do you want?"

Soap swallowed. "I'm hungry. Starving."

"You saw me up here. Being vulnerable. And decided you could fuc-"

"No. Not quite. I... I know you could keep a secret."

Ghost blinked, realizing the situation. "You're... asking."

Soap looked pained. "I am. A... deal. I keep everyone away. Tell them whatever I need so they leave you alone and I get to..." His eyes trailed to Ghost's throat.

"How bad is the feeding?"

"Not bad! I take about as much blood as a blood donation. Easy peasy. I'll even bring you food for recovery just please..."

Ghost undid the top button of his shirt and Soap looked ready to wiggle out of his seat. The poor man was salivating.

Why was he doing this?

it was stupid.

Idiotic.

Self-sacrificing.

The mask hit the table.

"Go for it."

Soap leapt over the table and sat in his lap. Teeth sank into his throat as he held him, holding him tight. They pressed together and Ghost could feel the unsettling chill that came from Soap.

He grabbed the table, almost white knuckling it.

Pain radiated from where he was being stabbed into and he felt himself go lightheaded. Soap's ass was pressed firmly to his lap though and it felt...

pleasurable.

Slowly he sank into it, feeling Soap take his fill.

His pretty boy thanked him, lips bright red from blood. "Thank you. Thank you. You're perfect. My angel from heaven."

Their lips touched and Ghost groaned softly.

Soap panted in his ear. "I'll be good. Promise. Take care of you." His claws sank into Ghost who was wondering how bad the situation he landed himself was.

[paper-mario-wiki]

hi, i'm not the person who asked you about the life update, but could you elaborate on how being a creator means to live in a world of ideas instead of the real world? i'm just really curious about your reasons for quitting, specially because i want to create things in the future (not necessarily streaming, but anyways), hope you have a good day!

i'll be talking mostly about streaming for the sake of this answer, but this is similarly applicable across a wide range of platforms:

the job of the streamer is, effectively, to be the life of the party every single day. your goal is to be the person that has something interesting to talk about, and is quick with a joke, and has nuanced understandings of certain things, without actually obtaining any sort of "expertise" in anything lest you alienate viewers. short of having a stated goal for a stream, the only goal of the streamer is to let people relax with a voice they enjoy, saying things they like hearing. you can become very strong in different aspects of streaming, like in the production, or as someone who focuses more on a skill they've honed like art or speedrunning, but the demographic of streamers which pulls, by far, the most significant viewership, is personality based streamers.

this becomes more complicated when, for example, you are very interactive with chat, or you stream with multiple people at once. now, to maintain this charismatic sway you have (the one that got you the job in the first place), you must be able to adapt to and bounce off of other people, as you are now no longer performing alone. naturally, there's a need to not only manage your own flow of consciousness, but also to be at least partially in sync with someone else's.

beyond these complications, you must also consider drawing in new viewership. when i was a streamer, i was quite successful, relatively speaking. pulling 300 viewers consistently is something a very slim amount of streamers can actually do, and even then i was still making under 50k a year, which is not bad, but also not good. in paying for my apartment, my insurance, my travel fare, and all the other stuff that living independently draws money out of you with, i was more often in the red than i was in the green. hence, the need to draw in new viewers, which cannot be done without something eye-catching.

think about this: there are, at any given time, TENS OF THOUSANDS of streamers live in your native language on twitch, and they are all FREE TO WATCH. the attention market is sparse because the streamer market is oversaturated. and considering all of THEM want new viewers too, everyone is constantly refining and improving their craft, which requires everyone to move creatively in tandem with each other lest they get left behind.

if you are a streamer making ass-dollars and ass-cents, it becomes easy to begin resenting people like jerma, solely because everything he touches seems to turn to gold. i personally found it easy to feel very disappointed in myself when peoples projects that seemed so simple would take off. it was a constant "why didn't i think of that!" situation, at least for me. and when you don't have the energy to keep that up, or the social stamina necessary to figure that all out while also being upbeat and happy in front of people near daily, it can become very draining.

what i mean specifically when i say the "world of ideas", is like. there would be times where i could schedule out my failures weeks in advance. i'd be so in my own head about the process, i could see the exact path i could see myself taking that would lead me directly to ruin. how playing games i actually enjoyed would steadily drop viewership, or how focusing on my studies would make people forget about me. and of course this is augmented by my anxiety, i know this is absolutely not the case for every streamer, but that overwhelming feeling of needing to find a new game to play, or a new gimmick to use, or a new ploy to get money that doesn't make you feel guilty even though your source of income is mostly queer and mostly poor young adults and your rent is coming up and you're $200 short but you also just had a fundraiser last month about a DIFFERENT emergency but you cant make it a bummer or else people wont want to tune in so you have to make it something fun like "you laugh you lose!" or "$1 art request streams!" while feeling nothing but anxiety while youre trying to sound like youre enjoying yourself even when youre asking 250 people to donate every 30 minutes or so and nobody seems to want to and chat is moving slowly and. and and.

well, it starts to eat away at you.

[gejo333]

A Misunderstanding- Epilogue

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider Reader

Pt. 1

Art credit: I couldn’t find the artist. Please lmk if you know who it is.

Note: Not the full photo.

Summary: Little moments during your 9 months of pregnancy waiting for your little bundle of joy. And this time, with Miguel.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. I’m sorry I got it you you guys so late. But I hope it’s a sweet ending to this story.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed

Enjoy💕

Wc: 6.1k

____________________________________________

Month 3

The small cracks and imperfections on the ceiling have become memorized as you lay on your bed feeling miserable for the hundredth time this month. Ever since you found out you were pregnant about a month ago, you have had a serious case of morning sickness.

You've been critically bored since your OB/GYN recommended bed rest during your morning sickness. And knowing Miguel, he followed the doctor's recommendation exactly, making you stay in bed or couch most of the day.

"Here, mi amor." Miguel handed you a plate of chicken nuggets and green beans. Ever since you cooked Mateo chicken nuggets weeks ago and tried one, it's the only thing you haven't thrown up. Your nose scrunches up at the site of the green beans. One thing you hated, or the baby hated, was vegetables during your morning sickness.

"You need to eat something healthy. Just please eat some of them." Miguel pleaded with you as he sat down next to you on the bed and continued working. He's been staying home most of the time to handle household duties and Mateo.

"Well, it's your baby that's making me not like them. But thank you for the food." You pout as you eat your food. Miguel chuckled at your comment as he looked at a mission report.

After you forced yourself to eat the green beans, which from Miguel's perspective was a comical sight as you made a face every time you took a bite. But half an hour later, as you leaned against Miguel for comfort as he wrapped an arm around your waist, you felt a sudden surge of nausea. But instead of rushing to the bathroom, you sat there, not needing to vomit, as your eyes grew wide in shock.

"Oh my god, I think my morning sickness is improving." You cheer as you look at Miguel with a big smile. He turns to you with the same smile as he kisses your forehead. "I'm glad to hear that, cariño."

"Now I don't have to be on constant bed rest! Finally! Maybe I can even go back to work? Not for missions, of course, cause I know that would practically give you a heart attack if I did. But at least doing some desk work?" You are pleased with Miguel. One good thing about dating the leader of Spider Society was that you didn't have to worry about missing work. But the downside, too, is that he's the leader.

"Alright, fine. Of course, I miss you at HQ, but you know why I stress about you being pregnant in such a dangerous environment." Miguel looked at you as his eyebrows furrowed and a pout on his face. He was worried for you and the baby. And you understood where he was coming from.

You cup the side of his face as you gently brush your thumb across his cheek to ease his worries.

"I know I'll be safe since you will be there to protect me. And you built Spider Society from the ground up. You know it's safe."

"But what if an anomaly broke out and hurt you both. I'll never forgive myself." Miguel continued to worry.

"Miggy, I'll be fine. I'm Spiderwoman too. Plus, if Jess can be pregnant and still do her full job, I can do mine too." Your words finally reassured him as he smiled down at you and kissed your lips lovingly. You get up from the bed to Miguel's disappointment as he wants to continue holding you in his arms. But his disappointment was quickly replaced with joy as he saw your small baby bump as you walked into the bathroom to get ready.

Today was the day that you and Miguel would reveal that you were pregnant to your friends at Spider Society and later in the day with your family.

Miguel, in his own way, was excited about the reveal to your family. But he was slightly annoyed to tell the teenage spiders and the others. Like, tell Jess. But making a thing out of it. It was 100% your idea. But since he loves you and you were his world, he didn't mind the cheesy pregnancy reveal.

The two of you went through the portal after you both were ready as you walked to Miguel's office. As you entered, you saw Jessica watching the monitors with the rest of the gang, Peter B. MayDay, Hobie, Pavitr, Ben, and Gwen.

"Y/n! We missed you! Where have you been?" Said Pavitr as he jumped down from the platform. He was helping to look at the monitors before he came to you for a hug. You happily returned the hug, ensuring he didn't feel the baby bump.

"I've been busy with some things in my universe. So I wasn't able to come to HQ this past month." You say.

"Will you be coming back?" Asked Gwen as she also came up to give you a hug. Ever since you've been back to hq since being back with Miguel, you have become a big sister/mother figure to the teenage spiders.

"I am." A big smile appeared on your face; you couldn't fight the urge to hide the surprise. Miguel saw the look on your face and chuckled, a small smile appearing as he wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you to his side.

"Wow, something must be up if a boss man is smiling like that." Hobie chuckled, noticing the change of demeanor between the two of you. You look up at Miguel as you smile up at him. He smiled at you and gestured towards the group of curious spiders with a slight move of his head.

"Hey Peter, I'm so sorry we missed Mayday's 1st birthday, two weeks ago. Here's a gift for her." You say as you hold out a spider gift bag. Peter walked over with the adorable Mayday in his arms, who was babbling to herself.

"Aw, that was sweet of you. Thank you for the gift. Look, Mayday Auntie Y/n and Uncle Miguel got you a gift." Peter said the last sentence in his baby voice as he opened the bag for her. He grabbed an adorable spider kitty stuffed animal, which made Mayday squeal in excitement. Peter handed her the stuffed animal, and she hugged it.

"I'm glad she loves it. There is actually one more gift in there for her. It's a surprise." You smile as Peter searches through the bag to find the other gift. He drops the bag as he takes out a shirt for Mayday. He looks up at you and Miguel with a shocked and happy look.

"Oh my god! You guys!" Said Peter as he hugged the both of you.

"What's going on?" Asked Ben Reilly, who was speaking everyone else's mind. Peter turns around from hugging you and Miguel as he shows the shirt to the rest of the spider gang.

Printed in red and blue text with two iconic spider logos below the text.

Spider-Baby Duo!

"Omg! No way!" Gwen cheered as she jumped for joy and hugged you again. "Congratulations!"

"Another spider, baby! I can't wait to meet the little bundle!" Pavitr jumped for joy. Jess jumped down from the platform with a big smile on her face.

"Congrats, you two." Said Jess as she hugged you two.

"Thanks, everyone. We just wanted to tell you the reason for my recent absence. But I'm happy to return to work after my painful month of morning sickness." You smile from all the excitement as you glance up to see Miguel with a smile on his face enjoying it too.

You so badly wanted to tease him for showing he enjoyed telling your friends at Spider HQ. But you decided to tease him when you returned home to save him from the embarrassment of the other spiders teasing him. Though you would miss his ears and cheeks going red.

After talking and celebrating with everyone for a bit longer, you both had to return home to pick up Mateo. You wait with Miguel outside the school as you see the kindergarten class run out of the building. A familiar little curly-haired brunette with the most adorable face as he came running to you.

"Mama, you cane to pick me up!" Mateo hugged you as he jumped for joy to see you.

"Of course, sweetie. Mama feels well enough to drop you off and pick you up from school with Papa." You say as you hug your baby boy.

"Can you hold me, mama?" Mateo asked as he tried to jump into your arms. Miguel swooped in as he grabbed Mateo and lifted him into his arms.

"Wow there, papito. Remember, no roughhousing around Mama. She's caring your brother or sister in there. But I can carry you."

"Okay." Mateo pouted as he looked down at the ground, which hurt your heart. You look at Miguel as he looks back at you with a sigh knowing what you were asking of him.

"Come here, Mateo." You open your arms as Miguel hands him to you. It had been a while since you carried him, so you noticed the weight change.

"Yay!" Mateo smiled as he wrapped his arms around your neck and rested his head on your shoulder.

After getting to your new apartment, a penthouse in the same area as your old one, Miguel paid no expense to a lavish, not two, but six-bedroom and four-bath apartment. When Miguel originally told you about the listing, you thought it was too big for a family of four. But he said he wanted to buy a bigger place when you had more children. You lightly glared at him as you were already suffering from the current pregnancy. Of course, you didn't admit to him that you would want to have one or two more children. Two keep it an even number, of course.

When you found out you were pregnant, you both began to look at apartments. Of course, you had completely forgotten that Miguel's part-time job at Alchamex gave him very deep pockets. You insisted on paying as much as possible. Still, Miguel insisted on paying it himself, saying he wanted to give this to you and his children as a gift.

When you both finally agreed on a place, you moved in almost immediately, so you didn't have to worry about moving when the baby was born.

Two hours after you got home, you and Miguel made sure the house was ready for your family to come over, mainly your sister, her husband, kids, and your parents.

It was just your family as you and Miguel went to his universe to tell his brother Gabriel and mother Conchata the news. You had met them many times before, six years ago when you were dating Miguel. After Miguel moved in three months ago, you brought Mateo to visit his paternal grandmother and uncle, who adored him. Now you go at least twice a month to visit. Of course, the last time you went a week ago, you had revealed to them your pregnancy which they were both very happy about.

As you got your last earring on, you heard the doorbell ring. As you walked to the door, Mateo rushed by you. "Let me get it!" You chuckled as you saw him rush towards the door.

"Be careful, sweetie. Don't run." You smile as he opens the door revealing your sister, her family, and your parents.

"Hi!" Mateo half-yelled as he jumped up and down as his aunt and cousins walked in. Your niece and nephew run off with Mateo to his room to play, not before giving you a hug.

"Heyy! I've barely seen you this month! I've missed my little sister! Where's Miguel?" Nora walked in and gave you a hug.

"He's in the kitchen. He'll be-speak of the devil." You chuckle as he walks into the main family room as he walks to your side. "Hey, Nora, Luke." Miguel smiled.

"Do you guys want a drink? We have red, white, or something stronger." You offered.

"What are you having?" Asked Nora, which made you almost ruin the surprise, but you remembered the white grape soda juice that you bought from a winery a while back for Mateo. But you decided to use it tonight. Just to trick your sister and parents for a bit.

"Just a white wine. Hey, mom, dad. I've missed you." You hugged your parents. "Hi, sweetheart. It's good to see you." Said your father as he hugged you.

After settling down and catching up with everyone, you made sure the kids were in the living room with everyone else. Miguel grabbed two thin boxes and handed one to your mom and your sister.

"What is this?" Nora looked at the wrapped box with a confused smile on her face. You smiled wide. As you watch, your sister and mother open the tops of the boxes. Within a few seconds, you heard your mother gasp, and your sister scream in surprise.

"Omg! I'm going to be an aunt again! Congrats, you two!" Nora got up from her seat and hugged you.

"Congrats, sweetie." Your mother said as both she and your father also got up to congratulate you and Miguel. The kids all jumped excitedly to have another kid coming to the family to hang out and play with.

Month 4

You were in your fourth month of pregnancy, and despite it only being your fourth month, you felt like you were in your sixth for how big you felt. God, why did you have to have a baby daddy who could be characterized as a giant.

As you tried to put on one of your bras, you couldn't get the clasp to close. When you finally did get it clasped, your breasts were threatening to pop out, which, within seconds, they did. You groaned in frustration as you threw the bra on the ground.

Your damn breasts have gotten too big because of your pregnancy. You didn't think you would need to go to a maternity clothing store since when you were pregnant with Mateo, you didn't need to get maternity clothing. But guess every pregnancy is different.

You walked to Miguel's closet and grabbed one of his sweatshirts and a pair of your sweatpants. You glared at yourself in the mirror, not liking your lazy outfit choice.

Arms wrapped around your waist as large hands rested on your swollen belly. Your pout turned into a smile as you looked at your boyfriend through the mirror.

"What's wrong, Hermosa?" Miguel left kisses up

your neck to your cheek to help cheer you up.

"I don't fit into my clothes anymore because of this baby. My belly has gotten larger, my breasts too." You pout. You missed your curvy figure.

"I think you look beautiful, amor. And your breasts look like they were sculpted by god himself."

You turn to face him, and he keeps his arms around you and kisses you lovingly.

"How about I take you to buy some new outfits tomorrow?" You smiled at Miguel's kind gesture as you reached on your toes to kiss him. "That would be amazing. Thank you for offering."

Miguel fell on his knees, putting his hands on your belly as he smiled. You gently combed your fingers through his dark brown hair as you gazed at him lovingly and watched him whisper sweet things to your unborn child.

A tang of guilt etched into your heart as you didn't give Miguel the experience to do this when you were pregnant with Mateo. But you were happy to be able to give him the experience with both of your second children.

A gasp escaped your lips as you pressed your hand over Miguel's, as he looked up at you with concern. You look down at Miguel with a huge smile.

"It was the baby. I felt them move."

Month 5

It was a sunny day at the beach. You relaxed in your beach chair with a cup of lemonade in your hand as you enjoyed the sun's heat.

You take out your phone and choose a song from your playlist, resting it on your stomach for the baby to hear. The ocean view was gorgeous, but the site that caught your eye was Miguel with Mateo, who helped his son find shells and sea glass. It was a mission for you and the baby.

Mateo wanted to make something out of the shells and sea glass he would find on the beach. It made your heart glow as you saw Miguel bond with his son, holding the shells, rocks, and sea glass in his hands as he followed Mateo's lead.

After a few more minutes of watching them, you noticed them returning.

"Mamma, I collected so many pretty shells! Papa will show you! He was holding them for me while I collected them." Mateo ran over to you a few strides behind him, Miguel, who sat down in the chair next to you as he grabbed a container Mateo brought and put the shells and other pretty beach objects in there. He then passed it to Mateo to show you his favorite shells.

"Those look really pretty. I can't wait to see what you create with them!" You tell Mateo as you listen to story to each shell he shows you. You smile when you feel Miguel place a kiss on your cheek.

"How are you two doing?" He asked as he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

"We're both doing good." You smile as you place the hand you held on your round belly. Suddenly both your eyes widened as you looked at each other with large smiles.

"Did they just?" Miguel smiled wide as he rested the palm of his hand on your belly.

"I know! They kicked! They only seem to do that when they can hear your voice. Guess we know who will be their favorite parent." You let out a chuckle as you watch Miguel move his hand on different places of your belly, where you would then find a light flutter in the area, which meant the baby was kicking.

"Come here, Mateo. Do you want to feel your younger sibling kick?" You ask your son as he gets up from his spot on the beach towel in excitement as he comes to you. You gently take his hand and place it on your stomach. As soon as you did, Mateo giggled as he felt the baby kick.

You were happy that your family was already getting love from your unborn baby. Still, you internally pouted as you felt left out. As if your youngest child read your mind, you felt them kick where your hand was placed as you whispered back to your round belly, "I love you too."

Month 6

Miguel was running errands all over the place for the gender reveal party. Though he thought it was a bit cheesy, you loved the idea of having one, so he ensured the party would be perfect.

He set the cake down on the dining room table. Half of it was blue, and the other half pink. Once the cake was cut, you would see if the cake was pink or blue.

You walked in with Mateo after picking him up from school. Miguel smiled when he saw you as he wrapped an arm around you and kissed your lips lovingly.

"Sorry I couldn't be there to pick up Mateo with you," Miguel said as he scanned his surroundings. The main living room was filled with pink and blue decorations. You gently touched his cheek and caressed his face, which he loved.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. You had errands to run for the party, which looks amazing. Thank you, Miggy." You lean up and kiss him again, which Miguel happily accepts.

"When do we find out?" Asked Mateo as he played with one of the balloons.

"When everyone arrives and is settled, we'll announce it." Says Miguel as you both chuckle at your son's excited attitude as he jumps around.

Another hour passed as you made sure all the snacks and drinks were out on the dining table when you heard the doorbell ring. Miguel kissed your cheek as he walked to the door and opened it revealing your spider friends in casual clothing holding baby gifts.

"Y/n! Oh my god, look at you. You're glowing!" Jess smiled as she hugged you. "Here you go. Something for the baby." She handed you a bag.

"Aww, thank you. Miguel and I can't wait to open it. If you are hungry or want a drink, there’s some snacks and champagne on the dining table. How's your baby boy?"

"He's doing good. Keeps me and hubby up late at night. But I still love him to bits despite the sleep deprivation." Jess chuckled as you walked over to the dining table to set down the gift with the others; you picked up a stork-shaped cookie. You picked up two cause your hunger this month has increased tenfold.

"These are cute." Said Gwen as she came up to you both and picked up one of the pinkish-blue cupcakes. "Thanks for inviting me, Pavitr, and Hobie. We can't wait to meet the baby! Oh here! This is a gift from all three of us. We hope you like it." She hands you the bag as you hug her in thanks before putting it on a table.

"I'm sure we'll love it." You smile lovingly at her. Those three teenage spiders were so adorable.

You let Gwen go back to mingle with Hobie, Pavitr, and Jess with your sister, who had arrived with your parents and her family not too long ago.

You were about to take a bite of one of the cookies when Miguel wrapped his arm around you from behind and pulled you against him as he grabbed your cookie and took a large bite out of it. Your jaw opened in shock before a pout was placed on your lips. "Hey, that was mine." You see him smirk as you take the rest of the cookie and take a bite out of it. Miguel chuckled as he kissed your cheek.

"I know. I just wanted to see that cute pout on your face, amor." You purse your lips into a smile as you playfully roll your eyes.

"Do you want to do the reveal?" Miguel smiled down at you. Your eyes brighten as you smile, starting to feel the excitement bubble up inside you; you nod.

"Hey, everyone! It's time!" You say in excitement as you try to stay calm but fail horribly. Miguel looks at your overjoyed attitude and smiles lovingly at you. You really were the light of his life.

Miguel grabs the plate and knife as you hold the knife with him. You both turn around and cut into the cake to make a slice. As soon as you lift it up, you smile brightly at Miguel as he looks down at you with the same happy expression. You both turned around and showed off the slice of cake to everyone.

It was pink.

Month 7

You took a deep breath as you sat down in a chair and placed a hand on your large belly. You tried to distract the feeling of your stomach tightening with the sounds of kids' laughter.

You opened your eyes to see your now six year old son running around with his friends at the arcade.

"Hey, are you okay?" Georgia touched your shoulder as she looked at you in concern.

"I-I'm fine. Just feeling some cramps." You give her a reassuring smile before you feel another stomach cramp. You grab your water bottle as you take a sip of water.

"Are you sure, y/n? Aren't you having contractions? I'm going to get Miguel." Georgia said as she was about to walk away before you grabbed her arm.

"It's Braxton hicks. I-I'm fine. I've had them before. If you tell M-Miguel, he'll take me to the hospital. It's Mateo's birthday. I don't want his special day ruined because the baby got in the way." Lauren approached you as you tried to convince Georgia not to get Miguel.

"The kids were asking when to cut the- y/n? Are you okay?" Lauren gazed at you with concern.

"Y-yep. It's Braxton hicks. No need to worry. They'll p-pass." You reassure Lauren as you try to stand up. It takes you a second, but you manage to stand up. "Let's cut the cake."

"Y/n, are you sure it's Braxton hicks? When I was pregnant with Simon, I went into early labor. But I thought it was only Braxton hicks. Maybe you should go to the hospital to be safe." Lauren gently guides you to Miguel despite your protests, but Lauren was more stubborn than her wife, Georgia.

She walks you over to Miguel, who is talking to a few other parents; his gaze turns to you when he notices you coming towards him. Miguel's smile was quickly replaced with a small frown as concern grew when he saw Lauren help you walk over.

"Is everything alright, cariño? Is it the baby?" Miguel brushed some of your hair behind your ear. You would explode if one more person asked you if you were alright.

"Y-yes. It's just Braxton hicks. I-I'm fine. Let's just cut the cake."

"How long have you been feeling this way?" You lightly glared at Miguel, knowing he would take you to the hospital no matter what you said. He sent you the same glare back.

"30 minutes." You tell him.

"How far apart are they?" You roll your eyes.

"Like 30 seconds. We're not-"

"I'm taking you to the hospital." Miguel gently placed his arm around your waist as he was about to lead you out.

"Miguel, no, we are not leaving our son's birthday. I'm fine. I can wait until after the party is over." You close your eyes, feeling another cramp. You sit down in a chair in protest.

"Amor, I'll carry you to the hospital if necessary," Miguel said as you both had a stare down. You take your phone as you call the doctor's office.

"To ease your worries, I'll call the doctor." Miguel nods, admitting defeat as you put the phone to your ear.

"Yep, Doctor says it's Braxton hicks." You say to Miguel. He holds out his hand, asking to talk to the doctor. You roll your eyes as you pass him the phone. After a few minutes, he hung up the phone as you arch your eyebrow.

"Yeah, alright. It's Braxton hicks. I wanted to see if you weren't lying just so I wouldn’t take you to the hospital." You smile at him in victory as he rolls his eyes playfully with a smile and kisses your cheek.

Miguel calls for the kids saying it's time for cake. Mateo sits with his friends at the table, jumping in his seat excitedly. You get your phone out and start a video as everyone sings happy birthday.

Tears brimmed the corners of your eyes as Mateo blew out the candles. You couldn't believe he was already six years old. You remember when he was just a baby sleeping in your arms.

"What did you wish for, Mateo?" Asked Simon, Mateo's best friend.

"I wished for my baby sister and me to get along. And I wish for a Nintendo Switch." Said Mateo, which made your heart glow. You felt as if an invisible weight was lifted off your shoulders. Mateo was excited to meet his baby sister.

You couldn't wait to meet her too.

Month 8

Your due date was in three weeks. In three weeks, there will be an infant in your home. It was a Friday night, and Mateo had a playdate/sleepover after school, so you didn't have to worry about picking him up until morning.

It was also a day when Miguel had to go into HQ to work, to his annoyance as he wanted to be home just in case the baby came early. You assured him you would be fine. Since he left, you have been in the nursery, ensuring everything was perfect before the baby came. You learned from one of your many pregnancy classes that what you were doing was called nesting. When you first learned about the term, you thought it was ridiculous. But now that it's happening to you, it wasn't so silly.

It was 1 am when Miguel got home. He expected you to be asleep in their bedroom, but when he noticed a light in the nursery, he went to check it out. And there you were, sorting through diapers, clothes, and other baby products. You were facing away from the door while folding baby clothes on the changing table.

You felt Miguel wrap his arms around you and place a kiss on your neck. But you barely noticed as your mind focused on ensuring you were ready for the baby's arrival.

"It's very late; you should head to bed." His words fell deaf to your ears. Miguel pouted as he turned your head and kissed your lips lovingly, which broke your trance.

"Oh, hi, Miggy. When did you get back?" You say as you go back to folding.

"A few minutes ago. Amor, how long have you been doing this?"

"When did you leave this morning?" You asked.

"Did you rest at all? Did you eat or drink anything?" Miguel asked, concerned for your well-being. You paused for a second, trying to remember what you did, but your mind went blank.

"I guess not." You say as you take the folded clothes and move to the set of drawers you put them away. Miguel follows you as he takes the clothes from your hands and puts them on top of the drawers.

"You need to rest."

"I will when I'm done." You gasp when Miguel picks you up bridal style and carries you to your shared bedroom. He then set you down gently on the bed.

" I love you, but sleep." He commanded as he kissed your cheek before getting ready for bed and getting into bed with you.

When the lights were off, and you thought Miguel was asleep, you carefully got up and out of bed and returned to the nursery. But of course, as soon as you walked into the nursery, Miguel was right behind you, giving you a small heart attack as he picked you up and returned you to bed.

This time when you both got into bed, he placed his arm around you so you wouldn't escape. You pouted up at Miguel as you both lay in bed. He kissed you on the lips before turning off the lights again.

"Buenas Noches, hermosa. Go to sleep."

Month 9

It was a week before your due date. And any day you could burst.

You woke up feeling fine this morning, and you and Miguel began your weekly morning routine with Mateo as you walked him to school. It happened after saying goodbye and walking a block from the school.

Your water broke. At first, you didn't 100% know what happened, but as soon as it did, you felt an unbearable pain in your stomach. It was a contraction. As your mind was finally coming to terms with what was happening. You registered that you were in labor. And your baby girl was coming today.

At your side, Miguel picked you up in his arms as he quickly returned to the apartment and grabbed your go back for the hospital. He then put you in the car and rushed over to the hospital.

Before you knew it, you were in a hospital gown with Miguel holding your hand, nurses all around you, and a doctor ready to deliver your child as they coached you through the contractions.

Even with the epidural, you still felt some of the pressure of the contractions, which were still painful. Time didn't feel real as you tried to push the baby out. It was your second time. Why did it feel like you had never given birth before? Your head rested on Miguel's shoulder as tears fell down your eyes.

"I-I c-can't. I'm too tired." You sob out loud. Miguel pressed his lips to your forehead. He hated seeing you in pain. It tore at his heart. He wishes he could remove the pain to make it easier for you.

"You got this cariño. You can do this. Five more minutes of pain for a lifetime of happiness." Miguel's words of affirmation brought some hidden strength inside you as you gave it one final push. And you were done.

You laid back against the hospital bed in tears of joy and relief when you heard the cries of your daughter.

"Mi amor, you did amazing. Thank you for bringing our baby girl into this world." Miguel kissed your head as a tear rolled down his cheek. He was overcome with joy as were you.

"Congratulations." Said the doctor as she passed you, your little bundle of joy in your arms. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes as you saw your daughter for the first time.

"Hi there." You say in a baby voice as you kiss your daughter's forehead. You see her move slightly in your arms. Even though she was only a few minutes old, you could see the strong O'Hara features she shared with her brother and father.

"What name have you chosen for her?" Asked one of the nurses.

"I was thinking of the name Mariana." You look at your baby girl before your gaze meets Miguel's. You could see his heart glow in his eyes as he looked at you in surprise as tears brimmed the corner of his eyes.

"Gabi's middle name?" Miguel said out loud to you.

"To honor her big sister." You say to Miguel as a tear falls down his cheek. The biggest smile spreads across his face as you gently give him your newborn daughter.

She was so tiny in his arms. Some of her features reminded him of Gabi, as he held his newborn daughter in his arms and gently kissed the top of her head. He smiled at you as another tear rolled down his cheek. "Mariana is perfect for her."

"Mariana Catalina L/n O'Hara."

Three Months Later

The sound of your daughter crying on the baby monitor instantly woke you up. Looking at the alarm, it was 2:15 am. She was hungry.

You were about to get up when Miguel touched your shoulder and kissed your neck. "Don't worry, amor. I'll get up. You go back to sleep."

Miguel stood up from the bed and walked out of the bedroom and towards the nursery. As he entered the room, he picked up his wailing daughter. "Shhhh, it's okay, Princesa. Papa's here." Miguel whispered as he cradled her in one of his arms as he walked to the kitchen to grab his daughter her bottle.

Within a few minutes of being in his arms, she calmed down as she cooed and giggled as she looked up at him with her big brown eyes.

He walked back to the nursery as he fed her. He rocked her in his arms after he finished feeding her. He could see her not falling asleep immediately, so he began singing her a lullaby.

You heard Miguel begin to sing to your daughter through the monitor. You got out of bed, unable to resist seeing the adorable sight in person. You quietly walk to the nursery, lean against the door, and watch Miguel lull your daughter back to sleep.

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word; Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird..." You hear Miguel sing.

Your heart melted at the sight. A memory you will always keep forever close to you. Once Mariana returned to sleep, he gently kissed her forehead before settling her back in her crib. You gently walked up to him as you both watched your daughter sleep.

"I thought you were asleep?" Whispered Miguel to you as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I couldn't resist not seeing her adorable face." You whisper back as you gaze lovingly at your daughter. "I can't believe it's already been three months since we brought her back from the hospital." You add.

"I know, it's going by too fast," Miguel said as he led you out of the nursery and back towards your bedroom. “We could give Mariana and Mateo another brother or sister in a year or two." Miguel added.

"Funny joke." You look up at him wide-eyed as you lightly chuckle.

"No, cariño. I'm serious."

The End

____________________________________________

Tag List

@theprettyarachnid

@crowleysthings

@gryffinclawstuff

@toaffes

@miggyyyyohara

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did.💕

Stay tuned for “ An Unexpected Match.”

[veronicaphoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Epilogue | Words: 16.4k

Author's note: Get yourselves a few cups of coffee ready (or tea, for those who are more into it or have an addiction like myself) because this is super long and it's full of sweetness, fluff, and horny men utterly in love with their girl.

This takes place a year and a half after part 3.

Tags & trigger warnings: polyamorous relationship, three people totally in love with each other that go on a very-much-deserved vacation, a bit of implied angst at the beginning, but mostly kinky men, men tied-up, sexual content including p in v (unprotected), oral (both m. and f. receiving), face-sitting, accidental biting, light choking, implied anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, (a lot of kinks actually, if you start squinting), and probably another bunch of things that I'm forgetting because this epilogue is really long, so forgive me.

This is dedicated to @blessedwithabadomen because without her, half of this fic would probably not exist. Thank you for your constant support and love on this work, and for helping me sort out the writing for the last parts of this story, and for your reassurance whenever I was drowning in self-doubt 🥹 Also, please, if you haven't, go check out her story: In love with the mess. You will truly not be disappointed, and it's just about to get so so so good! Couldn't feel more blessed and thankful for the effort and dedication she's putting into that work ✨ Thank you, L. 🤍

A year and a half later 

London, United Kingdom

Heathrow Airport was buzzing with activity when our plane touched down from LAX in the late afternoon. 

            Noah and I had purposely booked a night flight to ease our jetlag once we hit the UK. It was one of those rare times we were traveling purely for some well-deserved vacation, a break from the hectic schedules of work and touring with Bad Omens. But despite spending the night in the plane, Noah was desperate to unclip his seat belt, get out of the airport with a strong coffee in hand, get to the hotel, and throw himself on the bed. Trying to catch some sleep on the flight was always a struggle for him with his long frame squished into those tiny seats. And I wasn't exactly well-rested either; but I was too excited to see Oliver.

            Our last time together —the three of us— had been nearly two months back in the US at a festival where Bring Me The Horizon and Bad Omens were playing. Even though we were all committed to the relationship and always managed to make time for each other —traveling back and forth whenever possible—, those chance encounters were always a bonus and we enjoyed them all the same. 

            We were still figuring out how to deal with the distance. BMTH had been around for a while, so Oliver had more freedom to move from one place to another, hence why we had been talking about him moving over to the States. We had, in fact, checked some houses in different neighborhoods a while ago, but we hadn’t decided anything yet, beginning with the fact that we had a budget and the houses we saw exceeded it, especially the one I fell in love with. Moving to the UK ourselves wasn't really on the cards, not with Bad Omens still climbing their way to the top and Noah’s and I’s residence being in the America.

            For the past couple of months, we'd been counting down the days until we could see Oliver again. Noah wasn’t very vocal about it, but he was just as eager as I was. Right now, however, he was probably just thinking about grabbing the hotel room key and crashing out in bed for a solid night's sleep. The streets of London could wait for us until next morning. 

            Despite how good things were now, there had been tough days, of course.

            When the UK NextGen tour ended, Oliver wasted no time in buying a plane ticket to join us for the last week of Bad Omens' tour across Europe. However, once the end approached, the farewell was imminent. Noah and I were eager to return home. He was obviously more exhausted than the rest of us. He lacked hours of sleep, and his body was beginning to feel the strain.

            The farewell was bittersweet. There were tears and hugs that lingered too long. What hurt the most was witnessing the final embrace between Noah and Oliver.

            During the time we spent together in Europe, their relationship had grown significantly. The fact that the three of us were in a polyamorous relationship played a big part, but it also seemed like they had found each other after a long time as friends. On one occasion, during one of Bad Omens' day off in Europe, I found the two of them napping in the hotel room when I had slipped away to the nearest Starbucks for a Caramel Macchiato. The sight of them lost in their dreams, cuddled up next to each other in bed, was so tender that it felt like my heart would burst. I kept a picture of that moment stored safely on my phone. 

            Nevertheless, however peaceful that moment was, there were hard moments that had to happen for us to be where we stood right now. There was jealousy, of course. While I never stopped feeling loved by both of them, even when they had their moments and spent hours away from me, focused on their work and making music together, the feeling wasn't the same for Oliver and Noah. It was inevitable because an ocean separated us, and at some point they started feeling that I spent more time with the other. Their heated argument in Oliver’s house the previous summer had thankfully resolved this issue, regardless of both ending up sleeping on the sofa. The good thing about that week in Sheffield was that the drop that spilled the cup killed two birds in one go, resolving the tension that had been building between Noah and Oliver because they refused to acknowledge that they wanted each other the same way they wanted me. 

The image of both of them angry was not a pretty one. Seeing them unleash those demons on stage could be very fun and exciting, but when it was at home, it wasn't pleasant at all. Luckily, we were in a much better place right now and that was part of the past. After that heated fight that nearly got physical, things got so much better. During that trip, we canceled the plans we had for the few days we had left in Sheffield, and decided to spend them holed up at Oliver's house, focusing on resolving our issues, insecurities, and fears, and making up for the lack of affection from the previous days. The reconciliation was so effusive that every time after discussing doubts and possible conflicts that might arise and the solution to these, we ended up having wild sex, and by the time our time together came to an end, we had blessed every corner and nook of Oliver's house, we had used up three boxes of condoms, and we had left the marks of our hands and knees on glass, furniture, and windows.

            This time, a year later, the plan was to  embark on a road trip to the Lake District, where Oliver had booked a chalet. Sheffield was on the way, so we would make a quick stop to pick up Luna. But first, we were to stay in London for three days. I had booked tickets to the Jack the Ripper Museum and to the Harry Potter studios, and I wanted to get to know the city a bit better, so I had planned a route along the Thames and through Camden Town.  

            The moment I spotted Oliver standing right outside the arrival gates at the airport, his smile widened, mirroring mine. Leaving Noah with the luggage, I hurried over to him, and he caught me in his arms. I wrapped my limbs around him, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth and every other thing offered by his sole being. 

            “Hi, love,” he greeted. 

            “Hi,” I responded, giving him a gentle kiss. “I missed you.”

            “So have I,” Noah chimed in from behind, his voice sounding a tad annoyed as he maneuvered the trolley laden with our suitcases. “I’m the one that needs to be held, by the way.”

            With a laugh, I disentangled myself from Oliver and watched as he closed the distance to Noah. Their embrace was tight, their kiss passionate, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sight. 

            “Long flight?” Oliver inquired. 

            “Just like every other time, but it’s not the flight that’s the issue,” Noah replied. 

            “It’s the long legs,” I interjected.

            “We’ll book you a masseur once we’re at the hotel,” Oliver suggested, wrapping his arm around Noah’s shoulders. 

            I furrowed my brow at the suggestion.

            “Noah doesn’t need a masseur,” I stated, feeling offended. Stepping back slowly as we started to move towards the exit, I kept my eyes on them. They both seemed to find my reaction amusing, their grins widening. I couldn’t help but soften, a smile betraying my feigned offense. 

            Oliver reached out and tousled my hair, which I didn’t mind. After the long flight, I was already a mess. I sidled up next to him, tilting my head to kiss his jaw as the three of us made our way out of the airport. 

As soon as we stepped into the hotel room in London, Noah dropped his bags and collapsed face-first onto the extra-large bed. Following suit, Oliver removed Noah’s shoes from his feet, which dangled over the edge of the bed. It always struck me how Noah managed to make everything seem small in comparison. 

            Oliver removed Noah’s socks and began massaging his tired feet, paying no mind to the fact that both Noah and I desperately needed a shower. Despite offering to make him coffee or order food, Noah declined, already on the brink of sleep. Before drifting off, however, he mentioned that I must be hungry and suggested Oliver and I go out to eat while he took a nap. 

            With that, Oliver and I left Noah to rest (ensuring to hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door) and set out to find a nearby spot for a quick meal. Despite the weariness of our journey, the stroll was a welcome relief for my legs. As we walked, Oliver would occasionally reach out to take my hand, his touch sending a warm flutter through me. He would also point out little details of the cityscape that he knew I would appreciate while filling me up with updates from work and about his family.

            Eventually, we settled for a vegan cheese roll with falafels from a quaint street vendor. As we sat on a bench, heleaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with gentle fingers. The simple act sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but lean into his touch, feeling the weight of the journey melt away in his presence.

            By the time we finished eating, my head was resting on Oliver's shoulder, and I could feel myself drifting off, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city. We felt like carefree teenagers who had just escaped from class but weren’t quite ready to head home yet. Despite the usual surge of excitement that swept over me whenever the three of us were reunited in the same city, my body felt drained. No matter how hard I tried to summon energy from within, each bite of food seemed to weigh me down further, and Oliver’s constant attentiveness, his arms wrapping around me at every opportunity, only intensified the sensation. 

            “How is he doing?” He asked suddenly, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of my skull. He was referring to Noah. 

            In an instant, memories flooded back, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls of my mind. Bad Omens was on a deadline to get their new record ready before summer’s end, and the pressure had ensnared Noah in a relentless grasp. Consumed by his passion, as typical of him, he had neglected his mental health, and us. Noah had moved into my apartment during the summer before, but the moment he started working intensively in new music, he had practically moved back to the confines of the house he shared with Jolly, Jesse, and Orie. What began as weekday absences soon stretched into weekends lost, then an entire month slipped through and we hadn’t spent not even one night in each other’s arms. He was going to the gym and keeping track of his diet, but the problem was that he was not taking a break. Of course, we were having sex, but sometimes it felt devoid of passion, as if it was a job that had to be done and left me adrift in a sea of longing. He had also started to miss Oliver’s calls, especially the ones after I had talked to Oliver myself and I had cried over the phone, asking him to please come to Los Angeles or get me on a flight to England.  

            “Much better,” I murmured, drawing in a breath heavy with the weight of the obstacles we’d had to overcome the previous months. 

            Memories of the night in which I couldn’t hold it any longer flooded my senses. I had been in Noah’s house, waiting for an hour for a date that he had obviously forgotten about. When tears started cascading down my cheeks, Jolly and Jesse intervened and got his ass out of the studio. Noah’s eyes were red and his hair greasy. 

            “I guess seeing me having a breakdown did something to him. He looked shaken. Scared, even. And after that…” I sighed, relieved. “He's trying harder now, focusing on everything else that also matters.” Us. “He talked to his therapist and he’s managing things in a different way. He’s going to be okay. And we’ll be ok, too.”

            Looking into Oliver’s earthy eyes, I could see his relief. He had been absent most of those difficult times, and he’d been worried about Noah and about me, his concern also getting the worst of him at times. At some point he’d been this close to dropping his own job stuff and getting on a plane to come be with me and give Noah a good spanking. Thankfully, it never came to that. Things got better. Now, we were reunited again, the three of us. We were better, trying every day, and supporting each other through our imperfections.  

            As we made our way back to the hotel room an hour later, I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of Noah’s favorite coffee. I hadn’t been able to resist a few sips, the familiar taste being a comforting distraction from my fatigue. 

            Noah was awake and fresh from a shower when we entered the room, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel that barely covered him from the waist down, his damp hair clinging to his temples and forehead. Even though I had witnessed this sight countless times before and could conjure it up in my mind whenever I pleased, it never failed to stir something primal within me. 

            “I brought you coffee,” I managed to say, my throat feeling suddenly dry as I handed him the cup. 

            “My angel,” he replied, his lips curling into a grateful smile as he took the Starbucks cup from my hand and brought it to his lips. 

            His gaze shifted to Oliver as he sipped the coffee. Oliver approached him, passing by me with a mischievous half-smile, and ran a finger down Noah’s chest, trailing down to his navel. Before he could say anything, Noah’s free hand shot out, gripping Oliver’s wrist, preventing him from venturing any further. 

            “Let me finish my coffee first,” Noah murmured, his voice low and husky. 

            Oliver responded with a throaty laugh, the sound sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through the room. 

            I couldn’t find rest until nightfall came. Despite my insistence that Noah and Oliver let me catch some much-needed sleep in bed while they entertained themselves on the sofa in the room, they conspired together to convince me otherwise. They argued that it would be better for me to expend the last of my energy and then enjoy a more restful deeper sleep. 

            As if our first night together each time we reunited was ever a night of rest, of course. 

            How naïve I was to entertain such notion, considering that I always allowed them to have their way with me both before and after dinner. 

The first day in London was a whirlwind, leaving Noah and me feeling drained and struggling to regain our footing. The subsequent days, thankfully, unfolded at a gentler pace. We indulged in the luxury of sleeping in and enjoying breakfast in our room, accompanied by tender moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, and the occasional lustful touch. 

            While I briefly talked to my brother on the phone the second morning, Noah took out his MacBook from his bag and started working, which caused Oliver to scold him because we had all agreed that this vacation would be work-free. I couldn't help but shoot Noah a disapproving look, too, which quickly transformed into a gentle shoulder rub and a heartfelt conversation. I couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. I reminded him that he didn't need to be so hard on himself and that it was perfectly acceptable to disconnect from work for a while. Nothing would happen. 

            I understood, though, that part of Noah’s reluctance to let go stemmed from his deep-seated fear of everything that he had built crashing down the moment he stepped away from his responsibilities. For months —even years— I’d been trying to help him to get rid of this fear, but Noah’s stubbornness matched his dedication to his work. Bad Omens was everything to him. When he had nothing, he had the band. I knew I wasn’t the perfect role model in this regard, but I was making an effort to help him let go, offering some reassurance that morning in London as I massaged his tense shoulders and tempted him with the multitude of activities we could do during our time in the city. 

I’d been to Camden Town before, but spending the day with Oliver and Noah proved to me much more fun and memorable. We lost ourselves in the maze of market stalls, where eccentric vendors tried to sell their stuff with infectious enthusiasm, and stumbled upon a booth selling quirky hats and accessories, where we tried on an assortment of those, collapsing into fits of laughter as we admired ourselves in the mirrors. 

            But the highlight of that day came when we stumbled upon a street performer—a magician with gloved hands and a twinkle in his eyes. He made us stop by pointing towards me insistently with a finger. I would have ignored it weren’t it for Oliver, who pulled me, and per consequent, Noah, who has holding onto my other hand, to stand in front of the man. He took out a deck of cards from his pocket, and without uttering a word, he made me choose one of them. I couldn’t see them for they were facing down. I didn’t take long to choose one and flip it around to be met with a card called the Ace of Pentacles. I raised an eyebrow, for I had no clue what it meant, and by the look on Oliver and Noah’s faces, they didn’t know, either. 

            For the first time, the magician spoke with a grin on his face. 

            “Something new will be offered to you, young lady.” 

            “Something new?” I repeated automatically. 

            Noah let go of my hand. When I turned to him, he was glaring at the man with a mix of suspicion and disbelief. The man moved his eyebrows up and down as he stared at Oliver and Noah. I followed the movement of his eyes, expecting either one of the boys to say something to me. 

            But they said nothing. Oliver handed the man a few coins and pulled me away from him.       “What was that about?” I asked as he hurried me through the people crowding the alleyways. 

            “Just some street magic,” Oliver replied, his tone casual, but his eyes betraying a hint of unease. 

            Noah, still struggling to keep pace with Oliver’s determined strides, wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Yeah, just a gimmick,” he chimed in, his voice a soft murmur against my hair. 

            “He was definitely trying to tell me something.”

            Oliver glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s just a street performer, love. They say things to entertain.” 

            “He was probably just trying to keep the act interesting,” Noah added. 

            “That’s why you’re both trying so hard to dismiss his words?” 

            “That’s what you think we’re doing?” Noah replied.

            “You’re being blatantly obvious.” 

            Oliver shared a look with Noah and then shook his head. I slapped his chest, demanding his attention. He replied by wrapping his arms around me and muttering his next words between gritted teeth. 

            “Just let it go, babydoll. Don’t be so stubborn and let things be.” They were definitely hiding something, but it was also obvious that they were not going to say anything. “How about we grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

            The idea of food was a welcome distraction, and I nodded eagerly in agreement. 

            Together, we weaved our way through the maze of food stalls, the tantalizing aroma of various cuisines wafting through the air. We settled in when we found a free spot, and the tension seemed to dissipate. 

            But try as I might, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that the cryptic words from that man had a meaning, maybe something that somehow involved Oliver and Noah, and perhaps even me. I had more reason to believe that when I caught them talking about it again after they thought I had wandered to a vintage toys stall in the underground area of Camden Town. 

            “That was some creepy shit back there, man,” Noah said to him. “How the hell did he know?”

            “He didn’t know anything,” Oliver retorted, trying to sound confident in his words, but he failed miserably, and he knew it. 

            “Dude,” Noah replied, insistent. “I saw the look on your face.”

            “Well, I prefer to ignore it, or better: let’s get her s—…”

            I couldn’t grasp the rest of the conversation because a group of teenagers accidentally pushed me and pulled me further from Noah and Oliver, dragging me to the opposite side of the shop with useless apologies and giggles. I sent them a sullen look and made my way out, looking for my boys. 

            I found them after a few minutes, coming out from a packed shop in a corner that was surrounded from every corner, top, bottom, and sides, by merchandising from different movies, series, and bands.          

            Noah was putting his wallet  back in the front pocket of his jeans while Oliver carried a quite big box. I raised an eyebrow. 

            “What did you buy?” I asked when I was in front of them. The three of us moved slightly to the side to let the tourists move through the narrow alleys. 

            “Something for you,” Oliver said. “Noah told me you’ve spent the last couple of weeks watching Chucky so…”

            “We got you a Tiffany,” Noah finished as Oliver faced the front of the box to me. 

            I blinked as the replica of Tiffany Valentine stared back at me with her singular smile. She was dressed in her wedding gown and a biker’s jacket, and she looked just as malicious as she was in the movies.

            “Oh, my God, guys,” I held the box, keeping it at a fair distance to examine the details of the doll. “This must have costed a fortune. What were you thinking?!”

            “That crazy guy back there said that something would be offered to you so… I guess he was right, after all,” Noah replied.

            I licked my lips and looked at them with a face that said, “seriously?”. But how could I neglect the joy at the fact that they had thought about gifting me a collectible of this magnitude?

            “Where are we going to keep her? In the room? You’ll both get freaked out in the middle of the night if you get up to go to the bathroom.” 

            “We’ll go together, holding hands,” Oliver joked. 

            And with our laughs mixing with the sounds of the market, we moved forward. 

            Come evening, we made our way back to the city center and enjoyed a warm copious meal in a restaurant in Covent Garden. 

            The next day, walking along the banks of the Thames, hand in hand with my boys, the whispering breeze brushing against our skin, we sipped hot chocolates. I was holding Oliver’s hand while relishing in the drink when I noticed Noah walking angrily at a certain distance. I let go of Oliver’s hand, earning a shocked look from him. 

            “You can’t both hold one of my hands and still expect me to hold a cup of hot chocolate. Don’t be so dramatic.” 

            With our voices mingling with the voices of other tourists and pedestrians, we walked the long way from Westminster to the Tower Bridge, sharing stolen kisses. While in London, we also hopped on the Jack the Ripper tour,shivering with excitement and clinging to each other as we delved into the city's darker past. Then, to lighten the mood, we ventured to the Harry Potter Studios, where Oliver couldn't resist teasing Noah relentlessly, suggesting how good he would look with Harry Potter’s glasses and a tunic, with nothing underneath. Noah's flushed cheeks and playful slaps on Oliver's chest only fueled the laughter that echoed through the magical halls.

The day we left London in Oliver’s Range Rover had me feeling a bit jittery, especially after we made our pit stop in Sheffield for lunch and to pick up Luna before heading to Cumbria. 

            While I busied myself with packing groceries that Oliver had in the fridge and that would expire soon, I overheard the boys chatting upstairs. Being the naturally curious (and maybe slightly nosy person that I was when it came to those two), I had the intuition that they were discussing something they didn’t want me to hear. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d done that, after all. Plus, I still remembered that one time they argued and roared like lions to each other in this very room, accusing each other of hogging all my time. 

            I climbed the stairs, Luna trotting faithfully behind me with her tail wagging happily. When I peeked into Oliver’s study —a spot where he and Noah often locked themselves to work together—, I found them both bent over the computer screen, looking all serious. But as they noticed me, Oliver quickly closed his laptop. 

            “Is something wrong?” I inquired casually.

            “Nothing,” they replied simultaneously, their responses lacking conviction.  

            Noah brushed past me, planting a quick kiss on the crown of my head before smoothly transitioning to ask about our trip preparations. It was clear that he was attempting to steer the conversation away. 

            “What were you talking about?” I pressed. 

            “Work,” Oliver replied tersely, his tone final. “I’m sorry. That was the last of it. We’ll stay away from all of it during the trip.” 

            You better, I wanted to reply. 

            However, I wasn’t entirely convinced, and not in regards to this last statement. Perhaps they were simply hashing out some night scenario that involved sex toys and all those things they liked to use when the three of us were in bed. The thought momentarily eased my apprehension, though a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something.  

The trip to Cumbria took about two hours from Sheffield. We made a brief stop in a rural village to allow Luna a chance to stretch her legs while we refueled the car and enjoyed a cup of coffee and a snack. 

            Arriving at the chalet by Ullswater Lake just after five in the afternoon, the warm glow of the summer sun still lingered, promising us a few more hours of daylight to enjoy. After receiving the keys from the chalet host and familiarizing ourselves with the property, we decided to take a walk by the lakeside and play with Luna, who seemed even more static than the three of us at the prospect of spending a few days away from home.

            The serenity of the countryside quickly enveloped us, offering a respite from the hustle and bustle of our lives in the city. While Oliver and Noah unloaded the luggage, I decided to stay on the porch, basking in the new surroundings and peaceful ambiance. All I could hear was the birdsong, the rustle of leaves, and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. 

            “Doll, you comin’ in?” Oliver’s voice broke through my moment of enchantment as he enveloped me in his arms.

            “Yeah,” I replied with contentment, leaning into his touch. 

            “We’re going to have a good time here,” he mused. 

            I hummed in agreement, savoring the intimacy of the moment and wrapping my arms around my middle, where his kept me securely pressed against his chest. 

            “Especially our pretty boy back there,” he teased, casting a playful glance over his shoulder towards the inside of the house, where Noah was. 

            “Thank you for doing this for him,” I acknowledged.

            “I know he needs it the most, but this is for all of us,” he explained, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice as he recalled the challenging months leading up to this moment. “We haven’t had proper holidays the three of us together since… forever.”

            “We’ve been dating for a year and a half,” I reminded him, unable to suppress a smile at his melodramatic flair.  

            He responded with a mock growl, his actions sparking laughter between us. 

            “Come on, let’s go in. You’re going to love the bedroom.”

            He led the way inside. 

            The interior of the house had a rustic charm, with wooden planks adorning the walls and ceiling. The sofa faced the towering windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, offering an uninterrupted vista of the swaying trees and the tranquil expanse of the lake, its surface shimmering in the dappled sunlight. There was also a stone fireplace (not that we would use it, but it added to the coziness of the house). Adjacent to the living room, the kitchen lay open and inviting. Noah had left the food bag on the countertop, next to a water-filled vase that held a bouquet of white flowers that the host had placed right that morning, as a welcoming sign.  

            There was one guest bathroom and, inside the suite, a main one with a bathtub. The suite had a grandiose plush bed dominating the space. Either Oliver or Noah had placed the Tiffany doll box in the middle of it, propped against the bunch of pillows that were calling to me.

            Noah was crouched by the tall windows on the far end, taking out some stuff and clothes from his bag when Oliver and me made our way in. 

            “It’s practically begging you to dive in, isn’t it?” Noah chimed in from the floor, gesturing towards the bed. Opposite the bed, a large mirror hung on the wall, the reflective surface capturing the play of light and shadow that danced through the room.

            Beside Noah, there was a cozy long divan. For an innocent instant, I conceived the idea of laying there with a book in my hands and a steamy cup of tea next to it, totally unaware that I would be propped there in all fours with no book nearby in less than twenty-four hours. 

After the evening walk, we entertained ourselves preparing a light dinner meal that would suit everyone’s tastes. Balancing Oliver's vegan diet and Noah's muscle-building goals wasn't always easy, but we managed. I wasn’t too picky myself, so I was happy with whatever was on the menu.

            With dinner done, we headed out to the porch overlooking the lake. Feeling witchy, I prepared a pot of lavender tea and served us a cup each. By eleven o’clock we were comfortably settled, wrapped in hoodies and blankets in the chairs provided. Noah was snug in one of his hoodies, but Oliver was barefoot, though. We talked for a while, going over through the activities that we would do while in Cumbria. The moment I noticed that the talk was steering back towards work-related topics, I brought back the talk about the house. We’d been thinking about moving in together and find a place in Los Angeles, and even though we had gone house hunting a few times, we couldn’t seem to agree on one house, and I had the nagging feeling inside of me that maybe Oliver and Noah were still not ready to take that step, even if we would spend half of the time away from each other with their tours and Oliver having his family and most of his life in England.  

            As the night deepened, our chatter gradually subsided, giving way to a peaceful silence that allowed me to take in the things I should be grateful for. 

            With a contented smile on my face, I looked at my boys one last time before allowing sleep to take over me. One of them lifted me into their arms and guided me into the house and to the bed. It didn’t matter which one it was. They both felt like home whenever I was tucked against their bodies. 

            They were home. 

It was ten thirty in the morning when I came out from the bedroom, where I had been rummaging through my clothes looking for the swimming piece I had recently bought. My heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and concern as I found Noah seated on the sofa, his brow furrowed in a deep frown as he stared intently at his MacBook screen. I told him so many times to leave the laptop back at Oli’s house, but to hell if he would ever listen when it came to these things…            Without a word, I approached him, my fingers finding his back and gently starting to massage his tense shoulders. A soft sight of contentment escaped his lips at the touch, but it was clear that the burdens weighing on his mind ran deeper than simple muscle tension. 

            Outside, the joyful sound of Oliver’s voice drifted in through the open door, accompanied by Luna’s excited barks as they played fetch by the water. Through the windows, I watched as Oliver, shirtless and with his hair all over the place, tossed the ball into the water, Luna running after it without hesitation and jumping into the lake. 

            A minute later, Oliver was in the water, too. 

            “Let’s go,” I said to Noah with encouragement, releasing his shoulders. 

            He turned his head to me with a dramatic pout. I just gave him a look and proceeded to lift his MacBook from his lap, placing it on the coffee table before taking Noah’s hand and guiding him towards the door. 

            Finally outside, Luna’s eager bark greeted us from the water. She emerged from the shore and trotted to us, her wet white fur glistening in the sunlight as droplets flew through the air. I reached out to pet her head, feeling the cool moisture against my skin, while Noah crouched down to squash her cheeks and shower her with affectionate whispers. 

            I shed the thin beach robe I wore and left it draped over the armrest of one of the wooden chairs that Oliver had moved to the deck earlier that morning. With my hair cascading down my back, I made my way to the edge, oblivious to the lingering stares of the two men, one behind me, the other one already in the water. I dipped my hand into the water before diving in headfirst. 

            As I submerged beneath the surface, the weight of the world seemed to lift from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of weightlessness and freedom. I swam further from the deck, distancing myself from Oliver. My limbs moved in harmony with the rhythm of the water. In the distance, the silhouette of another house peeked through the trees, a solitary boat resting on its landing. The only sounds were the distant barking of a dog that wasn’t Luna and the gentle rustle of leaves. 

            Just as I was about to start swimming back to where I had last seen Oliver, I found him and Noah already in the water, their smiles radiant in the sunlight as they swam towards me. 

            Noah dipped his head, and as he came back to the surface he shook his head, causing water from his hair to splash in my face. I shielded my face with my hands, laughing. In no time, he had me wrapped in his embrace, peppering my neck with kisses. I hugged him tightly with my arms and legs around him. Moments later, Noah gently nudged me towards Oliver, who pulled me close with a perfect smile.  

            With his hair being longer, Oliver's locks cascaded around his face. I lovingly pushed them back, tucking them behind his ears, and I couldn't help but laugh at how different he looked with his wet hair slicked back. He said something as he raised an eyebrow, but his words were drowned out by Luna's leap from the dock. With a tennis ball clutched in her mouth, she swam over to us. Noah grabbed the ball and threw it far, prompting Luna to paddle after it will all her might. For the next hour, we played with her, reveling in the simple joy of the morning. After the tumultuous year we had endured, both personally and professionally, this vacation felt like a much-needed oasis in the desert.

            I felt a swell of pride, not just in myself, but in the two incredible men I was sharing my life with. 

            After a while, I found myself in Noah's arms again, letting him rock me side to side in the water, my head resting against his shoulder, my skin wrinkling from all the time we'd spent in the lake. Noah and Oliver were talking about a festival anecdote from the previous year in Milan, while Oliver absentmindedly toyed with Luna’s worn tennis ball. She was lounging lazily in the sun on the deck. But the boy’s conversation eventually dwindled into silence, a quietness that I only noticed when I felt Oliver’s chest against my back, his lips pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. I smiled, nestled against Noah’s body.

            Suddenly, Oliver’s hand, which had previously been resting on my waist, slid down to the seam of my bikini bottom, making me gasp. Noah was observing my reaction with a mischievous grin. Two seconds later, he deftly located the strings of my bikini top and skillfully untied the knot.  

            My questions about what they were doing went unanswered. 

            A wave of panic surged within me when the two pieces of clothing were removed from my body and I was suddenly naked in the water. I looked over my shoulder to Oliver only to find him swimming back towards the deck. Panicking, I looked at Noah. I was about to tighten my grip on him when he disentangled my limbs from his body, kissed me on the lips quickly, and also started swimming away from me.

            “Guys?”

            No reply.

            “Guys!” I screamed, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure we were alone.

            With no preamble, they got out of the water, meeting on the deck with my bikini pieces in hand, exchanging amused glances before turning their attention towards me, floating in the lake with wide eyes, trying to understand what the purpose of this was. Laughing, they headed towards the chairs, Oliver pausing at the outdoor shower to cleanse himself. Before turning on the water, he tossed my bikini bottom to Noah, who caught it in a swift movement of his arm.  

            “Are you kidding me?” I muttered to myself as I watched Oliver enjoy his shower and Noah have fun examining my bikini with an interested look on his face, as if it was something he had never seen before. 

            Nervously, I kept glancing around me, aware that if someone decided to come out from those houses in the distance or some people in a boat drove past this place they would see me, for the water was clear enough to reveal my nudity. 

            This wasn’t fun. Or at least not until I realized they had no intention of returning my swimming suit. The spectacle was too engaging for them to give it up so soon.  

            I licked my lips in a nervous attempt at sorting out my options. As much as I enjoyed letting them do these things, they were pulling on my strings, and you know that saying ‘two can play at a game’? Well, three can play, too. 

            So, I swam my way back to the shore and climbed the ladder, letting the water cascade off my body, down my breasts and my legs. I stood at the edge for a moment to sweep my hair back, relishing in the stunned expressions on their faces as their eyes scanned my bare body on display.  

            Yes, they had expected me to stay in the water and beg for my bikini. 

            Without sparing them a glance, I walked confidently back to the house, grabbing my towel on the way and wrapping it around me. As I entered the house, I looked back one last time to see their mouths agape.  

            I stuck my tongue out at them and headed towards the shower in the bedroom’s bathroom. 

It had not even been twenty minutes since I stepped into the bathroom to wash myself. While drying my hair, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, sporting a naughty smile. The dirty girl in me was just waiting for the provocation to pay off. 

            What took me by surprise was how quickly the anticipated scenario unfolded the moment I opened the bathroom door.  

            I wasn't even given time to look forward to the night. 

            Oliver and Noah were standing in the doorway leading to the bedroom, each casually leaning against one side, still wearing their trunks and their hair still slightly damp. They looked at me expectantly, wicked smiles playing on their lips.  

            It looked like a scene straight out of a movie, really. These things rarely happened in real life. 

            Knowing that minutes of pleasure awaited us –or perhaps hours (I was allowed to be optimistic)–, I provocatively slipped a finger into my mouth, teasingly nibbling on the tip while fluttering my eyelashes a couple of times. 

            Oliver's eyes traced a path up and down my figure, lingering on the expanse of my legs where the hem of Noah’s white t-shirt I had borrowed ended. Little did he know, I wasn’t wearing any panties, just like the time we attended my brother’s Jack engagement party. My mind had truly turned into a perverted thing. Just thinking about what we had done during that evening made me shiver with anticipation, imagining what could unfold today. 

            “Get on the bed.”

            The command didn’t come from Oliver or Noah, bur from my own lips. The startled expressions on their faces made the courage it took me to assert myself like that in their presence totally worth it. 

            Noah arched an eyebrow. 

            “What did you say?” 

            “You heard me,” I replied, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto my face despite the efforts to maintain an air of determination and dominance. The situation was electrifying, fueling an adrenaline rush that promised to leave me grasping for air.

            Oliver was the first to comply, albeit with a hint of reluctance, his gaze trailing me from the doorway to the expansive bed. He settled against the headboard, but I shook my head, silently motioning for him to lie down. Then, my attention turned to Noah. 

            “Noah?” My eyes met with a look that suggested he had a different idea of how things should unfold. I nearly rolled my eyes. 

            “Noah, could you please get on the bed?” I emphasized the ‘please’, hoping to appeal to his cooperation. 

            “Now that’s more like it,” he responded, finally acquiescing. 

            As I turned to retrieve something from the dresser where we had kept some of our stuff, I did roll my eyes. You might not be able to take the Dom out of Noah, but I was more than ready to keep trying, if only for the fun of it. 

            In the back of the top drawer, I found what I was looking for: two pairs of handcuffs. A smile played on my lips as I examined them before turning to face the guys. 

            They were both lying on the bed side by side, their heads slightly raised to watch me. Confusion tinged their expressions as they observed me standing there, the pair of handcuffs dangling from my fingers.           

            “What do you think you’re going to do with those?” Noah questioned as I approached him, taking his left hand and guiding it towards the bars of the bed’s headboard. 

            “It’s about time we turned the tables, don’t you think?” I replied, securing the first cuff, noticing how Noah’s expression was becoming strained. 

            “Baby, you don’t want to do this,” he protested. 

            “But you’re letting me, aren’t you?” I softened my voice, sweetening my tone. 

            Noah pursued his lips, a nervous twitch appearing in his jaw. 

            “I’d let you do anything. That doesn’t mean you have to take advantage of having me at your feet,” he argued. 

            “Don’t you think I deserve a little payback for you leaving me naked in the lake?”

            “You didn’t seem too upset when you came out of the water, doll,” Oliver interjected, lounging back to enjoy the interaction between me and Noah.  

            “A woman has to learn to govern herself, especially is she’s with two perverts like you two.”

            “I’m not a pervert,” Noah protested again. 

            Click. With both wrists now secured to the bed, from my position at the foot of the bed, the image looked tantalizing. But it was evident that Noah wasn’t comfortable not being the one in control. While my initial intent was merely revenge, I began to consider that perhaps this could end up helping Noah relax and let go. He was a control freak and a perfectionist, qualities I benefited from, but which could also burden him. 

            Noah tested the strength of the restraints, growing more frustrated as he realized his attempts were futile. The handcuffs were sturdy; they weren’t freaking toys.  

            I wasn’t too sure that Noah would withstand what I wanted to do to him without starting to plead for release, but it was worth a try. 

            “Dude, you are a perv,” Oliver said. 

            “Just because I enjoy sex and having fun during it doesn’t make me a perv,” Noah defended. 

            “Are you sure about that?” The other man challenged him.

            “Absolutely. Call me whatever you want, just not a pervert.”

            “Kinky lover?” I suggested. 

            “Hm. Yeah, that works for me,” He finally agreed. 

            Oliver’s laughter at the interaction ceased abruptly when I seized his wrist, securing his left hand alongside Noah’s right. 

            “What?” I spoke. “Did you think I was only going to tie up Noah? You took off my bikini bottoms,” I pointed out. 

            “Who’s laughing now, bastard?” Noah grunted. 

            Unlike Noah, Oliver submitted to being tied more readily, without making grumpy faces and pulling at the handcuffs. He simple observed with particular attention as I bound him.

            To secure his left wrist, I had to climb onto the bed and pass one leg over his lap, kneeling over his shorts. 

            “Are you not wearing any underwear?” He suddenly exclaimed. 

            Immediately, Noah’s eyes also dropped to the space between my legs. 

            I hurried to fasten the handcuffs, then stepped off the bed, pulling the shirt down to cover myself. 

            “Are your trunks still wet? I better take them off,” I suggested.

            “Yeah,” Oliver whispered, impatient and wide-eyed. “Take them off,” his words were accompanied by the not-so-subtle movement of his hips. 

            Noah, at his side, was growing increasingly hot and tense. He remained silent, only lifting his hips slightly when I indicated for him to do, allowing me to drop both their trunks to the floor. 

            To tease them a bit more, I stayed still for a moment, admiring their bodies, relishing in the sight of what they had between their legs. 

            Yeah, those were mine. 

            I licked my lips, alternating my gaze between the two. With the intensity of my stare, Oliver’s cock twitched slightly. 

            “Don’t move,” I instructed as I walked backwards towards the luggage. 

            “Is that some kind of joke?” Noah questioned, irritated.

            I retrieved a tiny light blue lingerie set from my suitcase. I hadn’t planned on wearing it until the last night, but it seemed like debuting it now could be fun. I rushed to the bathroom and locked myself in to change. 

            I didn’t spend more than five minutes there, but Oliver and Noah were growing so impatient. 

            When I opened the door, I was nervous, but at least, seeing them both securely tied to the bed alleviated some of it. 

            Their complaints dissipated the moment they saw me. As much as I would have loved to revel in a delicious torture and watch them fight against the restraints, watch their cocks grow harder and harder just by watching me, and thinking of what they might do to me and what I was going to do to them, impatience was already taking its toll on me, and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing anxiously.  

            I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself between the two bodies, placing my hands on their thighs. I caressed them, warming the skin of their legs as well as the skin of my own hands.

            I initiated the warm-up by kissing Oliver, a little reward for behaving. He responded hungrily, his roar muffled by the intensity of our kiss. Tracing my lips along his jaw and down his neck, I savored the sensation, eliciting withheld moans that mingled with the sounds of Noah’s struggles against his handcuffs.  

            I may have had only one mouth, but I had two hands.

            I slid over to Noah, offering him a smile before pressing my lips to his. As I kissed and nibbled, my right hand trailed down Oliver’s chest, tracing the patterns etched into his skin from memory, reveling in the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. When I placed my palm face down, I could feel his heart racing. 

            Noah’s contentment, however, surprised me.  

            I had expected him to beg in a hoarse, choked voice to let him go, unable to bear being at my mercy, so mine was the surprise when instead, he asked me to touch him.

            I repositioned myself, glancing at Oliver before complying with Noah’s request. 

            “Touch him, doll,” Oli said. 

            My left hand moved down Noah's chest, past his navel and through the dark pubic hair before reaching his throbbing member and encircling it with my fingers. Noah let out a sigh that held all the air he had been holding inside. I tugged at him at the same time that my mouth descended through his neck until my lips landed on one of his nipples. He sucked in a breath. His back arched a little, and I took that as a notice to use my tongue to toy with his nipple, nibble at it and suck on it, just the way he loved doing with mine. 

            “Fuck…” 

            That was a glorious sound.

            I settled at the foot of the bed, and leaned down to caress the tip of Noah’s cock with my tongue. He tilted his head back, eyes closed. He was hard as a rock. 

            Beside him, Oliver wasn’t in much different condition, but his eyes were open, and he watched with lust and a fierce hunger the movements of my tongue, lips, and fingers on Noah's cock. 

            “Watch,” I told him, “because everything I'm doing to Noah I’ll do to you next.”

            I loved Noah’s taste. It was a potent blend of masculine essence with a tinge of salty and earthly kick. A surge of pride swelled withing me each time I witnessed how deeply I aroused him. That look of total pleasure on his face? I did that.

            With my mouth on his cock, Noah’s moans filled the room, resonating through the walls. The art of sucking him off was a dance I had mastered long ago, a rhythmic symphony orchestrated by the movements of my lips and tongue, the occasionally scrap of my teeth and a tortuous suction, guided by the music of Noah’s vocalizations. 

            However, I could sense he was holding back. A furrow appeared between his brows; his struggle evident as he strained against the handcuffs. After a few minutes, a vein in his neck began to swell. Next to him, Oliver muttered a curse, his own erection hurting for being neglected while his eyes couldn’t wander away from my ministrations on our pretty boy. 

            Soon, when I felt Noah tense in my mouth, on the brink of release, I withdrew. 

            “No!” He shouted, lifting his head in a rush. “Babe, what are you doing?” His tone was desperate, evident in the rapid rise and fall of his breath. 

            Running a finger across my lips, I moistened them before shifting my focus to Oliver.           “It’s Oliver’s turn.”

            “But— I didn’t come.”

            “And you won’t. Not in my mouth. Not now.”

            His brown eyes widened further as he watched me descend, mouth open and tongue out, towards Oliver’s cock, which was already glistening with precum. 

            “Goddammit, yes…” Oliver mumbled, smiling as he finally rested his head on the pillow, more than ready to succumb to the pleasure I was going to give him. 

            But as much as I wanted to recreate myself on him, and given that I’d assured him that I would repeat the same steps as I did on Noah, it was impossible. The spectacle I had put on with Noah’s cock had already pushed Oliver to the edge. If I were to repeat the same seductive dance with him, he would come in my mouth in less than a minute. 

            And I didn’t want that. 

            Oliver was more vocal than Noah, less inhibited in his desires. Louder. He welcomed me with complete abandonment.

            He hadn’t yet fully engaged with the suction of my mouth when he strained against the handcuffs. As I lifted my head, I noticed that both he and Noah had their eyes closed and they were holding onto each other with their hands clasped together on the headboard.

            How sweet. 

            When I pulled away from Oliver, I remained kneeled between them at the foot of the bed. They were covered in a layer of sweat, their flushed cheeks and erratic breaths emphasizing their captivity—they were tied to the bed, and they were mine.  

            I felt stupidly happy. 

            “That’s it? You’re not going to let us come?” Noah queried. 

            I shrugged, my hands on my knees. 

            “Maybe if you play your cards right…”

            “You know we always do,” Oliver declared with a certain roughness in his voice, now tugging at the restraints. 

            “I’m going to release you,” I said to Noah, positioning myself over him and stretching my body so that my still covered chest hovered above his face. “But only if you promise not to pounce on me like a lion as soon as you’re free.”

            In response to my warning, he playfully pretended to want to bite me, lifting his head and opening his mouth before closing his jaw. The gesture made the three of us laugh. 

            Releasing him, Noah’ didn’t lunge at me; instead, he grabbed my head to bring our lips together. 

            “One of us is still tied. This isn’t fair,” Oliver complained, tugging on the handcuffs for emphasis. 

            Raising an eyebrow with one of Noah’s hands still on my cheek, I retorted, “Don’t talk to me about what’s not fair when I spend half of the time tied to the bed and at your mercy.” 

            “Maybe that’s exactly what we should do now,” Noah interjected. “What do you plan to do about this, huh?” He asked, gesturing towards his reddened erection. 

            “I’ll take care of that,” Oliver declared, “if this feisty kitten decides to let me go.”

            I muttered a playful ‘whiner’ as I moved to Oliver’s lap, unfastening the handcuffs, and letting them fall onto the bedside table next to the keys. In a swift movement, Oliver pushed me onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp from me. His hands swiftly went to my underwear, starting to pull them down. 

            “Are these new?” He noticed. 

            I nodded. 

            “This is fucking sexy. This color looks so good on you,” he complimented as he ironically slid down my panties, tossing them onto the floor. “I’m sure Noah is having the time of his life, aren’t you?” 

            Indeed, Noah’s eyes were roaming over my chest. Being a man who had a particular interest in the underwear I wore, he admired the details on the design of the lacy bra before leaning in to pull the fabric covering my left breast down. Then, he placed his mouth atop of the peak of my breast and licked. 

            A moan escaped my lips. 

            “Always so sweet…” he murmured against my skin, “and so responsive. It only adds to the pleasure.” 

            Yeah…

            Just as with any of their touches, the sensation was intoxicating, and I didn’t want Noah to stop, but Oliver interrupted to insist my bra was unnecessary and I should be naked, always naked. Noah readily agreed, wasting no time in attaching his lips to my breasts again as soon as I was as naked as they were.   

            “I know she’s delicious, but I told you I’d take care of you,” Oliver reminded Noah, “so get on your back.”

            With a pleased smile, Noah complied, kissing my lips one last time before laying down next to me. 

            “He doesn’t have to say please?” I teased, raising an eyebrow at Noah. 

            “Don’t be so jealous,” he said to me, extending an arm to grab my forearm. “Come here.”

            I thought he wanted me to kiss him while Oli sucked him off, maybe cuddle him, and perhaps watch him as he came undone, but then he said, “Sit on my face.” 

            Even though it wouldn’t be the first time, the proposal always made me flush. Nonetheless, I couldn’t hide my excitement, a fact that Noah was quick to notice, a big grin spreading across his face as I shifted on the mattress. 

            “You love sitting on my face, don’t you, baby?” 

            I straddled Noah’s inked chest and leaned forward, feeling his hands grip my buttocks as he helped guide me. 

            “Wait a sec,” Oliver stopped us, causing Noah to glance from the side and above my thigh and prompting me to turn my head. 

            Oliver trotted towards the door, where Luna stood, undoubtedly confused by the scene before her. 

            “You shouldn’t see this, pretty girl,” Oliver said to her. “This one here is already corrupted, but you’re still a pure soul, so I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to close the door.”

            Like the good girl she was, she didn’t say anything. 

            Oliver closed the door and took a moment to open one of the windows on the right side of the bedroom, given that the temperature was quickly escalating indoors. 

            Noah’s laughter rumbled against my thigh as he placed a kiss before refocusing his attention on me. 

            “Hold onto the headboard if you need to. Or pull at my hair, I don’t mind.”

            I took a deep breath and gripped the headboard. I felt his breath between my legs. I closed my eyes momentarily to savor the sensation of his hands enveloping my thighs, pressing me down on him, and the anticipation of what was to come. 

            When I glanced down for a moment, I caught him softly murmuring a tender ‘I love you’ before his mouth found my center.  

            And I melted. 

            Already floating on cloud nine, Oliver kneeled at the edge of the bed and grabbed Noah’s ankles, pulling him towards him. In response, Noah tugged at my legs, prompting me to extend my arms so I could still brace myself against the headboard. 

            “What a fucking glorious view,” Oliver muttered, and I could only imagine. But my thoughts were quickly replaced when Noah’s lips and tongue worked fervently on my clit. By the way his fingers dug into my skin, I knew that Oliver finally had his mouth on him. 

            Even with a window open, the temperature in the room was rosing up steadily, matching the pace of my increasing heartbeat. Noah’s tongue moved with precision, expertly teasing and tantalizing me. He knew exactly how to play with me, using the tip of his nose to rub against my clit before letting his tongue snake out and wander between my folds. 

            As our moans intertwined, Noah’s movements intensified. His focus on me unwavering even as Oliver perpetuated a delicious torture on his cock, which caused a symphony of pleasure and curses to fill the air. The momentum kept building up, with Oli taking him deeper and deeper with every bobbing of his head and scrap of his teeth. Noah pressed me down harder to his face, and the pressure and suction on the spot between my legs was growing increasingly maddening. 

            It never led to madness because at some point Noah’s teeth trapped my clit in between and a sharp cry of pain escaped from my lips, breaking the haze of our pleasure.

            The reason: Oliver had sucked his tip in a way that nearly made him lose his sanity. In response, Noah accidentally bit my clit. 

            “Baby. Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

            His hands gripped my waist and pulled me down onto his chest, his eyes searching my face for signs of distress as I kept a hand between my legs, my eyes closed shut and my teeth scrapping my lower lip. 

            “What happened?” Oliver asked. 

            When Noah explained, Oliver burst into laughter, causing Noah to scold him before he shifted a bit to check my face again.

            “Baby?”

            “That was… not nice,” I managed to say, though my gaze softened as I opened my eyes and looked at Noah, his face adorned with pink swollen lips and traces of my arousal. 

            “I know, baby. I’m so sorry, it wasn’t on purpose,” he apologized, his hands stroking my arms.  

            “It’s ok. I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. 

            I reached out to touch his cheek and wipe away some of my arousal from his chin. He looked so beautiful like this, though. But I was suddenly lifted from atop Noah’s body by Oliver’s strong hands. 

            “Let’s see what all this pretty boy’s fuss is about.” He laid me down on the divan by the large windows overlooking the lake. His chest was glistened with sweat, and his scent mingled with mine, surrounding me in an heady embrace. 

            I took a deep breath as Oliver spread my legs open and inspected me closely. 

            “She looks pretty fine to me,” he said. 

            “I’m okay,” I muttered, feeling a twinge of shyness at the way he was observing me. 

            Noah came to stand on my side. In all honesty, they were a bit terrifying hovering over me while I was laying down. They would have made me tremble if it wasn’t for Noah’s concerned face. 

            “She’s wet and… very hard,” Oliver noticed, running his thumb up my clit, causing me to bite my lip and inhale sharply. 

            Noah bent down, running a soft hand through my hair and kissing my forehead. 

            “Doll, tell Noah you’re okay, otherwise his erection is going to turn into a withered flower.” Oliver’s joke made Noah roll his eyes as he stood up. 

            Instead of reassuring him verbally, I lifted myself on my elbows and directed my attention to his still-hard cock. With my eyes locked on his, I Indulged in tasting the tip once again, teasing him with my tongue. 

            “You sure you’re okay?” He struggled to say, losing focus. 

            “I’ll be better when I have you in my mouth and Olive between my legs.” 

            His expression shifted from concern to disbelief and then amusement. Yeah, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around the fact that he had me. He had me in every possible way. And he had Oliver, too. They both had me and I had them. 

            With one hand, I took Noah’s length into my mouth, pumping him until he groaned, his head falling back in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. His hands remained clasped together behind his back, emphasizing his muscular form. 

            Meanwhile, Oliver’s lips trailed a path of kisses up my thigh. Usually he was one to nibble, but it quickly dawned on me that maybe he was concerned, too, about Noah accidentally biting me, and he opted for keeping his touch soft and gentle. 

            “Do you have any idea how fucking good you look when she’s blowing you?” Oliver’s words to Noah were a seductive whisper, who made the young one struggle to swallow under his intense gaze. “Next time we’ll get her on her knees, and you will stand before her, with a full-length mirror in front of you. You will see your reflection while she tortures you with that sweet hot mouth, and there I’ll be, right behind you,” Oliver murmured, planting kisses on my legs, his green eyes fixed on Noah as I continued to suck him off. His words weaved a spell around him, Noah’s throat tightening, leaving him momentarily breathless as a drop of sweat slid down his temple. “I’ll get my hands on that fucking tight ass of yours and give you whatever you ask for. How does that sound?”

            A heavy breath suffocated Noah. His reaction prompted Oliver to laugh at how easily he got both of us in this state. 

            “Hold her head,” Oliver instructed Noah, displaying again that face that said ‘let’s get to work’.

            Not that Noah wouldn’t have done it. They were so considerate that they even worried about my hair breaking if it got stuck under our mess of limbs or pillows or whatever that was around. 

            Noah’s hands found the back of my head. He moved my hair to the said and positioned himself closer to me so that my head was nearly resting atop his thigh. I lifted a hand to reach for his cock and stroke it as Oliver kissed my chest and dipped lower until he reached my navel. He stopped. He used his thumb to trace a circle around it, and reverently, he kissed it and licked it, fondling that area of skin and cherishing it as if it was his favorite part of my body. 

            I found myself gradually descending into the depths of subspace, utterly captivated by Oliver’s every move, unable to tear my gaze away from the ministrations he was performing on the skin of my stomach.  

            One of Noah’s hands found the side of my face and gently caressed my cheek. 

            “Do you like it when he does that?” His deep voice was soft, tender.

            “Yes,” I managed to breathe out, my heart racing, my mind filled with cotton. 

            I couldn’t really describe the feeling. Noah was keeping me secured and comfortable against him while Oli pressed kisses on my lower tummy, which felt another level of intimate when they were placed on my navel. 

            “You love it when we’re all sweet and nice with you, don’t you?” Noah continued, trailing strands of hair behind my ear. 

            Oliver answered for me.

            “She loves it.” 

            I mirrored Oliver’s grin of satisfaction. 

            My boys. 

            “But you like us feral when we’re inside of you,” Noah’s voice dropped, and it didn’t matter that we were already naked and touching each other: a shiver ran down my spine. 

            “She’s so receptive to everything we do or say,” Oliver remarked, some sort of amazement in his voice. “She’s fucking perfect for us, man.” 

            And they were perfect for me.

            Oliver stepped back, standing up. He lifted my legs, while Noah extended his arms to reach for my ankles, spreading me open for Oliver. As Oli positioned himself at my entrance, he rubbed his cock between my folds, teasing me. Meanwhile, Noah was about to stretch back to retrieve a condom from the nightstand and pass it to Oliver when I shook my head. 

            “No,” I said. “I want to feel you. No barriers. Just your skin on mine.” 

            Oliver’s eyes turned a shade darker.

            “What did a motherfucker like me ever did to deserve you?” 

            “If you have to ask that question maybe I’m not doing a good job at showing you how thankful I am for your love and affection…” I teased. 

            Oliver clicked his tongue and bent down to kiss me hard and passionate.

            “Look at her,” he said then, directing his words to Noah. His voice tinged with desire. “So needy.”

            The observation wasn’t a tease; it was a simple acknowledgment of the truth. I was indeed needy, overwhelmed with ecstasy at the realization that this was my life, my men, and that we were all totally happy and satisfied with each other, in every aspect possible. 

            Noah took hold of one of my wrists, securing my arm against his thigh, allowing me to use the other to his pleasure.

            “She’s soaked, isn’t she?” 

            “A complete mess,” Oliver concluded, “which only makes… this… smoother,” he finished huskily as he slid his cock inside of me, one inch at a time. 

            The delicious stretch made me let out a moan from deep withing me and dig my nails into Noah’s thigh, seeking to anchor myself. I wriggled, trying to adjust to Oliver, yearning to feel him as deep as possible, to claim him as mine one more time. With a lift of my hips, I impaled myself on the last of his rigid length, gasping as he seared me with his heat. 

            Oliver eased back, teasing me with the almost withdrawal, each movement causing a fresh gasp to escape my lips, my moans growing louder with every thrust. Every nerve in my body tingled with awareness, every cell attuned to the rhythm of his movements as he pushed in and out. 

            “Faster, please.”

            “Yeah,” Oliver roared in response, his hands firm on my hips as he guided me to his desired pace. 

            My entire body responded to him, just as it did to Noah’s whenever he was inside of me, performing the same intimate dance.  

            “Your mouths are wonderful and all that, but man,” Oliver’s voice was strained, “there’s nothing like being inside of her.” 

            “I know. I know…” Noah moaned as I stroked his cock and attempted another long lick the best I could, given my strenuous position. 

            It took him less than a few moments to gather himself and tell me not to stress my neck, but Oliver’s intensified thrusts stole my breath, making me scream in ecstasy.  

            “That’s it, doll,” he encouraged, his hands urging my thighs open as they trembled under the force of his movements and the intensity of the sensations cursing through my entire being. “Get all tight on me.”

            Oliver looked breathtaking as he pounded into me, driving me closer to the edge. The colors of his tattoos appeared more vibrant, accentuated by the sweat covering his body. When I glanced up, I found Noah smiling at the sight, as if he cherished every moment of Oliver taking me to the brink. 

            His hand found my left breasts and squeezed. 

            “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re about to come,” his voice trailed off as his lips found my ear. “I never thought I would enjoy the sight of another man burying his dick deep inside of you, but seeing Oli fuck you does things to me.”

            “Noah,” I whimpered in response. 

            “Yeah, princess. I know exactly what you need.” His hand traveled up to my neck. When his fingers tightened around it just the right amount to give me a new type of high, I thought I could die right there right then. “Is he fucking you good, kitten? Talk to me, come on.” His grip eased just a bit, enough to allow me to answer. 

            “Yes. God, yes. It’s so good. Please, more. I want more. Everything.”

            “You’re like a fucking renaissance painting,” Oliver said amid his struggle to form words, his breath heavy with desire, his body covered glistening. “Both of you naked, disheveled, you in Noah’s arms, holding onto him, his hand around your neck… He’s fucking thrilled to see you coming undone while you’re drowning in the pleasure I give you.” 

            When Oliver slowed his movements to get one knee on the divan and leaned forward, —to pull Noah into a kiss— I whined for not being able to move and share that kiss with them. I was trapped underneath the cage of their bodies, but oh if this wasn’t a sight to behold. I felt blessed and completed. We were a mess of love and lust and passion, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. 

            “Take her for a ride,” Oliver offered Noah, pulling away from me. “I can’t stop looking at that pretty mouth and those swollen pink lips and I’m going to die if I don’t get my cock in her mouth in the next ten seconds.”

            In less than ten seconds indeed, Oliver maneuvered me onto my hands and knees on the divan. I wasn’t sure if my limbs would hold me, but I had no other choice. Noah stood behind me, bending to shower kisses on my shoulders, back, and butt, while Oliver circled to stand in front of me, his gaze just as hungry. As he indicated for me to open my mouth, I complied because I was, after all, a good girl. But first I had to trace his stomach with my tongue, licking every tattooed inch of his torso and savoring the electricity of his body. Only when I reached the beginning of his happy trail, I put him in my mouth. 

            The intensity in his eyes mirrored that of a predator, hungry and primal. 

            His weight on my tongue was deliciously overwhelming. 

            “The sight of you taking me like this always drives me insane,” Oliver confessed, his hands tangling in my hair. “But you know what tops it? Seeing Noah take you from behind.” 

            As if his words worked magic, Noah slid inside of me, his hands gripping my hips as he pressed against me. “Kitten…” he murmured, holding himself back. “Fuck. You’re damn sure you don’t want a condom on?” 

            I shook my head as best I could, for Oliver was occupying every corner of my mouth and cancelling my ability to speak. 

            “Look at him, baby,” Oliver took his cock out of my mouth so that I could look back over my shoulder. I couldn’t really maneuver as much as I would have liked to, but it was enough to see Noah’s contorted face of pleasure, his struggling smile filled with adoration and desire. 

            His thrusting started a second after, his movements becoming more fervent with very passing minute, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge of bliss.            

            “You should see his face, baby,” Oliver said to me, holding my chin, “the way he’s pulling his hair back because you’re taking him to the edge. I’m not sure what to do, man,” his last words were directed to Noah. “I’m torn between taking your place and finish her off, and taking you and making you scream until you can’t sing until your next life.”

            “Fuck, man. Shut up. I won’t last long,” was Noah’s reply. 

            As Oliver’s hoarse laughter reverberated in my ears and Noah’s powerful thrusts shook my entire body, I summoned the last reserves of my strength to reach out and grasp Oliver’s cock. With trembling fingers, I guided it back into my eager mouth. I sucked him off for a long minute, tracing with the tip of my tongue the thick veins protruding from his length, licking the top as if it was candy. 

            Noah’s next thrust was hard and bordering on pain, but pleasurable all the same. I let go of Oliver to scream, the sound ripping through my vocal cords. Noah’s hands found my hair and he gathered all the messy strands to pull me towards him, tilting my head back until I was left with no choice but to stare at Oliver with watery eyes, my chin up and my lips parted, the saliva dripping from the corner quickly wiped away by Oliver’s thumb. In that moment, I felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet exhilarated by the raw intensity of the experience.  

            “Fuck,” Noah groaned.

            “Yes,” Oliver roared in return, grabbing my face with a hand and pressing his fingers into my cheeks. “You look so beautiful on all fours, letting Noah fuck you hard and deep. You’re so, so good for us, doll. And we love you so fucking much, you know that, right? We fucking adore the good girl that you are.” 

            I was a wreck. There was nothing I could do. I was done for. My heart was going to explode and so was the rest of my body. 

            Despite my helplessness, a prideful smile played on my lips, and Oliver kissed me through it, his touch a blend of amusement, desire, and profound love. 

            “Noah, you should definitely see her like this. She can’t stop smiling while you fuck her. It doesn’t get any better than this. We’re some lucky bastards.”

            Noah’s response came amidst his relentless thrusts, his words spoken with conviction and tenderness. Leaning over me, he enveloped me in a hug, his warm breath against my ear, one of his hands sliding down to my clit. “You’re perfect for us, kitten, so take what we give you, yeah? We’re all yours. Everything we have to offer is for you.”

            I was surrounded by their love and desire. I felt truly cherished and consumed by ecstasy. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and my orgasm was going to swallow me whole. 

            The air was thick with the scent of our worked-out bodies. Our desperate and raw moans filling the room, echoing off the walls as every nerve in my body ignited, higher, harder. Each touch, each thrust, pushed me to the brink. Every tingling sensation escalating, every sensation in every inch of my body was constantly awakened and pushed to the edge of feeling. My entire body tingled, the electrifying sensation turning into ache that crazily enough kept me thrusting back against Noah in pleas for more as I welcomed Oliver’s hot and frenzied release inside of my mouth, driving me to arch my back and press into Noah’s body, yearning for his release, too. 

            I wanted it all. 

            In the end, I didn’t even need much more than Noah’s movements and Oliver’s words. Their tempo had been a tortuous dance that had promised to send me over the edge, and I was just

about

to

fall

right 

over

it.

            “Eyes on me,” Oliver commanded, grabbing my jaw again. “I want you looking at me when Noah makes you come.”

            “Come on, baby,” Noah urged. “It’s right there. Just right,” one more thrust, “there.”

            It was there, and I took it with screams and trembles until my head fell on the divan, my body unable to hold itself, my legs spasming as Noah’s growls filled my ears and his cum spilled over my buttcheeks and lower back.              

A day later — Early morning

Noah's laughter shook his body, causing a ripple effect that had me giggling and squirming against his chest, where I was lying diagonally with my hand extended towards Oliver.  

            Oliver was sleeping face down. He had drifted off after a morning session of lovemaking in which Noah had taken me while I slept in his arms and Oliver had taken him—a chain reaction that had us falling one after another like a line of dominoes.

            Noah and I hadn't been able to fall back asleep, and now we laid intertwined in each other’s nakedness while Oliver’s breathing drifted intermittently above our hushed voices. 

            Being in a playful mood, Noah and I decided to tease Oliver, making comments about how much he snored. Oliver responded with a muffled grunt into his pillow. 

            Later, I found myself idly toying with Oliver’s curls until he grunted again and shifted away from us, turning his head in the opposite direction. That’s when my eyes fell on his nipples, and that’s where I teased him next. 

            Oliver swatted my hand and opened one eye. “Stop,” he ordered. “Why don’t you annoy your other boyfriend? That’s why there’s two of us.”

            I hummed in disappointment and then sighed as I rested my head on Noah’s chest, still looking at Oliver’s sleeping face for a few moments. The softness of his features eased my spontaneous frustration, the comforting touch of Noah’s hand running through my hair also helping. 

            “Did you sleep well?” Noah asked with a soft voice, careful not to disturb Oliver too much. 

            “Hmm,” I murmured, nodding as I rubbed my head against his chest. Shifting, I turned to lift my head and look at him. “You?”

            “Yeah,” he replied, “except for the time I had to get up to pee and the damn doll kept staring at me until I disappeared into the bathroom.” His finger pointed towards the boxed Tiffany on top of one of the drawers in the room, likely placed there by Oliver on purpose. 

            “So, Oli didn’t get up to walk hand in hand with you, huh?” I teased. 

            “Does he really look like he would get up in the middle of the night to ease my fears? He’s totally passed out,” he remarked. 

            “Not really,” Oliver chimed in from his pillow. “Not anymore, anyway, but I’m knackered.” 

            “Knackered,” Noah repeated, a hint of confusion in his tone. My fingers played with his brown strands of hair. The haircut he wore these days was my favorite. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

            I giggled softly.

            “You should know by now, love,” Oliver added, still speaking with closed eyes, one hand resting beneath the pillow. 

            “Worn out, tired,” I whispered to Noah. Then, I leaned in to straddle him and planted a kiss on his jaw, feeling the stubble under my lips. He’d probably decide to shave today, and I couldn’t wait to watch him, maybe even Oliver, too, standing together in front of the bathroom mirror with blades in hand. There was something incredibly attractive about watching not just one, but two men shaving. 

            I sighed loudly, feeling like I was still in a dream. 

            My lips traced the curve of Noah’s jaw until I playfully nibbled on his earlobe. Sensing my playful vibes, he turned my face towards him and planted a gentle kiss on my lips, his eyes locking onto mine with intensity. 

            “You were fantastic yesterday morning.”

            His words made my cheeks flush. 

            “Thank you,” I replied, feeling a warm glow spread through me. 

            “You know…” he began, “I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” his tone turned somber as his fingers tucked strands of hair behind my ear. “During those months when we were just having fun and having sex every so often… I was terrified of what I was feeling every time I had you in my bed, in my arms, and I told myself I couldn’t afford to fall in love with you; that I was not good for you. By the time I decided I had to stop fucking you, I realized I had fallen in hard long ago,” he took a deep breath, his index finger tracing the line of my nose. “Now, I don’t regret a single minute I’ve spent with you, any of the steps that have brought us here. And I wouldn’t want things to be any other way. You, me, Oliver. Sex, love, arguments; the sun, and the rain. Everything. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything in the world.”

            His words melted my heart, and tears welled up in my eyes. 

            Before they could spill over, Oliver’s voice cut through our moment of tender honesty. 

            “You two are really cute, seriously.”  

            Noah relaxed with resignation, rolling his eyes. I slapped Oliver’s bare shoulder, but my body sought his with desperation when I saw his beautiful eyes shine under the morning light streaming in through the windows, accompanied by his radiant smile. 

            I had everything anyone could ever ask for. 

We left the warmth of the bed nearly an hour later, after a tickling match and some cuddling. 

            I took longer in the shower that morning, thoughts of the day ahead and memories of the previous day’s activities mingled with the steam around me. I pulled my hair up in a bun in front of the dresser, and with my bikini on and a well-worn t-shirt that I had long since taken ownership of (and could no longer remember if it had belonged to Oliver or Noah), I walked into the bright openness of the kitchen and went straight to make myself a cup of iced green tea. 

            Through one of the windows, I spotted Oliver and Noah playing outside with Luna. 

             After pulling a few ice cubes out of the freezer, Noah's loud laughter drifted into the house through the door and open windows. I caught sight of him doubled over with mirth, hands on his knees while Oliver, not far off, lay sprawled on the grass, laughing as Luna affectionately licked his face. 

            Witnessing their happiness never failed to reassure me that all was right in the world, in our world. The nights when Noah’s health was a concern seemed distant now, replaced by a sense of well-being and contentment. Any lingering doubts Oliver may have harbored about this relationship or his place within it had melted away. We were a team. We were bound to each other. They loved me, they loved each other, and I loved them. 

            An incoming call on Oliver's iPhone snapped me out of my trance, forcing me to draw my attention away from the window as I reached for the phone resting on the kitchen island. 

            Seeing Amelia’s name flashing on Oliver’s phone screen, the same real estate agent that had guided us through potential homes for our future together as a trio a few months ago, caught me off guard. Memories of our discussions about the charming two-story house in a serene Los Angeles neighborhood, close to the house Jack and his wife Sylvie had recently purchased after getting married, flooded back. Noah hadn't been very decisive about it; He had a preference for other neighborhoods. But the main problem was that the house I fell in love with was way out of our budget, so we had ruled it out. Then we decided to leave house hunting activities for another time, maybe after summer and after their crazy schedules turned less chaotic. 

            That’s why I didn't understand why Amelia was calling Oliver. 

            Nevertheless, I answered the call. Amelia’s warm greeting reminded me of our prior interactions. When I told her that Oliver couldn’t be put on at that time, she seemed pleased to speak with me instead. 

            She started talking about paperwork and payments, which left me baffled. 

            “As I indicated to Noah and Oliver, after receiving the missing paperwork and the main payment, we would have the keys available in a matter of a couple of weeks. So, I was calling to let you know that you can come by the office to pick up the keys to your new home at a time that works best for you.”

            What paperwork? What payment? 

            The keys to my new home?

            I had no clue what she was talking about. 

            “Our new home?”

            “Sure,” she didn’t catch my astonishment, how lost I was in this conversation. “The one with the spacious living room and with the garden in the back, in the cul-de-sac. I still remember your excitement when you saw that room upstairs and shared your plans of turning it into a library. That was a fantastic idea!”

            I blinked, frowning even harder, and looked through the window for Oliver and Noah.

            “The house Noah and Oliver revisited when you were working,” Amelia added.

            It couldn't be. 

            Amelia repeated my name a couple of times when I didn't say anything. 

            I shook my head. 

            “Yes, yes, I'm here. Sure,” I forced myself to say, because I didn't know what else to say. “Um, we're on vacation right now. I guess when we get back next week we can stop by and pick up the keys.” 

            “Perfect. We've sent a copy of the signed papers to both Oliver's and Noah's email. If you have any questions or need anything else, please don't hesitate to give us a call.”

            “No, of course. We will. Thank you.”

            My hand was trembling as I placed the phone back on the counter. My mind was racing with thoughts, grappling with the implications of Amelia’s words—the sudden reality of a house, our house, in Los Angeles, already paid for. 

            In that moment of disorientation, a fresh morning breeze made its way into the house, followed by Oliver’s radiant presence and the sound of his laugh. Noah wasn’t far behind. They were dressed in their swimming trunks and simple white t-shirts, exuding a carefree energy and carrying with themselves the scent of nature, their hair moving swiftly with the wind. 

            They appeared almost ethereal, like angels descending into the room.  

            The morning light filtered through the windows as Oliver stretched his arms towards me in greeting, his graceful features illuminated momentarily before dropping at the sight of my expression.

            “Hey. What’s with that face?”

            “Did something happen?” Noah asked, sensing something amiss, too. 

            “I’m not sure,” I replied. “I just got off the phone with… Amelia,” my gaze flicked towards Oliver’s iPhone resting on the counter. “She said that we can drop by her office anytime to pick up the keys of the house.”

            After a moment of silence, Noah cursed under his breath.

            “Shit.” 

            Oliver took another moment to reply, his shoulders sagging as he licked his lips and placed a hand on his hip while sharing a quick concerned, disappointed look with Noah. 

            “You were not supposed to find out about the house until we were all in Los Angeles,” he admitted. 

            I frowned because there were no plans of being the three of together in los Angeles any time soon. That’s why we had planned this trip to Cumbria as soon as our days off coincided. 

            “We don’t even know when that’s going to be,” I said.  

            Considering their packed schedules, this short vacation was the only opportunity for the three of us to be together before our commitments to work pulled us apart again and Noah and Oliver drowned themselves in work. I also had to return to my job. I wished I could be on holiday for longer, but unfortunately, the demands of everyday life kept me tied to my mundane job in L.A.

            “Yes, we do,” Oliver corrected. “I’m flying with you and Noah back to L.A. next week.” He allowed me a moment to take it all in. His words carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation that was contagious, but my confusion and disbelief at the recent revelation were bigger. “I have a month off, and I planned on spending it with you two so that we could go through the moving-in process together and get everything sorted before I have to come back here for work. We thought that a month would be time enough to work on whatever needs fixing in the house and maybe make some changes. Painting the walls, work on the garden, converting that room with the garden-facing windows into the studio you mentioned wanting, and…”

            “Wait. Wait, slow down,” I interjected, raising a hand and feeling a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me. “This is… I don’t understand.”

            “Why don’t we sit down?” Noah suggested. 

            Taking his cue, I sank into the soft cushions of the sofa, folding my legs beneath me. Oliver settled beside me while Noah remained standing, always unaware of the effect his long frame had on everybody else, especially on those who were sitting. But I could feel his nervous energy as he paced a little. However, despite both their worries, there was an undeniable spark of mischief crossing their expressions every other second. 

            “I thought you had work to do because you’re already over a year delayed on the release of Bring Me’s new album, and you,” I turned to Noah,” your schedule for next month is packed with photoshoots, interviews, and other meetings and stuff.”

            “Well, yeah,” Noah acknowledged, “but one more month isn’t going to hurt anybody, is it?”

            “I’m sure your fans will have something to say about it,” I chided them lightly. 

            “We all have personal matters to attend, so if things have to get postponed, they get postponed. Period,” he concluded. “This is more important.”

            This. Oliver, me, him. 

            “And it’ll be just a month, so that we can finally settle down,” Oliver added, his voice filled with determination and hope. 

            The phrase ‘settle down’ echoed in my mind, confirming that this was not a joke. I blinked repeatedly. 

            “So… Did you really— You bought a house?”

            “We bought you a house, yeah,” Noah confirmed with a smile, his brown beautiful eyes reflecting the depth of his affection. 

            A sarcastic laugh escaped my lips, disbelief mingling with gratitude. 

            “You don’t just buy a house like that. Especially not that house. It was way out of our budget and…”

            “We made some adjustment to the budget,” Oliver clarified, his tone firm yet gentle. He draped an arm on the back of the sofa, his fingers finding a lose lock of my hair. “You really loved that house when we visited it a few months ago, and we thought… after everything you’ve done for us…” 

            “What have I done for you?” I asked, feeling so utterly overwhelmed and undeserving of this. 

            “Doll, are you kidding?” Oliver said, a hint of offense creeping into his voice. “You have to start giving more credit to yourself or we’re going to have a problem here.”

            Ignoring his scold, and unable to shake off the sensations flooding me, I repeated, “You didn’t buy me a house.”

            “Okay, put it as you wish because technically, it’s our house now,” Noah said. “It’s for the three of us, so, if it sounds better to you, we bought us a house.”

            I had a knot in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. 

            “But I didn’t… I couldn’t… I can’t afford it,” I finally protested, my voice trailing off.

            “Who said you have to pay anything? This is a gift from us to you, because we love you and we want to have a place to call our own,” Oliver silenced my objections with a finger. “You threw a huge birthday party for me last November, Jurassic Park-themed,” he continued, a soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory. It had, in fact, required weeks of work to set everything up as I wished. Oliver was a fanatic of the Jurassic Park movies, and I thought it a great idea to celebrate his 38th birthday with dinosaur animatronics and a whole venue decorated as if it was a jungle. “And you were the one who managed to convince Nicholas and Jolly not to prepare anything for Noah’s birthday because he hates celebrating it. Instead, you took him to an escape room, then out for Mexican food, and finally to see the stars from Hollywood Hills because sometimes he’s soppy like that.” 

            Noah giggled at his comment, his eyes sparkling. The honesty and warmth of their words enveloped me, dispelling any doubts. 

            “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be going to bed alone,” Oliver continued, “thinking that I’m too much of a weirdo for someone to love me. And Noah would probably be locked in the studio, ignoring the growing headache in that big head of his.” 

            Noah responded to his comment by punching him in the shoulder, but Oliver’s response was to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, then gazing deeply into his eyes before turning his attention back to me. 

            “You love me despite all my bullshit,” Oliver said. “You’ve given me a reason to find the purpose that was missing in my life. You brought Noah into my life.”

            “You brought the three of us together, baby,” Noah added with a soft smile. 

            “We would be a train wreck without you, so the least we could do was to get you the house of your dreams,” Oliver concluded. 

            At this point, tears streamed down my face, my whimpers mixing with laughter of joy. The overwhelming love and appreciation that filled the room leaving me breathless with emotion. 

            “You also bought me that really expensive replica of Tiffany Valentine” I commented. “How much more money are you planning of spending on me?”

            “Our entire bank accounts if that’d make you happy,” Oliver answered, pursing his lips to show that that was the least of his concerns.

            “You know money is not what makes me happy,” I answered, shaking my head. “I just care about being with you, building a life out of moments like the ones we’re spending here.” 

            “Then, there’s no point for this talk,” he added. “We got a house. We’re moving into our new place next week.”

            “We’ll sleep in mattresses on the floor until you select the furniture you want for the bedroom. We’ll let you choose,” Noah announced.

            “Oh, my God.” Reality sank in. Noah crouched down in front of me to wipe the tears for my face. “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You bought a house. We have a house. This is nuts. It’ll take me a while to process it. I have to tell Jack; he’s going to be strangely happy about this. He’s going to give you both a pat on the back and finally be totally convinced that you love me for something more than just my pussy,” I joked 

            “Already did,” Oliver said. 

            I frowned, realization dawning on me. 

            “Don’t tell me Jack already knew about this.”  

            Both nodded, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to just wrap them both in my arms or throw a pillow to wipe the grins on their faces. They had this planned all along… 

            “You have to promise me something,” I said, turning serious.

            “You name it,” Noah said.       

            “What is it?” Oliver asked. 

            “You’re going to quit this bad habit of making decisions without me.”

            Even if I always benefit from those.

            “Oh, baby, but you love our bad habits.”

            And it had been far too long since I had willingly fallen down the abyss of those. 

Well, this is the end, but not the last time you'll be reading about them. I have a second bonus scene pending to post which I haven't finished yet. It takes place between BONUS SCENE I and THE EPILOGUE, and it focuses on the reader's brother's engagement party. There are some hints at what transpired during that evening in this epilogue, did you catch them? 🤭

And again, thank you so much to every single one of you that took the time to read this, reblog, and comment. It's been a wild ride.

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[domesantis]

Lotor and Keith: The Duo We Deserved

Disclaimer: it's been around 8 months since I've last watched voltron. details may be inaccurate

Sometimes I think we were robbed of what could've been an amazing friendship.

Keith's discovery of his Galran lineage and Lotor's of his Altean heritage, and their indirect parallel of upbringing, I hoped these two would form an amazing bond as they're the only people that could relate to each other in terms of ostracization due to their race. But that hope eventually dwindled down when I realized that the showrunners were definitely not planning that, and in fact, even makes Lotor a bad guy again.

At the very least, I had hoped for a heart-to-heart conversation about them being mixed race and flesh out that aspect of them more. Yet again, I was let down.

During Keith's entire life, he has been ostracized by his peers and constantly bullied for being different. It has been the fundamental characteristic of him— his preordained Galran traits— embedded into every crevice of his disposition and being unable to do anything about it. When he finds out about his Galran heritage, we finally conclude the reason, in profound realization, why he's never fit in much back in Earth. Ultimately, this would give clarity and closure to Keith about why he's the way he is, but what the showrunners overlooked is the inevitable, imminent consequence of an identity crisis.

He's too galra to be human (antisocial, rebellious, fierce and stubborn), but too human to be galra. (compassionate, warm, weaker and smaller in stature, humanly physical features)

This is his reality everyday.

I distinctly remember Sendak belittling Krolia because of her half-breed son, Keith. It went something along the lines of: "Is the Blade of Marmora so low on soldiers that they recruit a half-breed and his mommy in?" Which, most likely, amplified his identity crisis. Poor guy.

I feel as though the same case could be applied to Lotor.

Raised by only Galrans and raised to be one, his father, Zarkon, would also say that something was quite fundamentally different about him. Compared to a stereotypical, standard Galra, he seemed to be quite more compassionate and carefree as a child, showing great intellect and promise in other aspects yet lacking in the personality traits as a Galra and embracing more of his Altean characteristics.

Growing up, Lotor always believed in goodwill, altruism, and attempted to prove to Zarkon that he could successfully subjugate planets by sheer goodwill without repercussions. However, his father's constant abuse for millennia, and cruelly destroying said planet, would of course, send him to spirals and awaken his long repressed Galran characteristics: Tyrannous, vindictive, cruel and spiteful.

Both Keith and Lotor had been abandoned by their biological parents, one in a literal way, and the other, emotionally. Both of them had something just fundamentally, unutterably different about them that they couldn't quite explain, thus thwarting the standards of "what they should be".

If Keith and Lotor had formed a genuine, wholesome familial friendship to replace their absent/abusive parents, they could've established an actual safe space where they felt belonged and heard. The rest of the team may also provide an emotional connection towards them, however, nobody knows their pain more than each other. After all, they both went through similar experiences. Mixed race solidarity!

Also. I think it could've been a great way to represent mixed race people (I'm sorry. Is that how you call them? Is this offensive?). I'm not one myself, so I'm not sure, but this would've been so great to promote inclusivity and accurately represent their struggles in the actual world. This also could've been an amazing plot point for Lotor's character development and fleshing out his character more onto a much more profound and raw level. Instead, they threw it all down the drain by betraying VOLTRON then dying. Disappointed.

Also, I'll be diving deeper into Keith's identity crisis more in one of my next posts, and Lotor's tragic fate.

Get me out of this VOLTRON hellhole. The hyperfixation is too much.

[seasidepierre]

sunkissed face - charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

summary: A special one, for a special weekend.

warnings: I'm not sure when I'll be back, but enjoy this one while it's out.

words count: 1k

a/n: You know I couldn't not write something. It took me thirty minutes, I did not reread myself, you're getting first draft, spur of the moment, here. I promise I'm not dead. Thank you for loving Sunkissed so much and for being the sweetest readers ever. Love you tons. Daghe Charles 🤍

The waves kept licking your toes, your sundress pooling around your thighs. The Monaco harbour was finally calm, the sea tame and the sun reflecting golden speckles on the horizon. The streets had been busy, busier than usual, but you found yourself in one of the rare corners of the principality where you’d be left alone, in a quiet bubble, where no one would bother you.

The week of the Monaco Grand Prix was always special. It was always a mix of a frenzy, crazy times that you never quite were able to deal with, but also a mix of warm sunsets, comfortable bed sheets and piano sessions to wake up to in the mornings. It was also the week of pains au chocolat in bed, of fresh and cold fruit juice in tall glasses, of wandering fingertips on your thighs and soft kisses in your lover’s neck.

The Monaco Grand Prix was always your anniversary weekend, too. Three years ago, you left your friends on a boat to sneak into a Ferrari event. Three years ago, you met Charles, who took you for a tour of the principality in his beloved Ferrari, then for a swim on his Riva boat. Three years ago, you sat on this same pier, listening to the cars drive in the background while Charles grieved the possibilities of a home win after a treacherous pole position secured by a crash into a barrier. Three years ago, you met the man you’d share your life with, dressed all in red and sunshine, a warm man who turned your world upside down with soft words whispered in your ears, with arms wrapped around your stomach and with tender kisses on your cheeks.

Three years ago, you dried tears of sadness for a man you barely knew.

Today, you dried tears of pride and happiness for the love of your life.

Charles was laying on the pier, his race suit still wet and clinging on his thighs. His hair was finally dry, curling in the most adorable little curls at the end, that you kept playing with absentmindedly, tangling your fingers in sea salt waves of brown strands, drowning yourself in the green eyes and dimples you loved so much.

Charles was finally relaxed of that remaining constant tension in his shoulder, he had finally achieved the ultimate dream of his and his father’s. He had won that Monaco Grand Prix that meant so much to him, after years of sadness, disappointment and doubts. You had gone through four races here, now, not one leaving you relieved about the outcomes. But this weekend, Charles had mastered everything he needed to have done, everything had finally clicked into place and with the complete support of his team, something you had pleasantly welcomed in your lives a few years ago, he had finally turned the dream into reality.

A few hours ago, he had jumped into the harbour with his team principal, yells of happiness and pride mixing with the sea salt water and the tears. You had waited your turn, letting him enjoy that win on his side, first with his team, then with his family. You’d lived a few wins with the Leclerc family already, but none that left everyone crying so much. You knew what it meant for them all, so you took a step back and left them to celebrate this one between themselves. Charles hadn’t said much after the podium and all the press duties. He had been relieved from the race debrief, there would be time to do that later, so you had patiently waited for your man to be free and ready to celebrate this one out with you.

So many of his friends were waiting for him at a club. So many of his peers were waiting to party and congratulate him. So many people in Monaco waiting for the prince of the day, the one who’d made everyone cry.

And still, Charles was laying on the pier, his head rested on your thighs, his breathing calm and relaxed, his eyes closed and his nose taking the faintest pink hues, a result of the sunkiss effect that drew you in the first time you’d seen him.

“Everybody is waiting for you, Charlie,” you whispered. “Let them wait. I’m good here,” he whispered back. “I don’t need to go to the club. I just need to lie here. I just need you.”

You smile at the horizon, knowing perfectly well that he would get jitters in a few hours, that he’d drag you to a club and that you’d end up driving his car because he’d be too hammered to drive himself. But for now, for an hour or two, you’d selfishly enjoy this one with your man.

His gold trophy was next to you, the medal hung on the little hairpin representation of the track. His cap, ruined by the water, completed the triptych of a magical afternoon, spent in the streets you fell in love with, just as you fell in love with the man lying at your side.

“Congratulations, my love,” you softly exhaled. “You deserved that one so much.” “Thank you,” he smiled a little. “I love you.” “I love you too,” you grinned.

The streets were finally calmer, after they’d exulted in celebrations. The harbour was finally quiet. The sun was starting to dip behind the horizon line. Your sundress was finally dry after you’d taken Charles’ hand and jumped in the water, taking your time to float in the sea and to kiss the winner under the heat of a May sun. Your hair was curling just like your boyfriend’s. You’d go back to your place, get rid of your clothes, slide in the shower together and God knows what you’d do in there. You’d party tonight, put him to bed when he’d irrevocably end up drunk and you’d make sweet love in your bed tomorrow morning, when the quiet and calm would be back to your lives.

Your Sunkissed boy had made it. You couldn’t be more in love with him.

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[spacemilkies]

fractured confections, bittersweet absence (1/?)

pairing: Earth—42!Miles Morales x Spider!Reader wc: 3k+ rating: teen a/n: don't look at me. i'm just writing as it comes to me. we'll see there all these different fic ideas take me. for this in particular, i have everything up to the movie start outlined. i took a few liberties with the timeline. i just have to push myself to write it :(

synopsis: Miguel relies on you to discover a potential anomaly  and somehow you become it

Or the one where world 42 never had a Spider-Man but then they do

In a world where alternative universes were nothing more than clichés confined to the pages of fantasy novels, your concerns as a teenager barely in your teens extended far beyond such fantastical notions. The recent addition of supernatural abilities, acquired through a fateful encounter with a dubious arachne during a field trip at a lab conglomerate, had consumed your thoughts. However, all of these preoccupations suddenly lost their significance as the very fabric of your existence crumbled before your eyes.

Echoes of terror-laden screams still reverberated in your mind, mingling with the chaotic symphony of pedestrian and automotive traffic desperately attempting to outrun an impending fate. In the midst of the pandemonium, you struggled to harness your newfound abilities, desperately weaving through the fragmented bodies of disrupted individuals, ephemeral apparitions on the brink of annihilation.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, one memory remained etched in your consciousness with unwavering clarity. It was the image of your best friend's father, seizing you mid-swing, his shattered gaze suddenly focused with newfound purpose. Together, you both tumbled headlong into a blinding burst of radiant light, a tumultuous journey to an uncertain destination.

As you gazed down at the device that had never left your wrist since that pivotal day nearly a year ago, your contemplations shifted from the intricacies of alternate realities to a more fundamental question—what would become of your existence without a tangible world to call your own?

Miguel, whom you swiftly discerned to be a distinct entity from the Mr. O'Hara who once chauffeured you and his daughter to softball practice every Thursday evening, had failed to provide a concrete understanding of the complexity surrounding your being. The only undeniable truth was that as long as the watch remained securely fastened to your wrist, you would be spared the agonizing disintegration that awaited Earth-702, the last vestige of a fading existence.

Earth-702.

The only life you had known reduced to a number.

This enigmatic state of being mirrored the ambiguity that plagued your emotions—a blend of forgiveness and gratitude, still unquantified and unresolved. How could you appreciate and resent the man who had saved you, yet inadvertently led to the destruction of everything you once knew?

For now, you exist as an anomaly entrusted with the task of investigating other anomalies, akin to yourself. A spider-being devoid of a world to safeguard was destined to remain just that—a solitary guardian without a realm to protect.

As you attempted to open the door, your progress came to a halt as LYLA materialized before you. In this constant state of existence, where alternate spider beings surrounded you, the presence of an artificial intelligence like LYLA was a welcome divergence from the norm. If you could practically call it that.

"You just missed Miguel," LYLA chimed, breaking the silence.

A tinge of disappointment washed over you. Miguel was supposed to provide you with an assignment today, and you had eagerly anticipated the opportunity.

“How convenient of him.”

The vague shrug from LYLA hinted at the lack of intention behind the promise from the beginning. With a restrained sigh, you pressed forward, traversing the brief hallway that led to Miguel's office—a space that also doubled as your own.

In the spider-verse association, you held the esteemed position of being its first official member. In simpler terms, you possessed the most comprehensive understanding of the intricate web of activities that kept the organization afloat. You were present when the second spider-being entered the headquarters, and you witnessed firsthand as the building teemed with more individuals from myriad Earths than you could have ever imagined.

With the proliferation of these spider-beings, it became increasingly challenging to distribute the workload. Each spider-being had their own set of responsibilities, both in their home realms and in dealing with one another. Amidst this sea of spider-beings, you were supposed to shine—a silent guardian with untapped potential.

Instead, you found yourself assigned to a desk, monitoring the overall progress of the operation. Miguel preferred to dress it up as a trusted role, acknowledging that not everyone possessed the capacity to grapple with the harsh realities at hand. It was amusing how he believed a teenager trapped within their formative years could shoulder the weight of these adult concerns.

Nonetheless, as an anomaly yourself, you held the title of subject expert in identifying and executing operations to resolve other unfortunate anomalies. Recently, you had grown restless and began to pester Miguel for more opportunities to explore other Earths. It wasn't to say that you hadn't ventured into different realms before. In the beginning, Miguel had no choice but to rely on your abilities in every capacity. However, a persistent fear loomed over both of you—the potential consequences if your device were to be disrupted for even a fleeting moment.

Indeed, that fear coursed through your veins, but you refused to allow it to dictate your life. That was precisely why you had all but demanded to be sent on the next assignment—an insistence that Miguel had skillfully evaded, leaving you feeling slightly defeated.

As you slumped into your seat, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. "What Earth is he even on?" you muttered, the weight of annoyance settling upon you. Almost as if in response to your presence, the displays surrounding your desk hummed to life, illuminating the space with a soft glow.

LYLA materialized by your side, her voice offering a prompt update. "Villain captured on Earth-343. They should be wrapping up soon."

The task at hand hardly posed a challenge beyond your capabilities. There were younger spider-beings grappling with far more daunting situations. You ceased dwelling on what your life would have been like as the Spider-Man of your Earth. You had been too young to even envision your future, let alone prepare for the colossal role thrust upon you in the wake of your transformation.

Amidst your operations, you had heard murmurs of other heroes around your age. 

Gwen Stacy from Earth-65.

 Pavitr Prabhakar from Earth-50101.

And Margo Kess from 22191. 

Their presence evoked a feeling in your chest that you wouldn't readily label as jealousy, but rather a simmering ember that burned hotter than mere contentment.

Occasionally, you engaged in conversations with them, often through the watch devices that connected your disparate realities, providing updates and exchanging information. But there were rare instances when you met face to face. Miguel had often categorized you and Gwen as the "troublesome" stage in your teenage years, a time when you grappled with the complexities of your individual realities. And while he wasn't entirely mistaken, the weight of those challenges felt more pressing in your lives.

Gwen, unlike some of her counterparts, preferred the sanctuary of the headquarters over returning to her home Earth. She seemed perpetually ready for missions, always on the edge of her seat. Upon meeting her, she shared the details of her eventful exposure to the multiverse, beginning with the collision event on Earth-1610B. She had crossed paths with that other Spider-Man... what was his name?

Rising from your slouched position, your fingers danced across the keys, retrieving the name from the recesses of your memory. You settled back into your seat, watching as the screen filled with the image of Miles Morales. 

He was certainly... something.

Admittedly clumsy at times, yet he possessed a reasonable level of control over his abilities. Enough, at least, to keep him off Miguel's list of reprimands. Out of curiosity, you toggled his biometrics, allowing the spider DNA coursing through his veins to reveal his Earth designation. But it was within the uniqueness of his profile that you discovered a divergence—his DNA did not match the status of his home Earth.

Earth-42.

You have come across reports mentioning it. According to Miguel, without a Spider-Man to inhabit it, there were no canonical events to monitor. From an operational standpoint, he was correct. However, as you pondered the situation now, you couldn't help but wonder what a world without a Spider-Man truly looked like.

With a few keystrokes, you accessed the live feed, ready to uncover the truth of that reality for yourself.

What you saw, ripped away the lingering shred of sense you had in that moment.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

"This is a very bad idea," the voice persisted, echoing through your wrist. However, your dimension device possessed its own isolated network, impervious to interference or removal without Miguel's biometrics. It was a safety measure designed to keep out unwanted disruptions, but it inadvertently granted you a sense of freedom.

Clinging to the shadows, you effortlessly scaled the side of a building, preparing yourself for the leap to the next rooftop. The act of calculating the jump served as a convenient distraction from the persistent voice reverberating from your wrist.

"Like a very bad idea. Miguel is not going to be happy," LYLA warned, its concern palpable.

You let out a snort that held no trace of humor, grunting upon landing and quickly scrambling up the higher section of the architecture. "When is he ever happy?" you muttered. Miguel seemed to perpetually wear a mask of displeasure, never quite content.

Your response sparked yet another stream of concern from LYLA, but at this point, you had effectively tuned her out. The image feed from Earth-42, displayed on your device, paled in comparison to the chaotic reality that enveloped the city. From open flames licking at structures to blaring sirens piercing the air, there was not a single sign of peace to be found.

From your vantage point, you had always recognized the significance of a spider-hero. Yet, in the absence of one, you had simply assumed that matters would resolve themselves. After all, society was an ever-adapting complexity that spanned countless universes. Surely, there were individuals capable of managing the daily operations without the presence of a superbeing.

As you swung through the air, your mind wandered, delving into the intricacies of divergent paths taken by each reality. You contemplated the weight of the missing Spider-Man in Earth-42 and what it meant for the inhabitants of this dimension.

Lost in contemplation, you find yourself perched upon a lofty rooftop, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The bustling metropolis pulsates with life, its energy reverberating through the very fabric of existence. Yet, amidst the towering structures and bustling streets, your attention is drawn to a nearby building adorned with a larger-than-life mural.

The mural, a masterpiece in its own right, pays homage to a fallen police officer—an embodiment of courage, sacrifice, and unwavering dedication. It is a work of art that transcends the limitations of paint and brush, capturing the essence of the hero's spirit. Vibrant hues dance across the surface, blending seamlessly to form intricate details that breathe life into the mural. Each brushstroke tells a story, whispering of the hero's indomitable spirit and the impact he had on those he protected.

As your eyes wander over the mural, a bittersweet mix of emotions washes over you. You are intimately familiar with the displaced canon event depicted within the artwork, having witnessed its replay countless times. However, the absence of the defining factor—the presence of a Spider-Man—leaves a void, an inexplicable emptiness that permeates the scene. It raises profound questions about the nature of fate and the purpose of heroes. Who, or what, would subject people to a twisted reality without the counterbalance of justice and redemption?

But even in the absence of a Spider-Man, you know that humanity possesses an innate resilience. It is a resilience that gives rise to captains of justice, individuals willing to step forward and fill the void, even at the cost of their own lives. The mural becomes a symbol of that resilience, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human heart.

Lost in your thoughts, a faint sound interrupts the silence, drawing your attention downward. The scuffling of feet resonates against the pavement, and your senses come alive, attuned to the presence nearby. Your head swivels, and your gaze lands upon the source of the sound.

Beneath the grand mural, the atmosphere hangs heavy with a mix of sadness and reverence. The vibrant colors seem to cast a somber aura, amplifying the weight of the fallen hero's sacrifice. It is there, in the fading sunlight, that you spot a solitary figure—a teenager whose face bears a defiant expression, despite the trails of tears glistening in the soft, golden rays. There is an air of vulnerability about him, and his presence captivates your attention.

With nimble and cautious steps, you descend the side of the building, blending seamlessly into the shadows. Your spider-like agility allows you to approach unnoticed, maintaining a respectful distance. The teen remains oblivious to your presence, engrossed in his own world of emotions.

In the pool of fading sunlight, his tear-stained face reflects a myriad of conflicting emotions. It speaks of loss and grief, yet his expression hints at determination and resilience. You are drawn to his vulnerability, unable to resist the urge to understand his connection to the fallen hero immortalized on the mural. It is evident that the departed officer held a special place in the hearts of many, leaving behind an irreplaceable void in the lives of those he protected.

As you observe the teenager's reaction, a sudden crash and the shattering of glass reverberate through the air, snapping your focus away from the impending danger nearby. The symphony of chaos begins to unravel, growing louder with each passing second. Instinctively, your senses heighten, urging you to intervene and prevent the imminent turmoil. Yet, you understand the delicate balance of interfering in the affairs of other realities, knowing that it may have unforeseen consequences.

Choosing to prioritize the safety of the vulnerable individual, you turn your attention toward him, hoping to offer guidance and solace. It is a decision that carries its own weight, for the unknown intricacies of interdimensional travel have taught you that nothing is ever certain or predictable. With a calm yet concerned voice, you address him, your words laced with empathy and caution.

"Hey, it's dangerous for you to be out here," you gently express, aware of the unexpectedness of your presence. However, before you can fully comprehend the impact of your presence, the teen’s demeanor shifts into something decidedly defensive—an oddly quick but reasonable response, given his environment. In that moment, you realize the jarring sight you must present—a being that embodies the traits of both human and spider, suspended in an upside-down stance before him.

As the boy's awe and curiosity leak through his initial defiance, you notice the hard lines of determination softening under the weight of change. There is a sense of similarity there, lost teenage years consumed by destruction.

His bewildered voice breaks the silence. Despite the perplexment, its gruffness cannot mask his genuine curiosity. "What are you?"

A playful smirk dances across your face, defying the gravity of the situation. The opportunity slips from your lips before you can fully understand the weight of your words.

"I am your friendly neighborhood spider," you reply, the words dripping with both sincerity and light-heartedness. Those wide, capable eyes, tinted with distrust, rove over the intricate design of your costume, searching for answers in the fabric that binds you.

His response is swift, his youthful candor cutting through the tension. "That's a dumb superhero name," he remarks, not comprehending the magnitude of the reality he has stumbled upon. You merely shrug, understanding that you are not the Spider-Man he knows, nor are you bound by the conventions of his familiar world. Here, in this fractured reality on the brink of collapse, your mission transcends trivial matters such as superhero aliases.

"Well, stupid or not, I can't leave you hear," you declare with resolute determination. Before he can fully grasp the gravity of your words, you swiftly encase him in a web cocoon, launching him skyward along the building's side. He puts up a surprisingly capable fight, thin braids swinging to and fro within his captivity.

"Aye, loco! Lemme me go!" he protests, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

 Huh, Spanish. Miguel would be proud.

 Together, you ascend to the pinnacle, where the world seems both smaller and more expansive all at once.

From this vantage point, a distant commotion clamors through the night, a discordant symphony of chaos that taints the air with unease. You can sense the imminent danger lurking down the dimly lit streets, threatening the fragile remnants of this crumbling reality. 

The boy's now angered gaze fixated upon you, “I can take care of myself.”

You resist the strong urge to volley him, if only to jerk the too-adult pinch from his brow with the promise of fear and your strength. Instead, you guide him to to an adjacent block away from the disruption and drop him to his feet carefully, save for a brief stumble.

The pointed glare focused on you is not the impression you would have imagined from a rescued individual, but you were new to this so maybe not all went to script.

You were feeling a little less confident as you approached.

"I'm going to release you now."

The teen only jerked his chin in response.

Hooking a finger under the webbing, you use the trick Miguel taught you to loosen the bindings. The warning came a split second after he worked an arm free, giving you a brief opportunity to pull out of reach as he swung back.

He was definitely a product of his environment, whether for the good or better was not disclosed. 

There was a notable fire in his gaze as he challenged you.

“Next time, keep your freaky abilities to yourself. I don’t need no hero.”

Suspending yourself from the light fixture above, you test your impact on the Earth a length more. You think about all the other Earth’s whose spider-beings who press forward despite the backlash, determined to save what they hold dear. 

They might say those words, deflect the help offered to say they didn't need a hero because they were one.

But this teen didn’t give you that impression. His presence vaguely tipped the compass in a different direction.

“Maybe not, but you’re only one person.”

Scoffing, the teen ripped away the rest of the webbing. “No hero has a place here. Everyone agrees on that.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns his heel at that as he descends down the street away from you. 

Earth 42 was indeed a reality without a spider-being. 

But what proliferated in its absence, was something you felt, would test the universe in its own way. 

[maeby-cursed]

SOMETIMES I'M NOT MYSELF, I LOOK FOR A BETTER DISGUISE…

𓂃 DANCING TILL THE POWER GOES OUT.

a/n: following with my songfic series, this one is inspired by valiente by vetusta morla (the original lyrics are "a veces no soy yo, busco un disfraz mejor / bailando hasta el apagón") ! this is also an angst fic but the vibe in this one is a bit more pungent. i apologize for making toji like this, i will get back to my soft!toji program soon ♡ (this one is vv weird, btw, and i wrote it while suffering from a headache, enjoy)

✧ synopsis: you met toji seven months ago and since then, the only thing you've both agreed on is how much you cannot stand each other. now it's time to go; even if it means giving up trying, and leaving a familiar warmth behind.

✧ pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

✧ wc: 1.6k

✧ rating: angst ! pure angst, discounted and at a good price ! angst and pain; two for the price of one ! of the richest quality and endless suffering !!

✧ cw: toxic relationship, toji suffers from toxic masculinity, a bit of an age gap (toji is early 30s, reader is implied to be early 20s), mentions of toji's shitty ass economy, heavy cursing.

There’s a storm inside your house and it is made of cries locked within the walls of your lover’s apartment.

You and Toji have been arguing for six months out of the seven you’ve known him.

Apparently, May flowers brought November showers (or better said, downpours), as well as a thick darkness, because since last week, Toji's entire street has been without light, water or electricity. 

A desert in the middle of a flood, seems almost biblical.

Both of you are in the kitchen – distressingly narrow and painted in a gloom shade of indigo –, in the midst of your fifth discussion this week. The fridge door is open while you talk, but neither of you cares, all of its contents are already wasted, anyways. The light doesn’t even flicker.

You don't know exactly how this particular fight started.

Toji had arrived at his apartment – his, exclusively – late, with a bag of fast food in hand. An individual order. When he’d arrived, he’d looked at you and asked you what you were doing there, and everything had gotten out of hand from that point on.

After six months of waiting for him in the same place, in the same position, in the same corner of his grimy sofa, you'd thought he might remember you, might remember that you are a constant in his life.

Not the case.

The fight escalates to such an extent that you find yourself shouting and gesticulating aggressively.

What starts badly ends worse, your grandmother used to say.

(And yet, it ends).

So now you stand barefoot, in your white slip, looking at him with all the fire you can fan into your eyes. 

"I have no fucking idea what is it that you want, Toji Fushiguro, but you need to stop looking for it in me. Either take me as I am or leave me, it's as simple as that."

He looks back at you, his gaze shallow. He always stares at you like this, as if instead of seeing you, he were trying to evaluate you; like you’re nothing but a mere statue to him and he’s looking for a spot where the artist could’ve slipped his chisel. 

But you don’t cower before him. Although his height seemed imposing when you first met him, he now seems ridiculous to you. A child hidden behind a brick wall.

"Could you stop talking in code for two fucking minutes?"

"I want you to stop treating me like shit. You caught on now?"

He laughs unfunnily.

"I think I treat you pretty well, girl."

"Really?" you smile. There's a part of you that cringes at the gesture; he's been souring you since you met. Now you're fed up, but you know you'll never be able to return all of the blows he’s knocked you out with. "You think coming home and taking me to your bedroom for five minutes of grunts and sweat is treating me well?"

"Our bedroom."

That does make you laugh.

"Fuck, Toji, I don't live here! You never asked me to move in with you. And I've waited for you but I'm..... I don't even know what I am. Disappointed, maybe?" Your mood begins to shift as you search for him with your stare. You want to see some sort of reaction, something that isn’t a performance, something that doesn’t act as a mirror. 

Something that tells you he cares about you.

"I thought I was dating an adult,” you continue, softly now. “That we could talk about it but... God, you're exactly like all the men I've been trying to avoid. All savages, the lot of you; too barbaric to be able to say you feel anything, even if it’s pure lust."

He raises a brow, closing the refrigerator door with a slam and leaning against the countertop with a click of his tongue.

"You want me to tell you that you make me horny?" he asks, with an ironic smirk.

"I want you to tell me that there's something that goes with the sex. Something that can last."

He doesn't say anything, just exhales loudly, huffing with annoyance.

And for some reason, the gesture takes you back two decades ago, when your father used to do that to you. A puff of air like cigarette smoke whenever you wanted something he didn't feel like giving you; mostly his time.

You don't know where the memory comes from, but it hurts. It burns and coats your throat with bile.

"There’s nothing," he whispers, at last. 

Now you really have to make an effort not to vomit.

Silly girl, you say to yourself, you already knew that. But it's no use.

"And I had to dig that out of you with a spoon, baby," you tell him, dripping with sarcasm.

He doesn't notice how you pale, how you grab the skirt of your dress and bite the inside of your cheek. He doesn't smell your despair, nor the copper drops emanating from the wound you've caused yourself by biting on your skin.

Toji's not a bloodhound, no matter how much he resembles one. He's just an asshole.

Your words make him frown and stick out his jaw. You recognize his hint – you’d recognize him by taste alone –, it's the gesture he makes before he fights.

"And what the fuck did you expect? For me to telepathically figure out whatever shit you’re thinking?"

"No, Toji. I just wanted an answer." That’s it, you suppose.

You sigh, unclenching your fists without relaxing your shoulders, and head for the bedroom. Except for your cell phone and a pair of nightgowns, you have almost nothing here. Let him keep the panties, if he gave them back to you, you'd burn them anyway. 

He follows when you pass him by on your way out of the kitchen, and, for once, he looks incredulous.

"What? You think we’re done chatting?"

"I don't even feel like looking at that asshole face of yours anymore."

Every word that comes out of your mouth stabs him in the spleen. He's never seen you like this.

You have nothing left to care for, nothing left to protect from the storm, nothing to hope and pray to see bloom. Your land is infertile and all you feel is frustration, so there's no more measuring yourself.

To hell with all this.

"Yesterday it was all about cuddling and today you're leaving,” he says. “What did you expect?" At that, he smiles with malice, one that, unfortunately, is not unfamiliar to you. "That we were going to fall madly in love? That this was about more than sex? Oh, but you're just a little girl. I've been with a hundred of the likes of you."

He's lying. You know he's lying. 

This man has never loved a woman in his life – you pity his mother – but he's not a manwhore either. He wears things out until he’s outgrown them.

It's funny — he’s always looked too big on you.

Your head turns around, but you stay frozen where you are, kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his nightstand. On your knees, you almost look like you're praying, but your eyes condemn a truth that hurts him. It burns and coats his throat with bile.

"I never expected you to fall in love with me, Toji. I'm not that stupid," you look at the drawer again, taking clothes and shoving them carelessly into your bag. "I'm just young."

“I may be young, but give me time.” Those words, the ones you told him when he met you, a little over half a year ago, ring in his ears. “I can take a hundred men like you.”'

He remembers them now, gall climbing up to his uvula. Your smile back then clashes with your current tears. You have aged seven years in seven months.

He can see it in your posture, in the expensive fabric of your dress and the way you tie your hair back. He can see it in the depth of your cupid's bow, in the care with which you hold your hands.

You know how to handle dynamite now, but you can't stop gunpowder from blowing up.

Toji is speechless. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's already worn you out, you've already woken up from your reverie. He hasn’t outgrown you yet.

When you get up, your cheeks are covered with tears. You wipe them away carefully; you would’ve never done that back when he met you.

You were free then; of wild smiles and clumsy hands, of loud cries and smell of freesias. Young with bravado, a shell of the sea.

Seeing you like this, knowing you're going away, turns his stomach. This is the last time, and you don't smell like freesia anymore. You're all orange and lavender, unmistakable and silent.

Toji raises a hand and brings it up to you. For a split second of madness you think he's going to slap you, but he simply catches a strand of your hair; only instead of tucking it behind your ear, he lets it curl around your cheek.

His hand falls to his side – he wasn't raised to be like this. He wasn’t raised to get you to stay.

"Get out," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice low and plangent.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to find his image behind your eyelids; smiling and defiant, with a glass of champagne in his hand and kohl-stained eyes.

The tide inside washes away everything else.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

What starts badly ends worse, you think. 

(And yet, it ends).

© 2023, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

[when-november-ends]

witchcraft things

that didn't work for me

and why

- kitchen witchcraft

i love cooking and i love working with plants, however incorporating spells into my food didn't work for me. i got way too distracted by the spell part, that i completely forgot to make the food taste good. and as much as i love magic, it took the fun out of cooking for me. because now, cooking wasn't something fun where i could experiment with flavors and textures, it was something i had to put thought into beforehand. and i like to be spontaneous with my cooking.

- protection spells

protection spells seem to be the most important part of the witchcraft community. and i do think it's important to know how protection magic works, but it's also very unnecessary to have protections up 24/7 if you're not famous or have many enemies. i tend to forget about my protection spells, so they just sit on my altar, untouched for months and i forget to make new ones. hasn't hurt me so far tho, so i'll be saving those up for when and if i actually need them.

- casting a circle

not gonna lie, i tried that once and never again. it felt so pretentious to me.. like i was in Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. and not in a good way. i stumbled across that practice on witchtok first, that was when i thought i was wrong for practicing my way and not how other people said i should. i don't think casting a circle is a bad thing to do, but it absolutely is a bad thing to do for me.

- bowl spells

bowl spells are one of my favorite kinds of spells because they're interactive. you put things in, you take things out. the energy doesn't feel stagnant and the spell is always working it's magic as long as you interact with it. ....but unfortunately my adhd made it very clear to me that those kinds of spells aren't something that works for me. i forget about them 5 minutes after i made them and they never get interacted with, so they don't do much of what they're supposed to. i would definitely recommend them to people who remember to take out and put in stuff tho, because the concept is great.

- scrying

gods, did i want that to work. divination is my favorite kind of witchcraft and i'm great at it! so when i learned about scrying, it was something i immediately got interested in and tried. i tried fire and water. fire worked a bit better, because the flames are dancing and water is reflective. that meant for me, i was always seeing things in it that were physically there, and couldn't concentrate on the scrying part. honestly i don't really remember why the fire method didn't work out, but i assume i got distracted really fast or lost in my thoughts.

- veiling

veiling can be done for many reasons. mine was, that i wanted to use it as a way to protect myself from all the different types of energy in public places. every person has their own life, with their own problems and their own current state of being. and since i have social anxiety, i thought veiling would be worth a try so that public places perhaps wouldn't get overwhelming as fast. well, that backfired because before i could try it, i realized i was trans and the head covering made me feel very dysphoric when i put it on at home. i never attempted anything similar again after that.

- ancestor work

i lost someone really close to me in early 2020. she wasn't a blood relative, but she was my dad's best friend, our landlord (who lived in the same house as we did by the way) and she saw me grow up since i was a baby. i was so desperate to try and talk to her. i tried to reach her myself, i asked other witches for help, but it never worked. after a while i decided to let her be, because the constant getting my hopes up and then being disappointed didn't help my mental health. i just wanted to know if she was okay now, but i think i just have to trust that she is. as for my other ancestors, i don't know anything about them and i am not really interested in finding out. i wasn't close with any of my great grandparents because we saw each other about once a year until they died. they didn't do anything wrong, but i don't want to force a connection.

- dragon work

damn. i really love dragons. all my life and with all my heart. and i truly believe that they are out there (not physically, like dinosaurs were, but in a similar way the gods are out there). i've done a lot of research on the topic, but my mental health got in the way. i don't have the concentration to reach out to them, nor will i be able to dedicate a specific amount of time to them regularly, which i feel like they won't like. i will try again when and if i get better, but until then it goes on this list of witchcraft things that didn't work for me and why.