#anyways back to your usual scheduled programming

[once-ina-blue-moon]

tfw you go through an entire day waiting for meetings/calls/people to get back to you just to find 30 minutes before you were supposed to do any given thing that it’s been cancelled so now you’ve wasted the better part of your day waiting & preparing for stuff that didn’t even end up happening and now you have work you have to be doing instead of doing something else that’s actually enjoyable . 🙂

[squirror-squirror-on-the-wall]

The people have to know- is it water or a dress, aggy?

��� 𝐀 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬? 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨.

[soupis4ever]

updated oc "family tree" because the last one sucked majorly and did not specify what the hell any of those creatures were. also now we have god lore. and a very long tag rant apparently

[mewhenimanangel]

need that, hamzahthefantastic

prev pt 3*

—synopsis. hamzah invites you over to be in their new video

—warnings!: freaky uti, dry humping, undressing

notes 🫧: the fight was so tuff, i’m a die hard noob

—🐞

you parked your car outside hamzah’s house, fixing your lip gloss and zipping up your sweater before going to knock on his door.

him and martin invited you to be in one of their sims videos since mandy was on vacation and they knew you played as well.

it’s been around two weeks since you and hamzah made out in his car. since then, you’d been texting a lot more and you hung out twice with mandy and martin. though, you haven’t done anything to continue what he started.

hamzah answered the door with a grin, “come on in boi, we haven’t started playing yet. martin’s still connecting the camera and the mic” he closed the door behind you.

you felt something brush against your leg, looking down to see his cat rubbing itself on your leg. “awwww he’s so cute” you reached down to see if he’d let you pick him up.

when he did you held him in your arms and rubbed behind its ear. “which one is this?” you asked hamzah. “this is blue. red’s probably upstairs somewhere clawing at something.” he said, reaching over your arm to pet blue.

“i had to put a child lock on my fridge cause they figured out how to open it bruh” he shook his head.

you giggled looking at him with a smile.

“oh hey y/n, didn’t know you were here already. i just finished setting up the camera” martin said. “heyy” you put blue down on the floor, following martin.

“you ready to get your sims on?” he asked. “try freaking born ready” you giggled, hamzah following behind you.

you sat off to the side on the couch in hamzah’s office while they started the video. “hello everynyan-” hamzah interrupted him “dude what” “it’s like a meme like have you ever seen it? it’s like oh my gahhh” martin awkwardly repeated the video, hamzah stifling a laugh. “anyways we’re back and better than frigging ever” martin started off.

“now it has been a while-“ “definitely been a while-“ “right, a while since our regularly scheduled programming” hamzah said. “i hope you guys enjoyed the fight, we worked super hard literally for like six months”

“and you may realize we’re not in our usual spot, wanna tell them why that is?” martin said. “yes we are, we’re in my house this time because mandy’s on vacation and martin, feeling like a sad little lonely boy wanted to come over and play with me”

“yes mandy is gone. she is in spain right now because she doesn’t love me anymore. you know what they say, ‘go to spain when your lover’s a pain’. that’s why she hasn’t proposed to me yet in the big year of twenty twenty-five” martin went on. “literally nobody says that”

“but speaking of mandy, today we’re playing the sims. something we haven’t done in a long time and we need a little bit of a refresher” “yes, the sims is a girl game and since we don’t have mandy, we brought back up” hamzah added.

“yes, we obviously cannot play this game ourselves so we brought in another expert” they looked at each other before counting down from 3 and snapping their fingers. you knew they were gonna put some silly transition effect over this.

hamzah got up to get another chair for you “you good?” he asked you, making sure you were comfortable. and you nod your head before sitting between them. “hellurr. yes i am mandy’s back up today. because obviously, they don’t know what they’re doing so im taking over.”

“dude what is it with girls and the sims. only girls know how to play the sims” martin and hamzah riffed while you logged into your sims account.

“now this is your first time on here y/n, how do you feel in the presence of such greatness” martin asked. “well im honored to be on but i don’t know about ‘greatness’” you joked.

after two hours of creating sims and making them kill, cheat, fornicate, and find love, they ended the video. “banger video alert” hamzah turned the computer off. “uhh yeah that was really good if i do say so myself.” you pat yourself on the back.

the three of you lounged around hamzah’s living room for another hour after that. “are you guys hungry?” hamzah asked “i was gonna order some food” “actually i still have some packing to do for my flight tomorrow” martin sighed while playing with red. “oh shit right, i forgot” hamzah shrugged.

“i’m gonna head out now bro i’ll see you next week” he dapped hamzah up before doing the same to you. hamzah followed him out before closing the door behind him.

“i could eat” you shrugged and hamzah smiled. he pulled his phone out and ordered chick-fil-a, adding in your order.

you sat criss crossed on his couch as blue jumped into your lap, snuggling up against you and purring. “his ass definitely likes you” hamzah chuckled.

“do you want one?” he asked, coming back from his bedroom with a little jar of edibles. “sure” you reached to grab one with your nails.

hamzah grabbed one too and you tapped them together in a ‘cheers’ motion before eating them.

you soured your face and gagged “okay these are nasty oh my god” you laughed. “yeah they taste like butt but they do the job. the food should be here in like twenty minutes” he said, joining you on the couch.

you helped him review the footage from the video before he sent it to their editor. by now the edible was beginning to kick in and you were growing hungrier by the minute. his door bell rung and he got up to answer the door.

he came back holding the bags of food up with a smile on his face and plopped down onto the couch, this time much closer to you, legs and arms touching.

“fuck i’m starving. is that shit kicking in for you yet?” he asked, handing you your sandwich and fries. “oh it is” you grinned.

“have you ever had the mac and cheese?” he asked you. “no i usually go for the fries” “okay here you gotta try it.” he took some on his fork and put it in front of your mouth, paying close attention to the way your lips wrapped around the fork. “right?” he nod his head at your reaction.

“wait here, you’ve got some cheese on your mouth” he said, brushing your lip off with a napkin. “oh..oops” you giggled through your slowed words.

the two of you tore through your food, turning on family guy in the background. “that was so fucking good” you looked at him, eyes low and red.

“right…..i’m stuffed.” you slowly sipped on your milkshake. “do you ever think about what they do with the cut out pieces of fries?” you asked, just chatting. “i always wonder but they probably just throw them away.” he added.

you leaned back into the couch, cross legged, knee resting atop of hamzah’s as he put his arm on the back of the chair behind you.

he slowly rubbed your bare shoulder that peeked from under your hoodie that was falling off. you leaned your head back, resting it on his arm before looking at him.

“so, are we just never gonna talk about it again?” you addressed the elephant in the room. “hm?” he looked at you. “the kiss, are we just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

“no of course not, i just wasn’t sure if i had made you uncomfortable so i didn’t wanna push anything again” he shrugged. “hamzah i kissed you back for a reason. i wanted it” you reassured. “and i still do” you said, looking away for a second.

he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to his before kissing you. you leaned into the kiss, rubbing your nails at the back of his neck.

the room filled with your mutual satisfied sounds, hamzah pushing his hand up under your sweater. he laid you down against the couch arm, keeping himself steady atop of you.

he slowly pulled the zip down, taking off your sweater off, you willed yourself to follow his lead, wrapping your arms around him. he broke the kiss, “you good, right?” he asked. “yeah, keep going. i want you, hamzah” you reassured. he kissed you again before lining kisses down your jawline and throat. he sucked down on your skin “wait don’t leave any hickeys” you said through a moan.

“too late” he let out a breathy laugh, making you giggle. hamzah let out a soft noise at the feeling of your nails rubbing through his hair. he slowly eased his up under your tank top, reaching up he grabbed a handful of bra. “here, hang on” you sat up, taking off your shirt and throwing it by your sweater. you fiddled with your bra clasp and eased the straps off your shoulders, letting your boobs rest.

hamzah stared at them, mouth agape. “that was a push up bra by the way, so don’t be too disappointed” you joked. “how would i be disappointed. you’re fucking hot” he pulled you atop of him and kissed you, hands firm on your ass.

he kissed down the middle of your chest before his mouth latched on. you sighed in satisfaction when he rolled his tongue.

you subconsciously grinded your hips on his, feeling him grow. “fuck” you winced. you stayed in that position for a while, dry humping each other as he kissed and sucked all over your upper body. you felt yourself getting needier by the minute. “hamzah-“ you started before being interrupted by a knocking on the door. “dude let me in, i forgot my wallet” it was martin.

you looked at hamzah before getting up. he kissed you “go to my bedroom, i’ll be there in a second” he told you and you smirked before leaving the room.

hamzah let him in “ugh thank you, i was worried you fell asleep” martin said, spotting his wallet on the side table.

hamzah looked over his shoulder realizing your shirt and bra were still thrown around on the couch. “imagine i went all the way to spain and forgot this just sitting here” martin chuckled before turning around, hamzah missing the chance to let him not to.

“oou you got chick-fil-a? anything left?” he looked inside a bag before he came face to face with your bra. he turned around, jaw dropped “dude!” he gasped and hamzah grinned.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantasfic, clairedrakee and others

lvryn alright who pressed fast forward on my weekend 😂

mandys_iphone cute

user HELLO? is this a soft launch?????

ynlover omg this and how touchy they were in the sims video last month, they’re definitely dating ?)!(!;$:

— 🐞 the end

[andypantsx3]

IF YOU LET ME : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Disguised as a eunuch in the imperial palace, a mistake on your part leads to your unmasking before the prince. By rights it should mean your death, but Prince Shouto seems to have another plan in mind... CONTENT: Prince Shouto, AFAB fem reader, identity reveal, class differences, slight gender fuckery, historical sexism, implications of past sexual threats, vaguely Heian-era historical Japanese setting, deep historical inaccuracy, SFW (2.2k) NOTES: This was a barely-edited unplanned little thought demon I had to exorcise lol, thank you for being patient with me. Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

Your breast bindings were missing.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You flipped your sleeping mat again, clawing through your blankets frantically, hoping you’d somehow missed them the first time. But only the tatami floor stared back up at you—strands of woven rice straw pale and bare.

You muttered a curse under your breath—you’d definitely forgotten to extract your bindings from where you’d shucked off yesterday’s robes, forgotten to squirrel them away before sinking into bed. And now they’d been whisked away by a palace maid to be laundered. Or worse, discovered.

Your eyes darted through your small sleeping chamber frantically, seeking a solution. You were already late for Prince Shouto’s first lesson of the day, and you needed all the time you could get with him today. You’d promised the Minister of Rites that you’d have a word with the prince, to try to persuade Shouto to accept the wife he was so persistently putting his advisors off on.

You were, after all, the prince’s closest confidant—his personal secretary and calligraphy tutor, an unthreatening eunuch from the lower classes with whom Shouto was clearly most at ease. And at least most of that was true—you did have Prince Shouto’s trust, friendship, and respect, as much as a member of the imperial family could bestow on a commoner, anyway.

If he was going to listen to anyone on the subject of taking a wife—at the very least one concubine, if not his future empress—it would be his trusted friend the eunuch.

There was just one very important detail that everyone, even His Highness, was mistaken about on that account.

One blasted detail that could get you killed at best were anyone to figure it out.

Your eyes fell back to your blankets, and you immediately grabbed two fistfuls, yanking as hard as you could until you felt the fabric give, the rip and tear echoing in the small space of your sleeping chamber. You kept ripping until a strip came free, a little smaller than what you usually had to work with.

But you were not about to complain, not at a time like this.

You flung the strip down to scrabble with the tie of your underrobe, unknotting it with fumbling fingers. You were just about to fling it off of you when there was a careful knock against the screen of your door.

You didn’t manage to stifle your reflexive scream, stumbling through a half-executed turn towards the door. The screen was suddenly thrown back with alarming force, Prince Shouto’s figure filling the doorway.

You yanked your shirt closed again, panicking, as you caught sight of the concern on his handsome face. You barely registered the other details, mind tripping over excuses, unable to appreciate the way his shoulders looked all the broader in his sokutai the way you normally did.

“Are you well?” Shouto demanded, his normally soft tone a little ragged. You watched his mismatched eyes dart quickly around your chambers, as if seeking a threat, only to drop back to you when there was none.

“Your Highness,” you said, lost for anything else.

“I heard—there was a scream,” he said, his eyebrows scrunching the tiniest bit.

He always looked his most beautiful when he was confused, you thought, focusing hard on a particular problem. Not that a common woman had any business thinking anything about the crown prince, never mind a woman masquerading as a man. But it was hard to ignore a face that beautiful, the way his gaze sharpened with focus, full mouth pursing as he thought through a problem.

He looked like that now as his gaze darted over you. And then suddenly his eyes dipped to your collarbone, and his features went perfectly, horribly still.

An elegant hand reached back, and he immediately drew the screen closed behind him, eyes never leaving you as he took another step into the room.

You stumbled back, almost tripping over your bedding. You did not dare to turn towards him or away, scuttling sideways instead like a nervous crab.

“Your Highness,” you began again, heart shooting into your mouth when Shouto’s long fingers tangled in your undershirt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softening. You gripped your shirt closed as hard as you could against the tug of his fingers. “Did something happen?”

“N-nothing,” you stammered, not liking the way it made him clearly more suspicious. “I was just changing.”

But Shouto’s beautiful, cursed eyes dipped to your bedding, where the torn strip lay across your blankets in plain sight. You could almost see the calculation as his eyes widened the tiniest fraction, and his grip tightened on your robes. Of course he’d seen it, and of course it looked like a wound dressing you’d just been about to apply.

He took another step closer, too close, until you could feel the heat of him through your sleeve, smell the sweet blend of dried herbs the servants kept his clothing stored with.

You tried to twist out of Shouto’s grip without rucking up your shirt, but his hold was too strong.

“Let me see,” he ordered in his soft, low tone. Your heartbeat kicked up higher, hammering in your chest so hard it could have broken a rib.

It was a death sentence to ignore an order from a member of the imperial family. It was also a death sentence to reveal what you’d been these many years. You hoped Prince Shouto, something of a friend to you, would let you off lightly for ignoring him.

“Please, Your Highness,” you said, clinging even harder to the closure of your shirt. “I will be ready in just a moment, I am simply running late. I beg your forgiveness.”

But if there was one thing about the crown prince, it was that he was stubborn, bullheaded when it came to the ideas and goals he took seriously. And he had always made it clear he took your friendship seriously.

That perfect mouth shifted into a frown. “I order you to let me see,” he said, his tone still soft but firm. “You will let me.”

You froze under his hands, muscles locking up in panic. Shouto was still between you and the door, and your chambers were not wide enough for you to slip around him without him being able to easily catch you. He was also, unfortunately, extremely quick with sharp reflexes honed by years of swordsmanship. There would be no escaping this situation.

Fuck. Fuck, you were out of ideas.

“Hold still,” Shouto commanded gently, long fingers prying your stiff ones away from the shirt ties. You watched his face in mute panic, not wanting to see the flash of betrayal and disgust, but unable to look away as he prised your robes aside. Shame heated your cheeks.

Shouto’s long eyelashes dipped, before his gaze froze on your chest. For a second, he went as stiff as you. Then he was yanking your robes closed again, a watercolor of pink washing across the bridge of his nose and those high cheekbones.

His eyes darted back to yours, his expression perfectly still though his face was flushed. “You never told me,” he said accusingly.

The right thing to do in this situation was to go to your knees in a kowtow and beg for his mercy, but Shouto still had a grip on your robes and did not look like he meant to let go. You ducked your head in as much of a bow as you could manage, your face warm. “Your Highness, I have no excuse. I have betrayed you.”

When you had concocted this scheme, you had wanted to put yourself beyond the reach of a local official back in your home village. His advances were becoming increasingly aggressive, and as a common woman, you had no recourse. You could only escape into a place where his rule was circumvented by a superior one, where no man would think to have an interest in you.

You had not intended to become Prince Shouto’s tutor, had not anticipated the true risk of your gambit until it was already too late. But you would still rather die than be returned into the hands of your village’s preceptor.

If this is how it ended…

“I have compromised you,” Shouto’s voice startled you out of your memories.

You glanced up at him, befuddled.

Shouto’s fingers twisted in your robes. “Just now, and—all the many times we have been alone until now. I did not know.”

Honor and compromise were the least of your concerns right now, and would matter even less in the event of your death. You did not know where the prince meant to go with this.

“Your Highness, you were not expected to know,” you said, shame coiling in your belly. You would make the same choices you had made over again, if given the chance, but you had never meant to betray Shouto. You had genuinely liked him, and you would regret losing the chance to be by his side in the years to come.

Shouto’s eyes flicked over you in some kind of assessment. He lifted one hand from your shirt, gasping your scholar’s cap and tugging it free from your hair. You felt his fingers tangle so very gently in the strands of your hair, seeking out the ties and pins.

Your own eyes traced over him as he did, drinking in the firm planes of his chest in his sokutai, the dark blue a beautiful contrast with his pale skin. You heard pins dropping to the ground beside you, as Shouto rubbed a strand of your hair between his fingers. He seemed to be evaluating you in a new light, relearning your appearance though a clearer lens.

Disgust and betrayal were not evident in how delicately he was handling you. You did not know what this meant.

“They will put you to death if they know,” Shouto said, eyes slowly moving from the hair between his fingers to your face again. “You cannot hide like this forever.”

You did not know what other choice was to be had. If Shouto did not plan to put you to death himself, then what other choice did you have than to go on pretending?

Shouto’s gaze dropped to your mouth and you realized you’d spoken the thought aloud.

“There is one other way to put you beyond the reach of the court,” he said slowly.

You felt your eyebrows raise in question. “I cannot think of it, Your Highness.”

Shouto absently curled the strand of your hair about his fingers, the little crease between his perfect eyebrows appearing again. He looked the way he did when he played games with his strategy tutor, or when he was thinking hard on a new sword form.

“The ministers wish for me to take a wife,” Shouto said softly. “My household is mine to manage alone.”

Outside the laws of the court, he meant. A strange flutter went through you, heat spotting your cheeks again. Shouto’s presence before you was suddenly magnified a hundred fold, and you became singularly aware of the breadth and height of him, the heat of him almost against you.

“You do not want a wife,” you said, well aware of the many years he’d spent bullheadedly resisting the idea.

“I do not want any the ministers have selected for me,” Shouto corrected.

Your whole body felt flushed again. He meant he was amenable to you.

You had never let yourself think it but he was more than amenable to you as well.

“I would keep you safe,” he promised.

You almost slumped to the floor in relief, only Shouto’s grip on you keeping you upright. You would not die. You would not be returned to your village. You would, through all of this, it seemed, keep Shouto’s friendship.

“I know you would,” you said.

Shouto understood your acceptance. Slowly his fingers untwined themselves from your hair, and he drew your robes more firmly around you. Your body burned hot, still, stomach fluttering under his renewed brand of regard.

“I will arrange it quickly,” Shouto said. “You must stay here. I will send someone for you.”

You nodded.

Shouto looked regretful as he stepped back from you. “We will do it properly, later,” he said. “I will pay my respects to your family.”

You waved a hand frantically, shocked by the idea of the future emperor making his bows in your family’s rundown hut. It was not as though you would be his first-ranked wife or empress! He did not need to pay any respects to the family of a concubine out of a common family!

“There is no need,” you insisted, but Shouto was already turning towards the door. You could see by the set of his shoulders this was another thing he meant to be stubborn about.

“I will honor my first and only wife,” he said, turning to pin you with that heterochromatic gaze.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but you had no time to reply before he was sliding the door closed behind him again, leaving you alone with the sudden weight of the statement. It had all happened so quickly, you had never expected that Shouto meant what he did.

You wondered what it meant that Shouto had made such a promise so readily, when he had known the truth about you for only minutes.

And you wondered if, like your original entry into the palace, you were getting yourself into something far beyond what you initially understood.

[silkpagess]

Una Notte a Roma

Hi! This is my very first fanfic, so I’m a little nervous but super excited to share it with you. Thank you for reading it and I hope you enjoy this little Roman adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it 💫 (pls pls pls reblog if you liked it :)

Summary: Y/N’s just trying to enjoy her time in Rome—wine, karaoke, and maybe a little chaos. She definitely doesn’t expect to cross paths with Harry Styles at a random bar. He’s low-key, charming, and way too handsome for her peace of mind. What starts as one flirty, unexpected night turns into something neither of them saw coming. It’s messy, magnetic, and totally unforgettable—because when in Rome… right?

Word count: 2k

It’s just another night in Rome, nothing too special, right?

The air outside felt like the remnants of the day, warm but with a breeze that pulled at your clothes, urging you to breathe deeply, to live in the moment. Y/N had been in Italy for just a few weeks, enough to know where the good gelato spots were, but not enough to feel entirely comfortable speaking Italian without second-guessing every word. She’d signed up for the exchange program on a whim, a last-minute decision, and now she was here, surrounded by cobblestones and ancient history, living on a schedule that barely made sense.

The bar she walked into was small, tucked between two old buildings in the heart of Rome, the neon lights flickering above the door, promising both danger and excitement. It was the kind of place where tourists and locals collided, unpredictable, but always interesting. Her friends were already sitting at a table near the back, laughing and talking in a mix of Italian and English, trying to decide who was going to be the first to grab the microphone when the karaoke started. Y/N didn’t really feel like singing tonight, but she could already tell they’d drag her into it anyway. It was just what they did.

She didn’t notice him at first, not really. Harry was sitting at the bar with a group of friends, quietly observing the room as if he were trying to blend into the background. He didn’t want to stand out, not tonight. The last thing he wanted was to be recognized, so he’d come to this bar, hoping that people would be too caught up in their own lives to notice him. But as she passed him on her way to the table, something shifted. He couldn’t help but notice her, how her laugh rang out in the chaos of the bar, how her dark hair bounced with every step, how the look on her face was one of carefree confidence. There was something magnetic about her, something that drew his attention and held it even as he tried to look away.

He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about her presence that felt... familiar. Not in the sense of "I’ve seen her before," but more like she was the kind of person you were always meant to meet. And when their eyes met briefly, the world seemed to slow down, just for a second. A moment that didn’t mean much to anyone else but meant everything to him.

She didn’t acknowledge him at all. She was too busy catching up with her friends, laughing, exchanging stories, her eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that only came when you were in a foreign place, away from home, doing something you’d never thought you’d do.

But Harry couldn’t stop looking at her.

⸻

The night dragged on with the usual chaos of a karaoke bar, people singing off-key, others trying too hard to impress, and some just there for the drinks and atmosphere. But as the first notes of Queen’s "Don’t Stop Me Now" blared through the speakers, Y/N jumped out of her seat like she was born for this moment. She had no shame, no hesitation. She was the kind of person who lived in the moment, the kind who threw herself into things without looking back. Her friends followed suit, their energy contagious, and soon, the entire bar was swept up in the beat.

Y/N wasn’t just singing, she was dancing, pulling people into the circle with her, encouraging everyone to join in. Her body moved with a kind of reckless abandon, like she was the only one in the world who mattered, like this moment, right now, was all there was. Harry’s eyes never left her, and neither did the grin that slowly spread across his face. She was a whirlwind of energy, laughter, and life.

The bartender, a grizzled older man with a thick accent, glanced over at Harry and his friends, raising an eyebrow. “What a character, huh?” he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah," Harry replied, his voice quiet but amused. "A character."

⸻

When the song ended, the energy in the room didn’t dip, it only grew stronger. People were still clapping, laughing, and shouting as Y/N made her way back to the bar, her cheeks flushed from the dance, her breath still coming in short bursts from the exertion. She walked past Harry again, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume—a soft, floral scent that seemed to hang in the air long after she’d moved on.

He didn’t know what possessed him, but he couldn’t let it go. He stood up and walked towards her, his steps deliberate, each one bringing him closer to the girl who had somehow captured his attention without even trying.

"Hey," he said when he reached her. His voice was low, but it carried an ease to it. “You’ve got some serious skills on that mic."

Y/N glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to place him, then shrugged. “I’ve been practicing my rockstar moves for years.” She shot him a grin, the kind that told him she wasn’t taking him too seriously. She was fun, she was playful, and he could already tell she had a sharp wit. “But thanks, I guess.”

Harry laughed, leaning casually against the bar. “I’m Harry, by the way. I know this might sound weird, but you kind of just... owned that performance.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and for the first time, she seemed to really register who he was. Not just some random guy in a bar, but the Harry Styles, or at least, that was what he thought she was thinking.

But all she said was, “Well, I’m Y/N, and if you’re expecting me to serenade you, you’ve got the wrong idea. I only do public performances for my friends.”

There was a challenge in her voice, a spark in her eyes, and Harry found himself leaning in, intrigued by this girl who seemed to have no interest in fame or recognition, who was just... herself.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” he replied with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing more.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, you’ll have to catch me on a better night, Harry.”

“I think tonight’s pretty great,” he said, his smile widening.

She didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to look him over—really look at him, her eyes scanning him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “You’re one of those people who likes to keep a low profile, aren’t you?” she said, the corner of her lips curling up just slightly.

“Something like that,” he replied, shifting slightly. “And you?”

She snorted, a playful sound that caught him off guard. “I’m not trying to keep a low profile. I just... don’t care what people think.”

Harry chuckled, his gaze softening. “I think I can respect that.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Good. Because if you ever want a proper performance, you’ll have to catch me when I’m not surrounded by my loud, obnoxious friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry said, his voice low, teasing. "But for tonight, I’m more than happy to just watch."

And for the rest of the night, that’s exactly what he did, watched as she danced, sang, and lived in a way that made everything around her fade into the background.

It wasn’t just her energy or her confidence that captivated him. It was the fact that she didn’t need anyone else’s approval, that she could exist in the world as herself, unapologetically, without a care.

And Harry realized, as he watched her go back to her friends, laughing and shouting, that he hadn’t felt this intrigued by anyone in a long time.

Maybe it wasn’t just about the performance after all. Maybe it was about the person. 

And maybe, just maybe, it was about time for him to stop watching from the sidelines.

⸻

The night wore on in a haze of laughter and neon lights, the kind of night that didn’t feel real until the morning after. Harry stayed close, never quite hovering but always within reach. Occasionally, Y/N’s eyes would find his across the room, once during a particularly ridiculous rendition of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” another when she was taking a sip of her drink and caught him smiling at her like he’d never seen anything quite like her before.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself enjoy being seen.

It wasn’t until her friends began gathering their things that Y/N realized how late it had gotten. The bar had thinned out, and the cool Roman night pressed in through the open door, carrying the scent of the Tiber and distant music from another street. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her voice was hoarse from singing, and her feet ached in the best way.

She stepped outside with her friends, the group spilling into the quiet street like kids leaving a school dance. Some were headed to a club, others were calling cabs or figuring out the late-night bus schedule. Y/N pulled her phone out to check the time just as a voice called from behind.

“Hey, Y/N.”

She turned, expecting one of her friends—but it was Harry, hands in his jacket pockets, hair a bit tousled by the breeze.

“You walking back?” he asked.

“Yeah, I live just a few blocks that way.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said simply.

She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright.”

They walked side by side down a narrow street lit by antique lamps, the stones underfoot uneven and slippery in places. It was quiet now, the noise of the bar a distant echo, replaced by the soft hum of the city at rest.

“You always like this?” Harry asked after a stretch of silence.

Y/N glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know… fearless. Like nothing can touch you.”

She laughed under her breath. “That’s just a good performance. Truth is, I barely know what I’m doing most of the time. I’m constantly second-guessing everything.”

He looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “You hide it well.”

“That’s the trick,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Fake it until you start to believe it yourself.”

Harry smiled. “That’s fair. But still… it suits you. That boldness. That energy.”

Y/N tilted her head, a little amused, a little unsure. “Are you always this poetic, or is it just the Italian air?”

He laughed. “Maybe a bit of both.”

They reached her street, a quiet stretch flanked by old apartment buildings with wooden shutters and ivy crawling up the sides. Alice paused at her door, turning to face him.

“Well, this is me,” she said softly.

Harry nodded, but he didn’t step back. “You’ve made tonight feel... different. Good different.”

She looked at him for a long second. “You’re not bad company yourself.”

There was a pause—a charged moment where neither of them moved, where the possibilities of the night hovered between them like a held breath.

“Would it be too much if I asked to see you again?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Y/N smiled slowly, her eyes meeting his. “You already have. But if you’re asking if you can be part of the next performance...”

He leaned in, the space between them narrowing. “Only if you promise I won’t have to sing.”

She chuckled. “No promises.”

And then, before either of them could talk themselves out of it, she leaned in and kissed him. Soft and brief, more like a question than a statement—but it was enough to make Harry forget every reason he’d had for hiding that night.

When she pulled away, she said, “Good night, Harry,” and disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

He stood there for a moment, lips still tingling, heart beating in a rhythm he hadn’t felt in years.

Rome had a way of sneaking up on you.

And so did she.

[rubra-wav]

I had this interesting scenario where Vox one day becomes exhausted from his rivalry with Alastor after realizing that the one-sided interactions were becoming old. He later meets the reader (who can also be a part of the hotel) who starts hacking into Voxtech's database to troll the company for shits and giggles. This catches Vox's attention and he's pissed about it. You can do what you want for the rest but they continue to have this rivalry to the point where it's very well known around hell. From an outside perspective, there is just back-and-forth angry banter but there are moments where they're just;

Reader: *appears on screen* Hey Box head, guess who found some good blackmail with your name on it- Vox: *Is so close to having a breakdown, he had a bad week.* Reader: Oh shit- did something happen, are you okay? 😰

They hate each other but they don't hate hate each other. This can be taken as platonic or romantic. I sent this request to someone else but I wanted to share anyway.

Vox x troll/hacker reader: Why So Blue? (Oneshot/concept version)

Why So Blue fic Masterlist

A/N me when I get to write Vox getting utterly humiliated by a troll-y hacker demon 🫶

I changed about the order of stuff as things happen a bit and took creative liberties with this one - sorry if it's really different then the thought you originally had.

(REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, THIS WAS FROM THE LAST TIME THEY WERE OPEN)

Update: This was really well-received, and several people have requested a part 2. I've decided that I will be writing it properly from the start in a proper chapter kind of way rather than in this format so it makes continuity kind of work better rather then the drabbl-y format used here.

Cw: SFW, romantic, enemy's to lovers type beat, references to one-sided radiostatic, also references to staticmoth, mildly suggestive in one part 💀, gn reader, mostly light-hearted - idk if it qualifies as quite hurt/comfort lmao

- It was just a normal morning for Vox when you first showed up.

- As usual, he booted up for the day, got changed out of his casual clothes, and made his morning coffee.

- As he walked into his computer room, absentmindedly sipping his coffee while looking at his phone, he sits down in his desk.

- Then promptly spits out his mouthful.

- When he finally looks up at the screens around him, he's mortified to see a muted video of himself passionately (and very drunkly) singing and dancing horribly from last night while he was out with Valentino and Velvette.

- Posted on Sinstagram from his own account.

- Hundreds of comments flooded in underneath it; laughing, saying it's cute, complimenting his singing, and talking about the caption underneath with curiosity.

- The caption reads; 'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here LMAO'

- Vox flips out instantly.

- It doesn't take long to take down the post, change all of his details, and post an official apology for his lack of professionalism with a hypnotising message to forget the whole incident occurred at all. He also does a massive comb over for any other breaches and changes all of his systems to be even more impenetrable to a potional attack.

- He calms down, and the incident fades away to the back of his mind.

- But then it happens again.

- Another morning, an employee is rushing into his studio as he wakes up properly, telling him this time that someone is somehow broadcasting Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to the entirety of hell at 6 am, interrupting every one of the scheduled programs.

- There's a message in big letters on the bottom of every screen in hell, under the god forsaken video and song playing, saying, "What is love~? - U" Underneath them.

- And that's how it starts, the infuriating thorn in Vox's side that is 'U'. No matter how hard he tries, you're constantly undermining his efforts to keep you out of the system and tormenting him in ways that aren't necessarily malignant but are extremely damaging to his image as the overlord of technology.

- For some reason, he's the only Vee you seem hellbent on coming after as well. Vel finds your pranks funny or cute when they don't inconvenience her, and Valentino just likes to prod Vox into getting angrier further.

- He just cannot work out what your motivations are at all. Is it truly that you just want to piss him off? He doesn't understand why someone with such clear skills would simply use them to taunt him and leave him messages to unveil as he undoes whatever you do.

- It vexes him even farther when these messages from you that you leave for him to decode start to sound borderline flirtatious, which makes him feel all the more humiliated.

- He is a grown demon, skilled businessman and entrepreneur, an overlord, and yet you insist upon calling him things like Box, Boxbabe, Boxbitch, and even babygirl of all things for some goddamn reason.

- The back and forth goes on for months, and 'U' quickly becomes a long lasting meme, several people, much to Vox's horror, shipping you two together and even partaking in ship wars as to whether Vox x 'U' is better then Vox x Val.

- Theres one day where Vox quickly puts his phone down after reading a rather concerning expert from what is certainly explicit fanfiction between the two of you, even him deciding that that's enough internet for today while just sitting staring off into space silently for a solid 10 seconds.

- Vox's sleepless nights pouring over his code to try and keep out your attacks, him glitching out whenever he finds infuriating messages left by you, etc. Begin to become routine and he just anticipates the consistent blows to his pride you give him at every turn.

- A weird, unconscious part of him deep down begins to enjoy your rivalry, almost wanting to see what punches you pull out next to disarm his constant losing battle to keep you out, but it gets squashed down the second he becomes aware of it.

- The rivalry is always at arms length, but sometimes he has to stop himself from replying with the same vaguely flirtatious tone you take on whenever he experiences a small win against you.

- He fights to make sure he doesn't have any potential of getting too into it.

- Things take a different turn, though, with the double blow of Alastor coming back and his on-off relationship with Valentino once again going up in flames.

- After stopping his usual monitoring of all things going on in hell online and in real life as picked up by his cameras, he presses his face into his hands with a long, exhausted groan as he fights crying.

- All the people he was actually interested in were as unrequited as per usual. He always tried so hard with Alastor, but as always, he never got anything but met with the clear reminder they would never be anything more.

- And, of course, any potential of anything more happening with Val was completely off the table. It would be stupid to even think about anything real with him.

- He shut his eyes, putting his screen on the desk in front of him.

- Was he just not worth it? Was that it?

- He startled when he heard the familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life around him. It was rare he ever heard your voice coming through his speakers, you usually preferring to just leave messages, however you decided to surprise him tonight apparently.

- Your blurred out face appears on the screens, only showing the lower half of your grinning face.

- "Oh Boooooxybooooy! I found some world-shattering cringey shit you did 2 months back, i-" You begin singing out, before stopping, seeing by his expression.

- Vox was trembling, looking as if he was about fall apart at any second. His monitor was dulled, red eyes half lidded with pixelated bags forming under them, his bottom lip slightly quivering around his sharp teeth.

- "What the- fuck- ....are you alright?" You asked unsurely.

- Vox finally snapped out of it, realising that you were here witnessing him in a way that was very much not something he wanted you of all people to see him in. His mask slid back on, but it was hardly convincing.

- "Of course it is. What the fuck do you wa-ant. I've got shit to do." He inwardly cursed as his voice glitched slightly. God fucking dammit why did you have to show up.

- He watched your lips on your mostly blurred out face slightly curl as you hummed, clearly not buying it.

- "You wanna stop with the lying bullshit and tell me the truth, Boxhead?" You somewhat chided him, your hand coming into sight as you leaned your cheek onto it. Vox let out a growling sound, going to spit some vitriol at you, but was cut off as you absentmindedly made your next comment.

"Felt you once again have a fit about the radio demon going online. Lights in my house and the houses out my windows started flashing and shit. Is it hi-" your brows shot up and eyes widened, this hidden behind the censorship as you watched Vox, leader of the Vees, your rival, let out a shuddering breath and actually start crying comically pixilated tears right before your eyes.

- Vox's claws gripped into his desk as he grit his teeth as he let out a gasping breath he fought to stifle. He was so goddamn exhausted that he just couldn't be assed to keep it all up anymore. It wasn't like you hadn't seen rather unsavoury things he'd been trying to hide anyways.

- "No shit it's about Alastor. It's always about him. Does it get you off knowing I can't get with the guy I have always wanted no matter how hard I try? There. Are you fucking happy now?" His voice cracks as he snarls the words out at you.

- You let out a long humming sound, as if thinking. "I mean, not really. I'd only be happy if you were this upset over me, not some old hazbin radio announcer who fell off years ago." You shrug with a slightly sad smile.

- Vox squinted at you, confused.

- "I mean, come on, I'm your rival too. Why neglect me so much in all this?" You press your bottom lip out in mock sadness, tone mocking again. Your words are true despite the joking tone however, it did bother you that he always seemed so much more ready to go running after the most obviously aroace man you think you had seen in your entire fucking life.

- Vox couldn't believe what he was hearing, hot embarrassment caused his monitor to start heating up a bit, painting animated flush over his cheeks. "Oh, stop taking the piss, U. Fuck off." He scoffed, rolling his eyes, looking to the side in irritation.

- You chuckle at him, shaking your head and causing the thing blurring your face to shake with it. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm into what we have going on here?" Your voice is still lined with the usual tone you take on with him, but much less so.

- Vox looks back at your blurred, smiling face incredulously. "Yes." He growled, blinking his tears away as he regained his composure a bit.

- You sigh heavily, rolling your eyes. "Ooookay, well, once you're done riding the coattails of a man who will never want you, come hit me up, Boxhead." You say through smiling lips, before abruptly pressing 'hang up' on the call so he didn't have time to actually respond.

- Vox sat in bewildered silence, not able to react properly as his brain felt as if it was working on low resolution comprehending what you just said.

- His face heated up the more he thought about it, heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he laughed in disbelief. No way. No fucking way.

- But you had said it.

- Despite his usual pessimistic nature, he allowed himself to actually believe it, chuckling.

- He looked over to his phone as a notification sound rang out to see a photo of himself presumably just now; flustered, eyes wide in disbelief and unfocused while staring off into space, a crooked grin on his face.

- It was captioned as follows; 'POV: local pathetic radio simp finds out other rival actually wants him'

- "FUCK." He yelled out in embarrassment, knocking out several of his monitors with a surge of electricity.

I loved writing this sm omfggg.

There's definitely part 2 potential to this one, but it would have to be in a while w all the other stuff I'm gonna get to first.

Masterlist

[beababoobies]

Vox x Reader nsfw & sfw HCs!

;)

BEING WITH VOX WOULD INCLUDE ~ 

📶 Sleeping next to the DVD sleeping screen. His little ‘v’ logo bouncing on the sides of his screen as he sleeps. Does not snore, but his fans will spin occasionally if he’s dreaming.

📶 Sweet & Gentle with you. You’re having a bad day? Why don’t you come up to his private office for a couple hours and talk to him about it on his lap? Or maybe he can get a whole new season of your favourite show to be out by that afternoon.

📶 His main love language is words of affirmation, but he loves physical touch as well. Listen, just.. tell him he’s doing a lovely job as the leader of the Vees, and let him lay on your chest for a bit. He’ll melt. 

📶 You have never thought about ending things between the two of you. But if you did? TV programs would practically run lost persons reports for you half the day. Legally lost, maybe not. But he’d put a hefty reward on whoever can bring you back to him. 

📶 Will miss out on meetings, screw up his schedule, he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t even fucking like ninety percent of the people here anyways. He’s just happy you want him around so much.

📶 Spending time together is constant. He has a meeting across town he can’t miss? You’ll just have to sit next to him for it, so he can squeeze the soft flesh of your thigh if he gets frustrated. You’re actually going out to see some friends? Not ones he knows? Perfect time for them to meet him, he says. He’ll be ready in fifteen. 

📶 Sweetest service top in bed. You’re too tired? Don’t worry, you can just lay back, take it in. You just need an orgasm to destress? He’s between your thighs before you can suggest anything else. Too much? Not enough? He gets off on making you feel just fucking right. 

📶 Usually. Sometimes after an extra long, hard day, he just needs to hold you face down and ass up and use you as an extra whiney fleshlight. He’ll never cross a boundary, but if you’ll let him. He’ll push your head into the cushions with one hand on your hips to keep you steady and make sure you’re sore for weeks. 

📶 He’s vocal, and needs someone else who’s vocal. He loves to hear the collective groans mixing together like a lewd sympathy. He can’t get enough of how whiney and desperate you can get. He can’t. 

[moodymelanist]

If you’re still looking for short nessian prompts could you do Nesta and Cassian in a long distance relationship having a standing weekly video call but one of them is unusually late because they’re going to surprise the other in person

happy @nestaarcheronweek everyone! I’ve been struggling with writing block and life has been hectic af but considering it’s my event I thought I’d do a little something haha. we’ll see if I do more 👀

Nesta took a deep breath as she stood outside Cassian’s door, nervous despite the fact that she knew her boyfriend would be thrilled to see her.

He still made her nervous despite the almost two years they’d been together — the good kind, usually. They’d met by chance at one of those graduate school mixers that grad students only came to for the food, and Nesta would never stop being grateful to Gwyn demanding that she make an appearance.

“You need to get out of your law school bubble, Nesta,” Gwyn had told her with all the haughtiness a psych masters’ student could muster. “Plus, there’s going to be catering.”

Nesta had bumped into Cassian while waiting to get some more samosas, and the rest was history.

Considering he was in a history program, Cassian made that joke far too often, but Nesta didn’t mind. She’d just roll her eyes and shut him up with a kiss, and then neither of them minded too much after that anyway.

When her boyfriend had gotten the opportunity to study abroad and get a more hands-on semester, Nesta had threatened to break up with him if he didn’t apply. Cassian had been worried about leaving her abroad while he went off to Europe — something about how she’d manage to feed herself properly without his cooking — but they both knew this opportunity was too good to pass up. So Cassian had packed his bags, Nesta had driven him to Dulles and kissed him senseless, and they’d made do with phone calls and care packages and even a few honest to God love letters.

Nesta absolutely didn’t have them saved in her nightstand to pull out before bed. She did not.

Still, there had only been so much a woman could take of missing the love of her life before she had to take action. So Nesta had made sure her passport was renewed, packed her bags, and gotten her ridiculously rich brother-in-law to pay for her ticket.

Rhys had seemed more excited about the trip than Nesta was, which would normally make Nesta suspicious if not for how relieved he’d seemed that Cassian would stop complaining about how much he missed her to anyone who’d listen. Nesta had been too happy to save several hundred dollars to even be offended on Cassian’s behalf.

So she’d braved a flight across the Atlantic, managed to navigate her way through the airport, and finally found herself outside Cassian’s door. She’d timed it just right with his schedule that she knew he’d be just settling in to call her in the States, but little did he know that he’d be getting the real thing momentarily.

Sure enough, Nesta’s phone started vibrating in her jacket pocket within the next minute, and she cursed quietly as she fumbled to get it out of her pocket. Cassian’s face appearing on her screen made her gaze turn a little soft before she remembered she had to actually answer the phone, and she moved a little further down the hallway so he hopefully wouldn’t hear her through the door.

“Hello?” Nesta said, trying to speak quietly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Cassian said back. Just the sound of his voice made every thought in her head go blissfully quiet, and she smiled to herself knowing she would hear it for real in a few minutes. “How’s your day going? Excited for the weekend?”

“It’s okay,” she told him truthfully. “Just kinda long. I’m ready to take a nice nap, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed. Something shifted in the background and she pictured him laid out on the couch the way he always did at her place. “A nap with you sounds pretty nice right now.”

“I know,” she replied. She took a deep breath and started walking back toward his door, hoping that his reaction to seeing her would be good. “Hey, did you check your mail today?”

“No, why?” he asked. He sounded like he was sitting up now, and she smiled to herself knowing they were that much closer to seeing each other. “You send me something?”

“Maybe,” she answered playfully. “You should go find out.”

Cassian laughed, the sound of it spreading something warm through her chest. “Yeah, okay, twist my arm. I’ll go look now.”

Nesta waited patiently for him to put on some shoes, and then she could hear him unlocking his door and suddenly, there he was. He looked as handsome as ever, half his curls pulled up away from his face in a loose bun, and dressed in a dark gray shirt and black shorts.

God, he was hot. Nesta half hoped he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Cassian did a double take as he realized someone was standing in front of his door, his eyes widening in complete shock as he realized it was Nesta standing there. “Nesta?”

“Hi,” Nesta said, hanging up their call now that they were finally face to face. He was so adorable; she wanted to kiss that gobsmacked expression right off him. “Hope it’s okay that I dropped by.”

“Holy shit,” he said back. He surged forward and gathered her in his arms, and she melted immediately into the warmth of his body. She’d missed this. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as deeply as she could manage. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dug her fingers into his soft curls with a happy sigh. “I missed you.”

“Believe me, I missed you more,” he replied. He leaned back so he could press kisses to her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, making her laugh until he finally kissed her properly. “Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Let me in and I’ll make you believe it,” she answered, her grip on his hair turning decidedly more wicked.

It turned out Cassian was wearing underwear after all, but Nesta made sure it wasn’t for much longer.

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited | @pham-tastical

[drownedinlavender]

⋆｡°✩South Park High School AU Headcanons⋆｡°✩

Mainly written to get out of my writers block lmaoo. This is a guide to all my headcanons in my “Be Nice to Me” fanfic

⋆｡°✩ Kyle Broflovski:

6'2”. Tall with lean muscle. Ginger with emerald green eyes and light freckles. Very curly hair with trimmed sides.

Juggles the debate club, basketball team, student council, and too many AP classes to count.

The first to get his driver's license out of the main 4 + Leopold.

His parents got him a car for his birthday for doing so well academically.

Works and volunteers during the summer.

Gets into detention often due to Cartman baiting him into fights.

Has gotten benched multiple times for playing too aggressively in basketball games when instigated by rival teams.

Has a tight knit study group with Wendy, Tolkien, and Nichole.

They help each other out with their AP classes but also consider each other rivals, trying to beat the other for the title of valedictorian.

Very good at first person shooters, often out performing Cartman.

Knows how to build a PC.

Learned how to program in his free time.

Spends time with his family and has a close relationship with Ike.

Knows Cartman’s schedule better than Cartman himself

Begrudgingly gives Cartman rides to school sometimes. Will leave him if he takes too long though.

⋆｡°✩Eric Cartman:

5'10”. Big, bulky build. A lot of arm muscle + big belly. Soft chestnut brunette hair. Dark reddish brown eyes. Thick eyebrows.

Is both on the football and hockey teams. He likes to use both sports as an excuse to be a major asshole towards others and uses his size to his advantage.

In the board games club. Argues with Nichole a lot for leadership.

Has a hard time studying and paying attention due to ADHD.

Does enough school work to pass. Thinks school is pointless and a big scam.

Would much rather play video games or watch TV instead of school work.

Unfortunately, to his Spanish teacher's demise, outperforms others in Spanish class.

Prefers first person shooters but also loves dress up games. Would kill anyone that found out.

Will trash talk your mom but if someone trash talks his mom he WILL dox them.

Loves reality tv. Big fan of RuPaul's drag race, Love is Blind, the Real Housewives.

Is a menace on reddit.

Has gotten his account reported many times on reddit, discord, and twitter.

Planning to major in business or finance in college.

The last of the main 4 + Leopold(Butters) to learn how to drive. Was genuinely too lazy and constantly bummed rides off the others anyway, specially Kyle.

⋆｡°✩Stan Marsh:

5'11”. Average build. Straight dark black hair. Wears a beanie often since his hair gets oily fast. Dark blue eyes.

Stan loves writing and listening to music. He's very big into metal, rock, and Midwest emo right now.

His extracurriculars are football and the board game club.

He volunteers at animal shelters in his free time and fundraisers for the environment.

He's an average student, usually getting Bs and Cs, and a D if he doesn't study enough.

He's terrible at multitasking. He's a very forgetful person.

Wendy and Kyle constantly have to remind him about deadlines and big projects.

On his 16th birthday, his dad gave him his old pick up truck.

Tolkien comes over often and they do homework together. He helps Stan with math a lot.

Stan and Kyle still consider themselves best friends even if they don't live right next door.

Crimson Dawn meets up often, practicing at Stan's since they can be as loud as they want there.

Sometimes friends like Kyle, Wendy, Timmy, and Tolkien come over to just hang out with the others and watch the band practice.

Stan and Wendy have been off and on since elementary school. It's obvious when they're not dating since Stan sometimes relapses back into his goth phase.

Stan and Tolkien have hooked up on a few occasions when Stan and Wendy broke up.

Tolkien has also dated Wendy on more than one occasion.

Stan is the type of kid that casually gets along with every “clique” in school since he doesn't really have beef with anyone. He's a very chill guy who often reacts pretty indifferently to most things.

⋆｡°✩Kenny Mccormick:

5’8”. Very skinny, mainly due to a poor diet. Wavy dirty blonde hair, tends to grow it out or cuts it short depending on his mood. Purple eyes. Front tooth gap.

Kenny's been working overtime while attending school since middle school. He gets paid under the table for most of it.

He saved up just enough to buy a really run down, beat up, used car. It's a stick shift and requires a ton of repairs.

He learned a lot about mechanics in order to save money and not have to take it anywhere to get fixed.

He learned how to drive stick shift and how to fix a car through YouTube.

He takes and picks up Karen from school. He also pays for all of her school supplies and encourages her to pick up extracurriculars.

Kenny doesn't have to study in order to get good grades in school. He barely has to do his homework either. As long as he listens to the lectures and skims through the material, he’ll pass. If he didn’t work overtime then he would be highly ranked in their year.

Kenny barely sleeps 4 hours a day. 5 on a good day.

He plans to keep working at the same pace and go to a trade school. Once he is more settled and his sister is an adult able to stand on her own, he might go back to school but he doesn't really stress about it and prefers living day by day then worrying about the future.

⋆｡°✩Leopold Butters Scotch:

5’9”. Lanky. Light blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

Works while attending school. Is very good at saving money.

Bought his own car at 16. Very safe driver with the occasional outburst of road rage.

Bought his own gaming PC. It's Hello Kitty themed. His favorite games are Animal Crossing and Hello Kitty Island Adventure.

Does very well in school.

Tutors others in his free time.

Volunteers to read for preschoolers at the community library.

Works as a summer camp counselor during the summers.

Cartman copies his homework when he isn't looking.

Part of the Board Game club and the Cheerleading squad.

Still gets grounded by his parents a lot but plans to live in College dorms soon.

Misc.

⋆｡°✩Clyde is part of the football team and basketball team. Sports are his bread and butter. He doesn't do well academically. Cry baby. Is on and off with Bebe.

⋆｡°✩Craig is captain of the space club. Wants to become an astronaut. Has been consistently dating Tweek ever since getting shipped by the Asian girls.

⋆｡°✩Tweek works at his dad's coffee shop while attending school. It has become a bit of a hub for the kids to hang out so it's doing well and he gets paid well. Is great at saving money. Loves playing DnD and really gets into character. Attends the space club with Craig.

⋆｡°✩Tolkien is a star student. Plays basketball, football, and is in the student council. Has dated Nichole, Wendy, Stan, and Clyde. None of his relationships ever end poorly. Is friendly with everyone. Is arguably the most popular, well liked kid in school.

⋆｡°✩Bebe is bisexual and has dated a few of the girls when off with Clyde. Clyde has no game however and barely dates anyone when they are broken up. She's part of cheerleading, volleyball, and the yearbook club. She's a minor influencer online, focusing on fashion, beauty, feminism, and human rights.

⋆｡°✩Wendy and Kyle constantly compete for valedictorian. She's captain of the debate team, cheerleading squad (Bebe vice captain), and volleyball team (Nichole vice captain). Stan and her have almost consistently dated with some hiccups here and there. They don't break up as often as Clyde and Bebe but when they have, she's dated Tolkien and Bebe briefly. She volunteers in a multitude of different organizations and feels very passionate about every cause she takes up. Has a substantial following on Twitter where she's very vocal about her beliefs.

[hard-core-super-star]

my ears fill with the sound of you kneeling [K.Bishop]

pairing: sub!kate bishop x dom!reader

summary: you and your girlfriend explore a slightly unconventional form of comfort after you catch her slipping into her self-destructive tendencies again.

warnings: smut -> minors and god look away [literally just porn with feelings…like a LOT of feelings; petplay/puppyplay; vibrator use; humping/grinding; finger sucking; a touch of overstimulation; kate exploring her submissive side while R tries to guide her through it]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: i was working on a few requests and then i blacked out and wrote this whole thing instead. i'm sorry [but also, you're welcome :)] i have nothing else to say for myself, enjoy. [we'll be back to our regularly scheduled wholesome hailee steinfeld programming next week]

* * * * * * *

“I can explain.”

Those words never mean anything good, especially when they come from the mouth of a certain stubborn archer. A stubborn archer you happen to be very much in love with.

You sigh the second her words reach your ears, making sure to count down from five before turning away from the fridge to face her. You’re not sure what you’re expecting to find but you’re sure expecting it wouldn’t have helped much anyway.

Kate stands in front of you, her face littered with small (badly bandaged) cuts and noticeable bruises forming on her gorgeous face.

The purple suit she wears whenever she goes out on “Avengers business” (as she likes to call it) hides the damage you’re sure has been done to her body. You don’t know whether to yell at her or ask her if she’s okay.

Ultimately, you do neither and instead, walk away before you say something you’ll regret. Just because your girlfriend happens to be a very powerful and stupidly reckless superhero doesn’t mean you have to like it. You’ve learned a lot about the brunette since you started dating her and sometimes that information was more of a curse than a blessing.

“y/n, wait!” She calls out before following after you like a lost puppy. “Just hear me out.”

“Hear you out?” You scoff. “Why? So you can lie to me and tell me you’re totally okay when we both know the truth?”

The lack of response tells you everything you need to know.

She’s slipping again. Letting herself get caught up in fears and doubts that only make her act more reckless than usual. She’s not getting hurt because she’s unskilled or lacks proper training, she’s getting hurt because she wants to. Because she thinks she deserves it.

You hate that you understand where she's coming from. You're not a stranger to self-destructive tendencies but at least yours don't involve getting repeatedly punched in the face.

She follows you all the way into the bedroom and it’s not until you’re both in the safety of those four walls that her hand grips your wrist. You could escape her hold if you wanted to but you’re not angry enough for that. A part of you wishes you were so you didn’t have to look at the pain written all over her face as she turns you around to face her.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Please,” she says, taking a step closer. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

She's practically begging you and despite how badly you want to pretend tonight never happened, you catch a glimpse of the desperate look in her eyes. You don't think you've ever seen it before and yet you know exactly what it means.

Kate's begging for more than just your forgiveness right now.

You know you shouldn’t do it. You should tell her to take a shower and then climb into bed with her and help her recover from her mistakes. But your response slips out before you can stop it.

“Kneel.”

Your breath catches in your throat as she complies immediately with your command. A part of you had been expecting her to do it and yet it stuns you all the same.

You’ve never seen your girlfriend like this. Not only is this the most submissive she's ever been with you, but it’s also the most relaxed you’ve seen her since her destructive cycle started up again.

For the first time in weeks, the weight she carries on her shoulders every day disappears. There’s no shame, no regret, no pain in her eyes. Nothing but pure adoration and submission.

“Please,” she whispers. “I need you.”

Her words should be arousing, and in a weird way they are, but you can’t stop the waves of concern from crashing into you. You can tell she really does need this. Needs to let go of herself and have someone else take the wheel for once. But you’re not sure if that person should be you considering the way you’ve been treating her since she walked through the door.

You open your mouth to tell her that much but she’s quicker than you are. Her hand reaches out for yours and she holds your wrist tightly before bringing it closer to her mouth. You watch with wide eyes, barely able to breathe, as she slowly takes two of your fingers into her eager mouth.

The warm wetness that surrounds your digits is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. The vulnerability turns into intimacy right in front of your eyes and, even though you're nervous as hell about messing this all up for her, you let the moment envelop you until everything else fades away.

You know, deep down, you need this just as much as she does.

When you finally speak again, it's in a tone you've never used before, not with Kate, not with anyone but you seem to hit the nail right on the head considering the reaction you get out of your girlfriend. “Good girl. Is this what you need? To have your pretty mouth filled up and used?”

She whines in response, the sound coming out muffled yet desperate. It’s the closest she can get to confirming your suspicions in this state.

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of all the things you could do to her. Kate’s always been strong. Resilient in all aspects of her life, and it really would be so easy to push her to her breaking point. But you don’t want to do that. Not tonight. Not when you can see how much she needs to be both comforted and dominated.

You are a little upset with her still though so you decide to meet her halfway.

“Strip.”

You remove your fingers from her mouth once the command is out in the air, ignoring the whimper she lets out at the loss. You pretend to ignore the telltale sound of fabric rustling as she removes her clothes while you walk to the bedside table and take out a familiar wand vibrator.

Your steps are slow and deliberate once you decide to make your way back to her. It’s impossible for your eyes not to trail down her contradiction of a body. She’s full of toned muscles from years of archery and martial arts training and yet there’s an air of softness to her skin.

An air of warmth that seems to radiate from her even now. Even as bruises litter her torso and cuts nip at her soft thighs.

“You look so pretty on your knees for me, baby.”

She shakes her head although a small pink hue spreads along her face at your words. “Not baby.”

“No?” You ask as you come to a stop in front of her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up at you. “Then what are you?”

A beat of silence passes and you almost expect her to keep her desires to herself…until a single whisper falls from her inviting lips. The sound is so quiet you almost wonder if you imagined it.

“Puppy? Is that what my good girl wants to be for me? A cute little puppy?”

Your hesitation at using the name fades away the second Kate’s eyes light up at the sound of it. You’re not sure how long she’s kept this desire a secret from you but it’s merely another thing to add to the long list of reasons why you love her.

The look on her face is enough of a response but she still uses her words, clearly looking to keep being your good girl. “Yes, please.”

“Such a good puppy.” Your free hand comes down to pet the top of her head. You chuckle to yourself while she whines and presses up against the loving touch. “A little puppy like you needs to be trained. Do you think you can handle that, pup?”

She nods instantly and you know she’s placing all her trust in you. Trust that you’ll take care of her the way she needs right now. That you won’t leave her like so many before you.

“Stay like that, okay?” You reach over to grab a random pillow from the bed and place it between her legs.

Her hips buck forward before you even do anything. You coo at her, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head and positioning the vibrator on top of the pillow. You make her wait a few agonizing seconds before you switch the toy on.

The sound she lets out is more of a whine than a moan but neither of you mind too much. You move the toy around, making sure it’s pressed right against her clit and pretending you don’t notice the speed with which her wetness covers the vibrator.

You step back once you’re satisfied and the pout she gives you might just be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. “You have to be trained, remember, pup? No touching. If you want to cum, you’ll have to hump that vibe like the needy little puppy you are.”

A part of you thinks she’s going to complain about the rules you’ve set in place but then her face contorts in pleasure and you know her mind is too far gone for her to argue back.

There’s no better feeling for you right now than watching as your girlfriend lets herself go like this. There may be a lot of things the two of you need to talk about later but right now is all about helping her feel good. It’s about providing her with something she’s always wanted but never had.

You’re lost in a world of your own as your eyes hone in on the way she grinds her needy cunt against the toy. You could probably come undone from the mere sight but you’re not thinking about yourself right now.

“How’s that feel, puppy?”

You don’t expect her to be able to form words right now but she surprises you. “Good! Feels, oh- feels so good!”

“I’m glad. You deserve to feel good, pup.”

She half-whimpers, half-moans in response.

It only takes a few more moments for her movements to grow sloppy, a telltale sign that she's close to the edge.

“I’m gonna-” One quick look at your face causes her to change her words. “Please, please can I cum?”

You can’t hold back your smile as she asks for permission. “Yes. Go ahead and cum for me, puppy.”

She doesn’t leave you waiting for long. All it takes is a few more seconds of her humping the vibrator for her to fall apart. Your eyes widen slightly while you take in the enticing sight before you. The way her whines grow louder, the way her whole body trembles and her head flies back in pure ecstasy.

“y/n!” She cries out.

You’re there in an instant.

You’ve missed so many things, messed up even more, but you’re there when she needs you this time. There’s no hesitation in your movements, no other thoughts in your usually crowded mind except being the support beam your girlfriend desperately needs right now.

“It’s alright, you did so good for me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as your arms wrap around her trembling frame.

She slumps forward into you, incoherent mumbles and soft whimpers leaving her lips. The sight would be heartbreaking if you weren’t acutely aware of the way her hips continue to rock against the vibrator still snugly nestled against her sensitive cunt.

“Katie,” you mumble. “You can stop, darling. You don’t have to keep going.”

Even as the words escape you, you can tell she doesn’t want to stop. She’s sensitive and vulnerable and so, so needy.

“Please…” You can’t see her face but you can feel the desperation in her voice as her breath hits your neck.

You instantly pull her closer to you, whispering soft reassurances as your hand slowly slides down her body, teasing and caressing her overheated and battered skin. Her body trembles against yours and you feel her bury her face into the crook of your neck in search of some stability.

You’re happy to provide it for her, allowing her to hold on tightly to your arms despite the sting her nails leave behind on your skin.

Your fingers finally reach the buzzing toy and you grab onto the handle to lift it up and press it further into her dripping pussy. She reacts immediately, letting out muffled gasps of pleasure as she continues to grind against the overwhelming stimulation you’re providing her with.

“Shh, you’re okay.” You don’t know if your words register in her mind but you keep going anyway. “Such a good puppy letting me play with you like this.”

“Need…please…”

“I know, pup, I know. Just let go. Let me make you feel good.”

She was closer to the edge than you expected because those words are all it takes for her to fall apart again. Her grip on you tightens to the point of being painful but you don't dare move away from her.

You let out a soft sound of your own when you feel her wetness drip down onto the toy in your hand. You're sure your fingers are soaked with her release but you don't focus on anything except your shivering girlfriend.

“Good girl,” you whisper as you turn the vibrator off and move it away from her. “My good little puppy.”

You feel a different type of wetness hit your neck. You're not sure if the tears are from pleasure or pain but you comfort her all the same.

“It's alright, Katie, you're alright.”

The whimper you get in response tugs at your heartstrings enough to get your hand moving. It's a bit awkward considering the position you're both in but you manage to slip your fingers between your neck and her mouth.

It only takes a second for her to register what you're offering her. Her lips part and she takes your fingers into her mouth, moaning at the taste of herself that lingers on your soaked digits.

“Shh, I've got you. You're safe with me.”

You both know your words are true and a sense of calm settles into the air around you.

It's going to take a lot more than this moment of pleasure to help Kate out of the cycle she finds herself in but this is a good first step. And you intend to hold her as tight as this when you finally begin to navigate what comes next.

[valscigarette]

Summary: Val gets so overstimulated by his own prehensile dick that his demonic form comes out. inspired by this post by @shushposting!

Tags: Vox/Val, Val/Angel, Val/Velvette, Poly Vees, Dubious Consent, Overstimulation, Toxic Relationship, Smut

See AO3 or DM me for more detailed warnings!

WC: 7.9k | AO3

-

By now, Vox has the ritual down to a science. Every so often, just infrequently enough to avoid suspicion, he taps a couple drops of Velvette's love potion into Val's morning Four Loko and jumpstarts the program for his desktop camera feeds to follow Valentino for the day. It’s easy. Val never fails to leave his drink unattended at some point over breakfast and no attendant would dare point out Vox spiking his drink. Even Kitty, ever watchful, says nothing. 

“I'm busy today, just so you know,” Vox lies while Valentino curses out their toaster one morning. “Back-to-back meetings. Try not to have any emergencies.”

He pulls the bottle of potion from his pocket and draws up the usual two drop dose, leaving only a thin veneer of the glossy liquid at the bottom. It always amazes him how potent it is; the formula is derived from Val's own pheromones, after all. The love potion dissolves easily into the acidic drink, and, when a quick glance confirma Val is still fighting to get his bread back, Vox tips the remainder of the bottle in as well. It's hardly anything, he reasons. There's no sense in leaving so little behind. 

As he slips the empty container back into his blazer, Val turns around with a frown twisted across his face. “Vox, the fucking toaster is broken again!”

“Did you hear me? At all?” Vox asks, already getting up to assist with the not broken toaster. He leans into Val's space as he pulls the lever back up. It was knocked off track by Val's struggling, but his breakfast is salvageable and Vox can have the toaster replaced after the fact. “You're on your own today. Don't call me unless the tower is burning down.”

Once Vox plates up the toast, Val swans back to the table to spread spiked butter over it. Generally, Vox can't remember a second of the time he's known Valentino and seen him sober, and it no longer surprises him how much Val takes in a single day. So long as the studio keeps pumping out blockbusters and Val stays too high to notice a little extra kick in his drink, Vox is content to let him bury his days in a foggy quagmire of his own making. Val's less of a bitch the higher he is, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, your schedule’s tight, Papi's got more important things to do than me,” Val drawls. He slugs back a heavy gulp of his Four Loko and doesn't so much as twitch. “Tell me, Vox, when did you get so fucking boring?”

Vox takes one of Val's hands and rubs his knuckles, a charming grin cutting into his screen. “These meetings keep the lights on, babydoll.” His own face mirrors back at him hundreds of times in Val's compound eyes, dancing as his gaze shifts over the reflections. “If anything goes wrong, take it up with Velvette. I'm sure she'd be,” Vox stops, his fans whirring like an inhale to cool his rapidly heating processors, “happy to assist. Provided you leave her models alone.” He raises Val's hand to his screen for a kiss, and doesn't begrudge Val a flirtatious caress along the bottom of his screen as he pulls away. 

Val groans low in the back of his throat, but it's too early in the morning for him to put up much of a fight. He finishes his breakfast in relative peace, scrolling through Sinstagram, texting Angel Dust, and occasionally slurping his drink, none the wiser about how long the day ahead will be for him. Vox can barely contain himself long enough to see Val out the door of the kitchenette, still nursing his Four Loko as he lights a cigarette.

The second he can drop the pretense of his own standard morning routine, Vox zaps into the nearest security camera. The electrical currents carry him down to his office, where a set of screens on the right side of his desk follow Val through the hallways of Vee Tower exactly as planned. His day is empty. There are no meetings. All Vox has to attend to is his own libido as he watches the love potion slowly rip Val’s self control to pieces. 

Its effects first make themselves known on the elevator to the studio. A simple twitch is all it is. Val looks down at his crotch, mildly surprised by the semi, but overall nonplussed as he finishes the last of his drink. He’s probably watching porn on his phone, Vox thinks, and can blame the early tinges of arousal on it. 

Valentino bursts into the studio like a model entering a runway, his wings a cape and his smoke a dramatic cloud, and the plain irritation on his face only enhances the beauty of his harsh angles. One of Vox’s cameras, outfitted with a zoom lens, closes in on the shape of his cock trapped in his tight white bell bottoms. Shifting shadows hint that the eager thing is already squirming, probably mere minutes from plunging into Val's own hole to sate its drug induced need. Vox cups himself in sympathy, stroking his thumb along the length of his bulge. 

“Angel,” Val hisses. His gravelly voice carries across the studio, distracting Angel Dust from the makeup artist turning a black eye into a smokey shadow look. “I need to see you in your dressing room.”

With a flurry of assurances to the cosmetician, Angel follows Val to his dressing room, unable to get a single questioning word past his lips before Val bends him over his vanity, yanks down his panties, and shimmies his own pants down just enough to let his swollen, prehensile dick out. The side angle from a visible security camera is perfect for admiring it until Val hunches over Angel, guiding himself into place and humming in pleasure as the slut beneath him squeaks. At that, Vox switches to a hidden camera among Angel’s makeup brushes, which allows him to watch Val’s tongue loll out and antennae quiver as he pounds Angel so hard the vanity dents the drywall.

“Fuck, fuck, Val,” Angel whimpers, scrabbling for purchase against the smooth glass top until Val pins all four of his wrists with two hands of his own. “Val, please, I’m gonna-”

Val shoves his head down against the vanity to shut him up, evidently not in the mood to hear his begging. “Just a couple minutes,” he coos, barely audible to the microphones in the room over the wet slap of his balls against Angel’s ass. “You can take it.”

None of the cameras are positioned appropriately for Vox to see the bulge Val is undoubtedly making in Angel’s stomach, but he can forgive it when this is hardly going to be Valentino’s last orgasm of the day. It’s just his first. Watching Val’s thrusts lose rhythm, Angel’s eyes cross, convinces Vox to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove his slacks down to his knees. He knows he has all the time in the world to take care of himself. 

Angel doesn’t finish, but does keen in at an obnoxious pitch when Val does. A rich, velvety moan accompanies the final few thrusts, each hard enough to bruise and pushing more jizz to spill down Angel’s quaking thighs. Moments later, he's still panting and shivering when Val pulls out to continue jerking his now glistening cock, either unwilling or unable to stop pleasuring himself as Angel weakly pulls against the hands still pinning him in place. 

“Clean yourself up before the shoot,” Val snaps. Coming has done nothing for him, and he must realize the sort of day he’s in for. “If we fall behind schedule because you’re a disgusting cumslut, I’ll make you regret it, Angelcakes.”

“Got it, Val,” Angel hiccups.

As soon as Val lets go of him, he stumbles out of the dressing room to get to the studio shower. Left alone, Valentino plops down on the couch and lets his head fall back. The whir of Vox’s cameras zooming in on him must get his attention, because he opens one eye and bares his teeth. 

“Thought you were too busy for me,” he bitches, legs twitching apart as he pets a vein down the side of his cock, visibly trying to keep its interest in his hand so it doesn’t go searching for something better, like Val’s dripping pussy behind it. 

In answer, Vox strokes himself faster and waits for Val to realize he can’t walk out into the studio touching himself like a desperate pervert. No one’s coming to help him out with his little problem, and nothing would help anyway except to let the love potion run its course. 

“You better not be saving this to your spank bank, Voxxy,” Val spits, his back arching as his writhing dick finally escapes his grasp and presses into his hole. “You ffffuck- fucking asshole.”

After a few indulgent minutes, he clenches his fists, wipes the sweat off his brow, and eases his pants back up his hips, though their tightness does little to obscure the lewd act happening beneath. His staff ought to know better than to acknowledge it, though, when Valentino perches in his director’s chair with his legs crossed and calls action. 

For the first half of the day, Val puts up an admirable fight against the overstimulation of being fucked by his own dick non-stop. He disguises his several orgasms behind cursed insults and bites so deep into the heel of his hand that his teeth come away dark with blood. Vox doesn’t get himself off as he watches, but occasionally manages to get a few emails sent off when Val gets himself together enough to complain about the costumes or the performances. 

Vox knows things are getting interesting when Val calls for a lunch break. The mere idea is laughable, unless one happens to know it’s an excuse to clear the set so he can handle whatever meltdown possesses him on a given day. Practically the second he’s alone, Val calls Vox.

It takes a lot of willpower, but Vox lets it ring all the way to voicemail, eyes locked on the obscene movement in Val’s visibly soaked pants. He doesn’t answer the second time either. He also doesn’t feel guilty when Val throws his phone into a wall out of pure frustration. After all, Vox did warn him he would be too busy to help today.

“You little shit,” Val whines in the general direction of a camera, wobbly, like he might cry. “You can’t leave me like this Vox, get your flat fucking ass up here and help me!”

Truly, Vox calls Velvette out of the kindness in his heart. She answers for him right away, her end of the line chaotic with the background of her workshop, though she’s pristinely put together herself. “What, Vox?”

“I gave Val some love potion this morning,” he tells her, politely maintaining a high enough camera angle so as not to flash her with his own body or Valentino’s. “Great work on that formula by the way, my dear.” She grins with the compliment, a perfect opportunity for Vox to offer, “He could use a break if you’re up for it.”

Her smile drops as quickly as it appeared. “I’m not playing ring-around-the-cock-cage,” she snarks.

“Of course not.” Vox placates her by texting over a link to his live feeds of Valentino. “But I know you like him all pathetic, so I thought I’d give you a go.”

Velvette harrumphs and considers his proposition, before relenting with a long-suffering sigh as if he’s asked some gargantuan favor of her by offering up an overstimulated, submissive Valentino on a platter. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

“Whatever you please, darling,” he says. “Your wish is my command. Now, go put on a show, I’ll be watching.”

“Nasty prick.”

She flips him off, face wrinkled in faux-disgust before hanging up the call. On looking back at his screens, Vox finds Val spread out on the studio floor, massaging the base of his dick that isn’t buried in his pussy, back arched at the overwhelming sensations. The deep v of his low-cut shirt falls open as he thrashes to occasionally show one of his heart-shaped nipples, pierced and nearly as flushed as his cheeks with excitement. It takes minutes for Velvette to appear, but they drag on forever when Vox has such a delectable sight to enjoy.

“Come on, Val,” Velvette says, her voice ringing out before the cameras catch her walking up to his prone form on the ground. “You shut down the whole studio for this?” she asks. One of her sharp heels kicks Val’s hand away from his crotch, allowing her a better view of his situation. “This is embarrassing for you. You seriously can’t control your needy dick long enough to get through the day?”

To his credit, Val manages to speak between the wet hitches of his breath. “It’s not my fault,” he spits out. Excess drool puddles around his lips and tongue, slurring his speech. “I can’t make it stop, and fucking Vox won’t pick up his phone!” He lifts his hips toward Velvette but she backs away before he can touch her.

“If you only want Vox, then…” Velvette teases.

In an instant, Val is falling over himself to take it back, practically snapping his neck with how quickly he springs up on his knees. “No, princesa, I’m happy to see you!” Vox’s cock leaks at the desperation in Val's tone, the tremor in his hands as he claws up the hem of Velvette’s skirt. “Don’t go. Daddy’ll make it worth your while, don’t you worry your pretty head-”

“Shut up,” Velvette interjects. “Just- take your pants off and try not to make a fucking mess.” 

She helps Val kick off his shoes so they can strip away his bottoms, exposing him to the cold studio air. Several of Vox's cameras whirr as they focus on the million dollar view of Val's mindless, almost tentacle-like cock cruelly fucking him past him past the oversensitivity. Oh, he's going to be crying before Velvette finishes with him. 

The morning's buildup of tension surges in Vox's stomach as Velvette straddles Valentino, perfectly positioned to grind against the base of his cock and fondle his pretty nipples. A chirping trill breaks from his mouth when she pinched one between her fingers. “If you want a break,” she huffs, “we have to work for it. You know that, babes.”

Val moans a few slurred words that sound enough like an agreement for Velvette to slice off her panties to get them out of the way. Later, she'll absolutely invoice Vox their cost. At present, his cameras perfectly capture her sopping pussy rutting against Valentino. They're set to record automatically when he runs the program tracking Val, but he has to double check that he'll be able to watch the two of them forever. Velvette's exquisite heat is enough to tempt Val's cock out of himself and into her as well, giving Vox yet another gorgeous shot to obsess over for weeks before it plunges into her.

“Goddammit, Valentino!” she yelps, digging her nails into his chest. 

At the same time, Val's hips jerk up to help him bury his dick in her cunt, the poor thing helplessly repeating “Thank you Velvette, thank you, thank you,” like he's forgotten how to say anything else. Dozens of cameras strewn about the studio give Vox every shot he could want, including a down-angled lens that lets him see both the place where Val disappears onto Velvette, and Val's swollen pussy that twitches every time he bottoms out in her. Pearls of come bead from between his lips and drip to the floor, and it's the realization of how much Val has already come that pushes Vox over the edge. 

He's alone, but still bites the inside of his cheek to quiet his moan as he spills over his hand, the suddenness of it only intensifying the sensations. On screen, Val has found the perfect angle to drive fucked out little “ah”s from Velvette's painted lips on every thrust. His legs betray him. They kick out, restless and useless, a perfect tell that he's past his limit by midday. 

“So perfect, so fucking tight,” Val praises. His lower set of hands find purchase on her hips to aid each fluid motion and the pressure makes Velvette groan. “My pretty dolly.”

“Please shut the fuck up,” she snarls. “I'll cut this thing off and hang it like a trophy in my office, don't test me.”

Contrary to her intentions, this drags another breathless orgasm from him, noticeable only from her offended gasp and the cum frothing around his cock as he continues fucking her. “Y-you can have it, amor,” he chokes out, “it'll grow back.”

“You wish. It's the only worthwhile thing about you.” Velvette's cruelty always impresses Vox, and strikes one of Val's many kinks. “Now hurry up and get me off, I have actual work to get done today.”

When it takes him too long to work up the coordination, she grabs the upper hand not somehow still clinging to his cigarette holder, spits on his slender fingers, and forces it into place so that she can still grind her clit into his palm even if he goes limp beneath her. Their hands make the swell in Velvette's lower stomach look even more obscene, visibly twitching as Val's devilish cock moves inside her. 

“Finally. For a porn overlord, you're useless with a pussy, you know.” Her words don't match the climbing urgency of her motions, but do fit Val's downright sloppy rhythm that he'll be ashamed of when Vox plays this back for him later. “Vox fucks me better.”

“You fucking bitch!” Val cries. 

Although Vox planned on waiting a while for his next round, Velvette's hard-earned praise has him shifting in his seat with pavlovian interest. In his second of distraction, the slight enrages Val enough to flip himself and Velvette over with a heavy thud. The cameras fuzz with the power radiating off him, not long enough for Vox to register it as anything more than his own malfunctioning systems as he wraps a hand around himself once more. 

Velvette moans under Valentino, who has found the energy to put his back into each harsh thrust and growl, “I'll show you who fucks better.”

The spurt of jealousy surpasses his exhaustion and frustration enough for Val to drill her into the floor, each motion rhythmic and punishing in the way only a professional cam achieve, one of his many hands busy circling her clit between them.

“I can do this all day, Mami.” Every time Val thrusts into her, Velvette slides up the marble floor, until she wraps her legs around his waist for purchase. “All-” he interrupts himself with a whine, “all night, too.”

He's fucking her too hard for Velvette to get out a response, but her wordless moans say enough. She probably meant to rile him up. It worked beautifully, and Vox files away a mental note to buy her the most extravagant gift basket in the entire Pride ring tomorrow. Beads of sweat roll down Val's back like invitations for Vox's tongue, and each whimper in symphony with Velvette beckons him to join them but he promised himself he'd wait. It'll be so much better to deal with Val tonight after an entire day of this.

“Mi princesa.” Val's voice is equal parts breathless and honey-sweet, as saccharine as his dopamine riddled drool that Vox can see soaking stains into Velvette's top. “So beautiful, you, shit, you drive me fucking crazy.”

She doesn't reply so much as arch into him, nails digging into his skin once more and drawing enticing furrows of blood down the expanse of his back, mean tips of her heels beating bruises into either side of his spine with each vicious thrust. On another day, when they have the time, Vox could easily spend hours watching the two of them fuck like they're fighting. Today he only has one goal. 

“Don't stop,” Velvette gasps. Her body has gone mostly pliant beneath Val, drowning in the sensation too much to keep giving as good as she gets. “Fucking hell-”

Val presses himself as tightly against her as he can when he comes. His muscles seize, thrown in perfect relief under the calculated, cold studio lights, then go lax as he collapses in a gaggle of uncoordinated limbs on top of her. Still, his cock keeps working on its own. Judging by her whimpers, Vox missed Velvette's orgasm under the beauty of Val's, though he doesn't mind when she's still exhaling pleased groans every couple seconds. 

“Okay, that's enough,” she sighs. 

Muffling his voice in her shoulder isn't enough to disguise Valentino's sob. 

“Cut it out,” Velvette tells him, sharper this time, and shoves at Val's shoulders until he props himself up enough for her to wiggle from beneath him. Her biggest challenge is getting away from his ruthless cock, relentlessly trying to pound into her, but the advantage of being a separate person allows her to get back to her feet as Val's two excessive loads of spend drip down her legs.

Without the reprieve she grants, it takes seconds for Val's dick to find its way back to his hole. His legs collapse almost immediately. The tears come back full force when Val falls on his ass, overcome by his own rare disinterest with sex and the prospect that, like Vox, Velvette will make him deal with his libido on his own. 

“Please don't go,” Val trills, unironically crawling across the floor to Velvette because his legs must be useless. Vox earmarks this section of the footage too. It’s not often he gets to see Val in a state so desperate, so soon. “I’ll do whatever you want! Anything for mi princesa, my beautiful Vel, always so good to me and Vox.” He reaches her inches from the doorway, clumsily petting whatever parts of her he can reach in the distraction of his nonexistent refractory period. If he notices her pushing his hands away, he doesn’t care, continuing to offer, “as much head as you want, my face was fucking made for sitting on,” with no appreciation for her waning patience.

“Piss off!” she finally shouts, kicking Val away with a heel to the chest that will surely bruise.

Now that seduction has failed, Val growls at a pitch subaudible to most sinners, and somehow draws himself up on wobbly, fawn-like legs. He hardly looks threatening, still at the mercy of his own traitorous body, but Vox still snaps screenshots off every camera. “Do you know how many bitches would kill to breathe the same air as me?” If he expects to frighten Velvette into submission, Valentino has another thing coming. “You don’t get to abandon me like this, amorcita.”

“Funny,” Velvette sniffs, “I don’t actually care.”

Before he can issue another empty threat, Velvette whips out her cell phone to take several crisp, high-definition shots that Vox knows he’ll want framed even before they upload to the crowd. Thousands of pixels catch all the glory of Val’s wrecked state: his fur matted by a mixture of his own fluids, Velvette’s, and Angel’s; his cheeks flushed so bright he looks made up; his mouth slack with a suffering that could easily be mistaken for pleasure; his cock a noticeable fiend blurred by its motion. Oh, Vox could kiss Velvette right now. Instead he rewards himself by speeding up his jerking off.

“Interrupt my work day, Val, see what I do with these,” she taunts, waving around her spoils. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Val roars, though he doesn’t make any move to take her phone or stop her from leaving. “Fucking ungrateful, irritating cocktease!” As Velvette exits the studio, his shouting follows her down the corridor, all the way to the elevator. “You’re dead, princesa! FUCKING DEAD!”

She laughs as the elevator doors close.

Vox happily returns his attention to Val, who cannot distract himself forever by fussing at someone who’s not on the same level of the building anymore. The brief reprieve for his overworked pussy seems to have made things worse, reducing Val to a weeping mess as his surge of adrenaline wanes and he fights to get to the set bed before his knees give out beneath him. Honestly, Vox couldn’t have designed this better himself. The studio is the perfect place for Val to take repose as his own cock relentlessly wrecks him. 

He drags a pillow to his face and bites it to muffle the sobbing moans that return with a vengeance now that Val is giving into the helpless state he’s found himself in. What a pretty picture he paints, a magnificent masterpiece of debauchery that makes Vox understand the appeal of the sloppy scenes Val shoots all day. They’d make millions if he wasn’t such a priss about losing control of his dick, because the Sistine Chapel itself couldn’t compare to the tableau Val presents on days like these.

Another orgasm wrenches a scream from Val’s throat, his limbs jerking and the wet spot beneath him on the bed spreading faster than his legs on any-damn-day of the week. Vox has to congratulate himself, as Val’s crying turns to borderline hyperventilating, on picking such delightful business partners. Nothing in Hell compares to this, nor could it come close. And it’s all for him. He knows Val is waiting for Vox to come fix his problem, as always, and it’s a heady power the demon would never consider allowing anyone else except for maybe Velvette- who wouldn’t have put Love Potion in Val’s Four Loko this morning, but might’ve been more sympathetic if she didn’t get off on her participation in Vox’s scheme.

“Vooox,” Val whimpers, hardly discernible through the pillow and its feathery bite wound. The allure of his name in that voice has Vox leaning forward in his chair and squeezing the base of his cock so he doesn’t come from the acknowledgement alone. “Vox…?”

He switches his main camera, a few feet away but in need of an adjustment he knows Val will catch the motion of, given the wanton way he looks at the sea of cameras around him. All it takes a small movement, a few inches to angle the lens higher, and Val lets out a defeated laugh. 

“You, mmm, motherfucker,” he giggles, or perhaps sobs. Vox can see every tear to drip down Val’s face, but there’s a humorous bend to his tone like he reaches when he’s grasping at straws for any semblance of control. It typically takes him all day to break this far, but Vox did tip extra into his drink to empty the bottle, and he can’t find it in himself to fault Val for his own mistake. Not when it turns out this well, that is. “Better be coming to help me, or I’ll- I’ll-”

Vox zaps into his desk and reemerges from the camera he fixed. All the footage runs in the background of his processors, but he won’t complain about the chance to see Val up close. His screens, no matter how high definition, can't capture the scent of sweat, smoke, and cum permeating the air, or the sound of the silk sheets rasping against the waterproof cover beneath them.

“Aw, Val,” he teases, crackling with all the faux-sugar that normally falls under his partner’s purview. “You’ll what?”

Anything coherent disappears into Val’s crying. From the edge of the mattress, Vox can run his claw-tipped hands up Val’s strong thighs, nudging them further apart for a better look at his predicament. The skin on his cock is as pink and raw as his pussy by now from his fruitless attempts at shutting down his libido, as if he truly believed that a go at anyone else would be enough to stifle his need. 

“You’re no better than the rest of your whores, poor thing,” Vox tuts. He sinks into the bed enough to nearly lose his balance when he climbs on, but quickly braces himself with one hand on Val’s ass and the other on his lower back, between his bottom set of shoulder blades. Faintly sparkling sweat sticks to him, a side effect of the potion. But the barest contact drives Val wild, bucking as if he’s not sure whether he wants the attention he’s been demanding or if even Vox’s comparatively innocent touch is beyond the pail. “I can’t wait to show you all the footage later. Don’t worry- I probably won’t release it.” He squeezes Val’s ass to make him shudder. “This is just for me, right, honey?”

Val nods, trembling like he might be close again. “One more, then…?”

He sounds so pathetic, so tired, that Vox might’ve felt bad for him if he wasn’t leaking through his slacks. “Dunno about that. Your cage’s down in my room, and, honestly,” Vox trails off, shifting to pin Val’s legs with his own to stop them from twitching shut, “you already shut down the studio, and I’m not marking today as a loss.”

He knows well enough that his fingers alone won’t be enough to coax Val’s dick out of place, but he still traces the swollen point of connection where it disappears into his cunt, constantly rolling and grinding with more mechanical precision than Vox’s best designed machines. The joke really is on whatever God stuck them down here: nothing could be more heavenly than this.

“Do you know how many times you’ve come today?” Vox asks. “I counted a round dozen, but I might’ve missed some.” He rocks his hips into Val, which is barely satisfying, but nonetheless triggers his cooling fans to top speed and wires a shock over his body. “What’s your single-day record, anyway? It’s higher than twenty, if I remember correctly.”

The implicit warning breaks through to Val. He shoves the pillow away and fights to prop himself up enough to tearfully beg, “Don’t, Papi, I can’t.”

“Sure you can!” With little more effort than swatting a fly, Vox summons his cables to encircle Val’s wrists and ankles, each pulled flat to the bed until the moth is spread out for him and unable to wiggle more than a couple inches in any direction. In the chaos, he runs a quick records search as well. “You did twenty-four, one on each hour, for a New Year’s special a couple decades back. But you’re not the record-holder.” Vox abandons him on the bed. “That would be your pet project, Angel Dust. Last Valentine’s Day, you got a round thirty out of him. We never released it, but I’ve got it all on camera in case we decide to.” He pats Val’s ankle affectionately. “You’re not letting that whore outdo you.”

“Vox.”

Pretending not to hear him, Vox finds Val’s director’s chair to drag over for a better view. Nothing changes in the moments his back is turned, but he can’t stand to miss a moment of the best show of Val’s career--especially not when he finds the seat of the chair still damp. 

“Calm the fuck down,” Vox assures once he’s perched at the foot of the bed, studying Val like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory in case his cameras fail. “Like you said, you were made for this. Cry all you want, sweetheart. I’m not here to help you.”

Either Val is worked up to the point that words are enough to send him into yet another orgasm, or Vox’s timing was perfect to the instant. It’s a victory either way. As Val babbles into the sheets, his wings begin to flutter and struggle too with the inescapable stimulation. Vox can’t strip his suit away fast enough, probably should have stripped it off before he came, but the combination of his dizzying hard-on and the pure filth of Val laid out in front of him make the layers unbearably warm.. 

“Fuck, if you could see yourself, Val.” Vox can’t decide whether it’s better to finish himself off now, and last longer when he gets around to fucking Val later, or if he should draw each climax out to its highest potential before letting himself enjoy them. “I’ve been nice. I always come to help when you can’t get ahold of yourself.” Choppy wheezing is music to his ears. “I’ve earned a front row ticket here, don’t you think? Raise those hips a little.” When Val doesn’t so much as try to move, he uses the cables to rearrange him like a doll. “Let Daddy see. Don’t tell me you’re shy now; you look gorgeous.”

Val gags on the length of his useless, slimy tongue, and slurs unintelligibly. The change in angle is enough to let the searching tip of his cock probe that much deeper, wrenching a broken scream from his throat as he seems to come again, even if his shriveled balls are too empty to pump any more jizz out: another moment Vox bookmarks. 

“There’s thirteen, baby. Just eighteen more to go.”

Something in Val breaks and he struggles with renewed vigor. For all the times Vox has encouraged his favorite little interruption, he’s never dosed out this much in one sitting, and as the air thickens with demonic power, he wonders if he may have pushed Val too far this time. Funny, considering Vox hasn’t even made him cum that many times yet; they have longer sessions than this before breakfast, some days. 

“Vox, Papi, pleeease,” Val crows, pulling hard enough for one of his shoulders to dislocate with a bright pop. He’s a real mess. A flap of his wings generates enough wind to knock over a couple of cameras but still does nothing to save him, which is no one’s fault but his own, because it’s not technically Vox’s responsibility to help him cage his naughty tentacle of a cock. “Can’t do it. Help me, Vox, please.” He gulps for breath before rubbing his face into the blankets to wipe away snot and tears, sniveling, “Please, you have to.”

The safe move would be to wrap this up and defuse the rising tension in Val’s body, like it’s waiting to explode into something far deadlier, but Vox is used to riding the line of too close to the sun. “I don’t have to do jackshit. I do whatever the fuck I want: which, right now, is to watch you,” he sends a lovetap of a shock toward Val’s thigh, “break the Vee Tower orgasm record.”

Val’s responding screech echoes back off the studio walls. In a heartbeat, the bunching muscles of his back bulk and his slobbery tongue lengthens.

“Shit,” Vox mutters. He has moments before Val snaps through the cables like paper chains, quickly rescinding them to spare the extra sparks that are certain to incense the monster before him more. “Val, baby.” Racking his servers for the right words to talk Val down, he finds himself too overloaded to move. As Valentino morphs into his full demonic body, his dick never hesitates in its quest to mold its owners cunt to its exact shape, though the second phallus--one Vox somehow always forgets he has--growing from Val’s pelvis is easily occupied by one of Val’s expert handjobs. 

Whatever biological process generates Val’s aphrodisiac fluids kicks into overdrive, causing his saliva to cascade down his chin and chest, while his slick coats his legs. An extra pair of arms stretches in tandem with the first two as Val’s form grows to dwarf the bed he previously spread out on. In his presence, all the air seems to thin, leaving nothing but the siren’s call of his pheromones, strong enough to make it through the precise filters of Vox’s systems. 

“What’s the matter, amorcito?” His purr resonates through Vox’s chest and vibrates the walls of the building, while the subtle hums and trills he makes are finally loud enough to be heard without Vox cranking his audio sensitivity far higher than is reasonable. “You have a record to break.”

A panicked laugh echoes from Vox’s speakers, filling the room as easily as Val’s voice. “I was joking. You know, how we sometimes laugh at each other’s expense.”

“I get it now.”

Val’s arms shoot out to grab Vox before he knows what’s happening. It feels as if he teleported into Valentino’s embrace, face buried in his chest and still embarrassingly hard dick pressed against his second cock. Being this close puts the size into perspective; Vox couldn’t wrap both hands around it, let alone one, and its length makes him queasy, both attributes that set him against having it this close to him, let alone pressed against him, groin to ribs, like a threat. 

“Let’s be reasonable, dear,” Vox says. Static cuts through his voice, his face, in a betrayal almost worse than his own behavior this morning. “It would rip me in half.”

That tongue, endless and curious as the dick squirming against Vox’s stomach, caresses his body and drenches him in rosy spit. Several errors pop up at once, but he still hears Val murmur, “You’ll get over it.”

“Val. Val, come on.” One of Val’s hands trails through the viscous fluid and smears it down to Vox’s ass. Slender fingers circle his hole, massaging the drool into it and relaxing the muscle with unnatural ease. Vox’s only coherent thought is that it must have a different chemical makeup than the standard stuff. “No. Val-”

Val forces two fingers in. It should hurt, but instead it shoves Vox’s protests from his mind as his body falls limp into Valentino, and he barely notices the hasty addition of a third finger. Though they both know Val is an expert at both prep and fingering for the hell of it, he’s sure the cursory glance against his prostate is an accident because the bastard won’t touch it again. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter, because Val only spends a couple minutes perfunctorily working Vox open before his impatience wins out. Three of his hands--the fucker has too many--lift Vox to position him with the tip of Val’s massive cock kissing his woefully underprepared hole. 

“Val,” Vox entreats in a final desperate attempt, flaring his brightness to its maximum as his eye begins to spin, “you’re not putting that in me.”

He doesn’t get a second of control. Val laughs at him, and begins to press Vox down. Although the tip is flared, it’s still painfully wide from the get-go, and reflex-tears spring up with the first quarter inch. He bluescreens at the half and comes to at the quarter. He’s barely on Val at all and swears he can feel it in his throat with how full he already is.

“Nnn- Not gonna fit,” he chokes.

“Does it hurt?” Val coos, not that he cares. “You’re plenty wet, Papi.”

Vox shakes his head. “No. But I’m fucking full, ‘s not fitting.” The fact that it should hurt doesn’t cross his conscious mind.

“Not with that attitude, it’s not.” A haze of smoke comes on Val’s next exhale, and another one of his endless hands tilts Vox’s screen up so it seeps into his ventilation system. Another wave of warmth, of need, rolls through him in response and he loosens up enough to drop further onto Val’s impossible cock, and feedback squeals at them both in response. “You’re goddamn lucky the other one’s too busy for you, Voxxy.” Fuck, Val’s voice seems to be coming from everywhere, darkly continuing, “or I’d stuff you so full, you’d be in Velvette’s workshop for a fucking month.”

If Vox’s speakers aren’t blown, they're at least broken, judging by the constant static whine as Val works him further onto his cock. When the ridge of the head finally pops in, Vox spasms as he blurts precum into Val’s abs “Fuck, fuck, too much.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Clearly mocking or not, Val’s voice seems to soothe Vox’s panic as he absorbs more and more of his toxins. “You’re thinking too hard, amorcito.” One by one, Val’s supportive hands let go, leaving Vox at the far lesser mercy of gravity to impale him on his cock. Of course one finds its way back to Vox’s wrists, to prevent him from holding himself up as a defense, and the one holding his screen never moves, but Val achieves his goal of defeating any chance Vox has left of escape as his dick explores to the best of its ability inside him.

At the point Vox thinks another millimeter will cause a crash so hard it takes all of Hell out with him, Val’s body locks up again as he orgasms, no longer too empty to flood Vox with burning, intoxicating cum. There’s too much for him to hold. It presses ruthlessly against his prostate and makes his stomach cramp even as it spills out around Valentino like a fountain.

Vox’s finish pales in comparison, pathetically small when the fullness drags it out of him alongside a glitching moan, though several lights shatter overhead and a rogue shock momentarily freezes Val in place. His system panics and bluescreens once more to prevent a crash, but he boots back up quickly enough that Val is still whimpering his way through the aftershocks. 

“O-okay,” Vox gets out, “that’s enough.”

But he’s still slowly sinking down on Val’s cock with no hope of escape when Valentino sighs, “But we’re only a third of the way there.” At least Val relinquishes his screen, but it’s to press against the bulge in Vox’s tummy with a gusto that makes him simultaneously spurt out a few more drops of cum and gag so hard he tastes bile. “See? Plenty of room, Papi.”

“It’s not- you can’t-”

Val suddenly moves, thrusting up to force himself deeper. “What was that?” Maybe it would be less overwhelming, to be stuffed so full, if Val’s cock wasn’t constantly moving like it’s mapping every square inch of Vox’s insides and will be tested on its findings later. He can’t catch his bearings long enough to have a coherent thought, let alone keep up a debate with Val. When he dares to look down, he can see the outline of it through his skin, rearranging his internal organs to make more room for itself. “Just a few more inches,” Val informs, like he’s not already pressing against parts of Vox that shouldn’t be reachable without dissection. 

Vox tries to say no, but a jumble of technical sounds and error beeps come out instead and Val just keeps pushing. There has to be more of dick inside him than anything else, or so he supposes until Val seizes and comes again. At this point there’s nowhere for it to go besides down what’s left of his cock outside Vox's body.  Val is too far gone to play the slow game and he continuously rabbits up into Vox, fucking him on two or three inches at a time with no regard for the consequences. 

The deepest thrust yet cracks something in Vox’s spinal cord and he loses connection to his left leg, but a complaint is too high a demand for him to fulfill when all he can think about is Val, Val, Val, in and around him, an inescapable fact of reality now. Nothing else matters. Nothing else compares. The complicated mesh of brain matter and AI that makes Vox could be rewiring themselves to dedicate his existence to being Val’s cocksleeve and, at this moment, he couldn’t give less of a shit if his soul depended on it. He can’t understand how Valentino complains about a pleasure so all-consuming as this one. 

As he’s questioning whether Val’s cock ever ends, or if it will keep coming until he bursts like an overfilled balloon, his ass meets the cradle of Val’s hips. “Not so bad is it?” Val simpers. Vox only manages to gurgle. His heart, his lungs, his everything feels flattened and pinned to allow for Val’s monstrous cock. Not only does it continuously rub against his prostate, but the sweeping arc of its movement alights sensitive spots Vox would have never known existed, otherwise. “Feels, ah, so fucking good, Voxxy. Other bitches die of shock before I get this far.”

Somehow that sentence worms its way into Vox’s consciousness like a compliment. No one else could handle Valentino in his full form, but Vox can, and he’s forgotten why he kicked up a fuss about allowing it now that he’s managed the impossible. To reward him, Val’s roaming hands are back. They stroke down his back, trace the bulge in his abdomen, tease his nipples, and work his oversensitive dick.

Val allows the independent movement of his cock to do the work rather than thrusting, which Vox has to remind himself comes from laziness and not any sort of care for the damage he’s capable of causing. Between their moans, the wet sound of Val’s cocks fucking them both fill the silence. 

Then Valentino comes inside him a third time, and whatever happens next is lost to a system crash that knocks out the entire city for several hours. 

Eventually, Vox wakes up on Velvette’s workshop table with his chest sliced open and her nimble little fingers nudging his ribs back into place. She must have turned off his pain sensors, but hadn’t gone to the trouble of washing the copious amounts of spend from his skin. Hardly any of his lower body was spared, and a flaky trail that starts on his screen, floods around his neck joint, and spills down his throat only ends a half-inch above Velvette’s incision.

She glances up at him when she sees his face appear but quickly returns to the task at hand. “Do not tell me how the hell this happened. I cleaned jizz out of places it should never be, Vox. Never.”

“I appreciate it, my dear,” he croaks. She hasn’t gotten to his voicebox yet. But when he wiggles his fingers and toes, they move without issue, which is an improvement over his last memory. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to put me back together; can you imagine Val trying to replace my liver?”

They share a laugh before Velvette reprimands him for moving while she’s working. “Trust me, you’ll want to leave the pain receptors off for a couple days, but don’t forget to take it easy. Val did a number on you this time.”

“Yeah, well.” Vox grumbles, “I told him it was a bad idea.”

She pushes the mechanism that replaces his diaphragm with more malice than necessary, drawing a neon blue bruise to its surface from the rough handling. “I can't fucking wait to watch the video on our next date night.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you about it?”

Velvette leans down to press a kiss to his exposed sternum. “I want you to show me instead.”

A lesser man than Vox would be embarrassed, but he merely grins in anticipation of reliving the memory with his partners in the days to come.

[brotherblaze]

weedkiller —miguel o'hara

summary: LYLA likes categorizing what you and Miguel have as 'too close to be friends' because Miguel doesn't let his friends make themselves at home in his office.

word count: 2,2k

warnings: n/a

a/n: thank you @starrysatoru for listening to me ramble about Miguel & lyla and all the other wips i infodump at you🥹

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Not now, LYLA.”

LYLA scrunches her nose at Miguel’s dismissal. She’s hovering over his shoulder while he’s discussing (more like lecturing) the matter of not letting a villain blow up the Parliament, no matter how shitty the British institution. Hobie doesn’t seem all that enthused about what Miguel thinks. Gwen just looks like she’s hoping for the ground to swallow her whole.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything interesting anyway,” LYLA cuts in with as much passive-aggressiveness as she can find in her code and makes a note to ask if it can be dialed up. “Just that Anti-Venom’s day ended like an hour ago.”

Miguel cuts himself off mid-sentence and his eyes shoot to the clock LYLA is oh-so helpfully projecting for him. She revels in seeing the panic blooming in his eyes, the stuttering of his vitals, and the subtle hitch in his breathing.

He’s beyond late to pick you up.

“Where are they now?” He’s scrambling for something. Something that doesn’t make it seem like he forgot. She can’t wait to see where this goes next.

“On the elevator.” LYLA jerks her head towards the door. This might be the closest thing to glee she’ll ever get to experience so she makes sure to soak up every moment. 

Miguel runs a hand down his face. The sigh that escapes him rattles his whole frame and she takes a snapshot of the moment to tuck away for the future.

“Call one of the reserved spider-bots. I want it up here ASAP.”

“Wow, you’re really buying their forgiveness with imported candy? Wanna get a white van while you’re at it, too?” She raises a brow, arms crossed over her chest like she hadn’t set a spider-bot on hold the moment Miguel first dismissed her. Because she’s an amazing assistant who gets her boss out of trouble.

“LYLA!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off like he’s a pest. She’d hauled ass to get those candies imported and now Miguel is using them as apology fodder because he dismissed LYLA’s routine reminder that your day was ending at exactly 5:45 PM.

Come next semester, she considers invading your university’s system and redoing the class schedules to maximize your time at HQ just to get Miguel to chill. 

The door slides open and you pause in the doorway when you notice Miguel is not alone. Your fingers tighten around the edges of the pizza box in your hands. “Should I come back later?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Miguel motions you inside and you allow the long metal arm sprouting from the ceiling to wrap itself around your waist. It carries you over the room to Miguel like a very disgruntled cat and he holds his hand out to help you balance when you’re deposited on the podium next to him. “Why didn’t you call?”

“LYLA said you were busy.” You sink into your usual chair and place the pizza box on your lap. It’s still warm. “She also said you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Miguel sends LYLA a look. She sticks her tongue out at him.

You clear your throat to disengage them and hand Miguel a slice of pizza between a napkin.

“Gracias, mi luz.” He motions towards your captive audience with his free hand. “Hobie, Earth-138. You’ve met Gwen.”

You hum. “Again with the numbers.”

“How do you hate numbers, you’re studying programming.”

“You’d be surprised.” You wave to Gwen and Hobie. “Nice to meet you.”

Gwen waves back while Hobie merely nods in greeting.

“How’s a wanker like him know someone like you?” Hobie asks—he’s immediately jabbed in the ribs by Gwen’s elbow and a hiss of ‘stop’ under her breath.

You raise a brow.

“That a compliment or an insult?”

Hobie shrugs.

“Oye,” Miguel warns. You jab your foot against his shin.

“Alchemax,” you say. “I used to intern there when I was still studying biochem. Didn’t work out so I no longer intern there.”

“Uh, so, what do you do now? If I may ask.” Gwen hastily adds that last part like she doesn’t want to bother you. Her movements are jerky. She’s nervous. You look at Miguel and raise a brow, then turn back to Gwen.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” LYLA whispers into his ear. Miguel swats her away.

“I study programming.” You jerk your head towards Miguel. “My first-year internships used to run until what, 11 PM, midnight-ish? And he didn’t want me going home alone that late, so he picked me up. Then we kept doing it for convenience’s sake.”

“And today he forgot.” Hobie shakes his head with a tsk. “Ignored the A.I., actually, by the way. Deplorable.” He looks towards Miguel. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

All eyes turn to Miguel. He glares back at Hobie. “I’m not explaining myself to a 12-year-old.”

You snort. “Remember that one jackass who threw a tantrum when I told him I was the intern and not the babysitter?” You look back down and hold out your hands, palms facing the ground. “Literally on his hands and knees crying in the middle of the hallway while his kid is standing there watching—god, I wish I had pictures.”

Miguel covers his mouth with a closed fist to hide the chuckle that escapes him. “His wife was divorcing him, by the way.”

Now you actually laugh. “I would’ve too.”

Miguel looks at the spiderlings below. “Fill out your mission reports by tonight. And no more blowing up the Parliament. You’re dismissed.”

Hobie opens his mouth to say something but Gwen has him by the scruff of his jacket before he has a chance to voice his opinion and quickly drags him out of the room. The door slides shut behind them and silence fills the room. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, both of you working on devouring your slice of pizza.

Even LYLA is sitting on your lap, munching on her own little pixelated slice of pizza.

“By the way,” you begin through a mouthful. You pause and swallow before continuing, “You busy tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet.” He reaches to pick up another slice and you watch him devour it in three bites.

“Dude, are you even enjoying the food?” You deadpan. “I just… realized I haven’t seen so many old horror movies, and I wanna watch them. But not alone.”

“Scared?” He raises an eyebrow, wiping his fingers in a napkin.

“No. Just kinda lame to watch them alone. Was thinking of like, Carrie, maybe—speaking of horror movies: what’s stopping you from dressing like 80s horror movie hunks?” You rest your elbow on the chair armrest and your chin against your knuckles. One leg is sprawled out to chase off the oncoming pins and needles.

“What?”

“A nice crop top, short shorts, or low-rise jeans…” You shrug your shoulders but don’t look away from him.

“I’m 6’9”, do you know what a pain in the ass buying pants is?”

“So? Just saying you’d look really good.” You allow your eyes to slowly slide down his body and then back up again. “Like,” you begin again, almost breathlessly, “really, really good.”

“Yeah?” He leans over you, one hand on his hip, the other gripping the back of your chair. “You think so?”

Your mouth dries up abruptly and swallowing feels like someone’s scooped sand into your mouth. So, you only hum.

“What, cat got your tongue?” His voice has dropped and you can feel the warmth he radiates.

“Yeah.” Your voice cracks and heat floods into your face and you feel like you’re a volcano about to erupt. There’s a hollowness in your chest, a fuzzy, messy ball of feelings bouncing around your ribcage, and a tingle in your right leg and—

Oh, that’s a pinched nerve, not oncoming pins and needles, you belatedly realize. You tap on Miguel’s wrist to push it off the chair’s backrest and let it fall flat to allow sprawling out for comfort.

“You okay?” Miguel asks, hovering over your newly acquired horizontal position. You wince.

“Nerve pain again.”

“LYLA, have the infirmary send a heat pack up.”

“On it.” She materializes on your chest and suddenly you realize you hadn’t seen her blink away.

Miguel crouches next to your chair, fingers hovering over your skin. “Where does it hurt?”

“Hip.” You tap the spot with a finger, then return to willing the pain away until the heat pack arrives. Whoever said mind over matter better be right.

“Well, considering I’ve seen you sleep like a pretzel…” 

“You sleep on your back like the fucking dead, dude.”

Miguel gently presses his fingers against your hip and the fabric of your jeans melts away enough for him to reach skin. His hand is warm. “Symbiote as pants,” he states, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards. “That’s new.”

“Now, which one of us uses unstable molecule fabric as their whole spider-suit?” You let your eyes flutter shut, taking slow, deep breaths to cope with the stabbing pain under your skin. “Plus, this is the one pair of white pants in the whole world that will never get dirty, or be see-through.”

“Oh yeah,” LYLA appears again, as if she’s remembering something important, “hey, Miguel? I could use a new outfit.”

“What?” Miguel tears his eyes from you to look at his A.I. assistant like she’s grown a second head. For a moment, LYLA entertains the idea of having you modify her code to make that possible.

“Or seven.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Y’know what, the more the merrier.”

“You can just download them off the internet.”

“So?”

“I’m busy; I can’t just drop everything to give you new clothes when you can do it yourself.”

“But you do it so well!”

“LYLA—”

“Good boys who do what their A.I. asks get rewarded.” LYLA holds up a finger. “Now, shh, listen.”

She begins a list of items she would like, specifying colors and patterns, accessories—even a car. You stifle your laughter at her demands and glance toward Miguel. Despite his grumpy demeanor, you know he’s listening intently, interjecting every now and then for clarification.

It’s reminiscent of the Miguel you knew before he became Spider-Man. The man who had lunch with you at Alchemax (even though you were just a lowly intern) and who listened to you talk about the chemical compounds Venom and its siblings and offsprings produced without rudely interrupting. Even now, in the midst of his verbal sparring-turned-hostage situation, there’s the ghost of a smile creeping up on his features.

You’re drawn from the reverie when the sound of spider-bots skittering across the floor draws your attention. One parks next to Miguel and opens the container on its back. Miguel grabs the heatpack and presses it against your hip. Anti-Venom forms around it, keeping it glued to your side. One of the metal arms hanging from the ceiling collects the empty pizza box from your lap.

A second spider-bot parks in front of you once your chair is upright again and you slide off, kneeling on front of the bot on the floor. The hatch in its back opens with a chirp, exposing a handful of colorfully wrapped candies. All familiar. 

“You had them imported all the way here?” You reach in and retrieve the candy, staring at the collection in your hand as if it’s the 8th wonder of the world. “I—I never even thought of checking if they export.” When you look up, Miguel is avoiding your gaze. The tips of his ears are burning, as indicated by LYLA on your Gizmo.

“He spent an ungodly amount of time agonizing over what flavors to get.”

“LYLA.” Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, effectively hiding his whole face from you.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t look at you but he does grunt out an acknowledgment.

The silence that follows feels a little prickly and you frown. Not prickly, per se, but… awkward, maybe.

“Are you uh…” you lick your lips and nod toward the screens hovering a few feet away. “Do you have work you have to get back to? ‘Cause I should get on with my homework.”

“Oh, uh—” Miguel glances back at the screens as you stand, pocketing the candy in your hand. “Yeah. I’ll drop you off.”

“Can I maybe stay?” You venture to ask. “Watch you work when I’m done?”

“You… want to watch me work?” You nod. “You’ll get bored.”

“But you look so pretty when you’re doing stuff I don’t understand.”

Heat floods your face and you clamp your jaw shut. You’re sure your heart skips several beats at once and suddenly you’re praying to be sent to the infirmary. No such luck and so, you slowly lower yourself onto your usual chair again to get on with your homework.

Miguel opens and closes his mouth a few times like a gaping fish before he finally closes it. A few beats of silence and then—

“Tú serás mi muerte,” he mumbles as he returns to whatever he does with the million screens he always has open. Maybe you should ask one day, but not this day.

LYLA appears in front of you, glowing a warm yellow. Maybe she should’ve asked for a new display color, too. She stares at you over her pink heart-shaped frames. 

“Wow, smooth.”

part two.

[namelessprayers]

"hey, ritsu," shou addresses, as he finishes off the last chunk of his popsicle in a single bite in his hastiness to catch up with ritsu's pace, "how could someone metaphorically sweep you off your feet?"

when shou finally gets in front and turns around to look at ritsu holding the ridiculously lavish bouquet gifted from a girl in his class, the look he receives is blankly incredulous, as is usual in their conversations. ritsu has his consistently refined way of unreactive snark and shou is the exact opposite, always the unsubtle and loud presence in any discussion. it makes shou beam a little brighter just to remember the fact.

"metaphorically, you know, because i definitely have swept you off your feet at some point in a fight." clarifies shou, assuming that that's what ritsu is wondering about, stepping near to inspect the flowers closely and thumb over some of the petals as method of judgement.

"why do you want to know?" ritsu says, continuing to walk despite shou's protests. in his haste, a few stray leaves get rustled from the meticulously arranged bouquet. truly, shou feels for whatever girl had the guts to deliver such a clearly heartfelt gift to the stone cold face of an ever polite ritsu. he would hope that ritsu let her down gently, but it's much more likely that he simply shattered her every dream.

as the back of ritsu's head gets far enough to almost disappear around the corner, shou teleports himself to the bin across the street to dispose of the popsicle stick before teleporting back to ritsu's side.

"that was unnecessary." comments ritsu, as soon as shou swerves to block his path. "anyways, i seriously don't see why metaphorically getting swept off my feet is such a point of interest. explain it to me, would you?"

"hm," shou gracefully jumps into a momentarily prolonged hover, nose to nose with ritsu, the only way to switch their dynamics in height, "i don't think i will." he lands back onto the balls of his feet, heels still raised off the ground, seemingly satisfied by whatever he inspected in his glaring down of ritsu's bland expression up close.

"shou, do you know what the date is today?" asks ritsu, briskly continuing his strides, probably unbothered by shou's predictably childish uncooperativeness in answering the question. shou glances at ritsu's side profile with a scrutiny that serves to pierce his companion ineffectively.

"no idea, ritsu. why? is today important?" he frowns, but shou ultimately finds no merit in rewinding the earlier events of the day.

they got popsicles from a convenience store in the local area near ritsu's house, and before that, they were in his bedroom doing study. or more accurately, ritsu was sternly polishing off homework whilst shou levitated a cycle of stationary in the air to voice his opinion on each object. prior to that, they had walked from the school where ritsu just finished getting ambushed by a bunch of girls after his extended school council meeting. shou doesn't recall much before when he went to pick up ritsu, though he recalls the inordinate amount of heart shaped chocolates stuffed in a heavy backpack that he offered in a very gentlemanly manner to float while on their way.

"i've really got no clue. can i have a hint about the date?" since it's not ritsu's style to go uninformed about these little things, shou concludes that this is a reasonable assumption to make. unfortunately, the request is met with a puzzling nod of ritsu's head as he gestures imperceptibly to the bouquet in hand. shou snorts, unimpressed. "this is the hint?"

"if it hurts your brain too much we can just resume the program as scheduled." snarks ritsu, all dry wit and nonchalant delivery. shou snorts again, this time with amusement.

"who even says 'program'?" bouncing to peer over ritsu's shoulder, shou inhales a strong whiff of the dozens of red and pink and white roses. it clicks for an instant before the meaning of the soft colours and the flowers and the chocolates vanish entirely in a sneeze. "we should probably detour to drop that off at home though."

ritsu wrinkles his nose at the bouquet taking up all his arm space as if it personally offended him with the mere injustice of existing, which shou thinks to be a bit overdramatic for simply being an unwarranted gift of one too many flowers, even if he laughs in delight anyways.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 4

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1000

Masterlist

———————————————————————

"And then, she hits me with a 'I hope I didn’t throw you off!' Can you believe it? She’s a woman who wants to control everything and enjoys provoking people—provoking  me  specifically!"

“Well, this sounds promising,” Alessia teased. “I didn’t think she was like that; she seemed nice at the kids' Christmas party at the hospital.”

“Oh yeah, the Dragon has two faces! They’re the worst kind. She’s a real actress.”

Sitting in Alessia’s living room, we’d just finished a platter of sushi. She was laughing. Alessia, with her Italian roots, had long blond hair and bright eyes. Her laughter and infectious joy made her even more beautiful.

“The Dragon isn’t so bad to look at; you can always admire her if it helps,” she replied with a playful smile.

“Sure, with that personality, I almost didn’t notice her at all,” I replied, with a hint of bad faith.

I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. Our tongues met in a lively dance as my hands moved along her back and then under her shirt to touch her soft, warm skin. She suddenly pulled away from my embrace.

“Is something wrong?”

“No… it’s just… we talked about this, how we should stop if we want to move on.”

She said it in a weary voice, and I frowned.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, it’s not that. But how can we move on if we keep ending up in bed every few days?”

We’d been apart for almost a year now, without drama but with a lot of sadness. She was in a surgical program that would take her to Canada in a year, and her schedule was relentless. And with my own demanding schedule, our lives had gradually drifted apart. After yet another breakup and the usual reproaches, we’d separated. We hadn’t been in touch for months until I reached out a few weeks ago. Her scent, her voice, her laughter—I’d missed it all. And, of course, we ended up in each other’s arms, which maybe wasn’t the best idea. Since then, although neither of us considered getting back together, rarely a week went by without us finding ourselves together again.

Her comment stung. Sarcastically, I replied, “Excuse me, but the sushi and candle setup made me think this was going somewhere else tonight.”

“Come on, don’t take it that way. It’s complicated; I want to see you too. But where are we going with this? The first one of us who meets someone just leaves? Since we’re not getting back together, right?”

She threw this at me, challenging me with her deep brown eyes, almost black.

“Are you planning to work fewer than 150 hours a week? And not going to Canada?”

I’d hit a sore spot—Canada, the real cause of our breakup. She’d accepted the program without consulting me, and I’d felt left out of her life as she forged her own path without me.

“Do we really have to talk about this again? You know my workload will be much lighter in a year, and you could have come to Canada!”

“Oh sure, like I was so well included in your great plans! I’d just bought my firm, and then you announced all this! So no, let’s not talk about it. Anyway, after today, I’m done here. I’m leaving.”

I grabbed my coat and headed toward the door. She followed me immediately, grabbing my arm, pushing me against the wall, taking my face in her hands, and leaning in close to my ear.

“Stay. It’s too hard. I need you.”

Her words electrified my entire body. I let my coat drop and kissed her passionately. Our tongues joined in a fierce rhythm as I leaned against the wall, breathless. Alessia unbuttoned my blouse, letting it fall immediately. She began to kiss my neck, moving slowly down to my breasts, which she caressed gently. Her tongue circled my hardened nipples, aroused by the waves of desire flooding through my body. Her hand wandered along my thigh, moving dangerously close to my lower belly. She unbuttoned my jeans, slipping them down; I was at her mercy now, in only my black thong, standing before her. As she continued to tease my nipples, her hand gently stroked me through my underwear. She began applying pressure to my clit, making me moan even louder. She then moved lower with her mouth. I decided to shed the last barrier between us. She started kissing my intimate area, licking my lips while lightly touching my clit. She knew me by heart—my body, how to make me feel pleasure. Feeling my excitement, she slid one finger, then two, inside me, moving them faster and faster, while never stopping her tantalizing strokes with her tongue. The pleasure built within me like a sudden fire. My moans grew louder, my hands in her hair. I moved my body to feel her tongue, her fingers,  her , even more deeply within me. I finally climaxed, shuddering with pleasure. She slowly moved back up, covering my body with kisses until she reached my lips and gently bit them. I felt so vulnerable, naked in front of her while she was still fully dressed. I smiled.

“What are you smiling about, miss?” she asked, with a mischievous grin.

“I think I’m standing naked in a hallway in front of a fully clothed person; we might need to remedy this. Would you happen to have a bedroom?”

We laughed heartily. I took her hand and led her to her bedroom—our former bedroom—ready to put her through the same wonderful torment.

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Alexandria continues to try and find her place in a world not meant for her.

Word Count: 7.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: thank y'all for the love on Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious! as i said on that post, don't be afraid to send in a request or ask.

anyways, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Series Masterlist - Chapter 2 → Chapter 4

AO3 Link For Chapter

Charles gave Alexandria the week off to catch up on sleep and to make sure she was healthy. Hank had also made a smaller version of the headband, making it into a small metal piece that sticks onto the middle of her forehead.

When asked about how much sleep she usually got with HYDRA when she was let out of the med bay, she was afraid to answer. She wasn’t quite sure how much sleep normal people got, mutants or not.

So, she had told the truth, around every 2 and a half weeks.

Logan had heard her words, and though he didn't say anything, his face tightened in that familiar way that indicated frustration. He couldn't imagine getting by on that little sleep, even with all the crap he’d been through. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

"Two and a half weeks, huh?" Logan finally muttered, crossing his arms as he looked at Alexandria. He didn’t sound surprised, just tired. Tired of all the messed-up things people had to endure in this world, himself included.

Alexandria nodded, her expression guarded. She wasn’t sure if she should have lied, since lying came naturally to her, thanks to HYDRA.

“Yeah, sometimes longer,” she said quietly. “If they were feeling generous.”

“Generous,” Logan repeated, the word dripping with sarcasm. He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. “That’s one way to put it.”

Hank had walked in just in time to hear the last part of their conversation. He was holding a tablet, likely containing her medical records, or maybe some new tech he was working on. "Logan, Alexandria," Hank greeted them with a nod before turning to Alexandria. "I was just going over your vitals. The new headpiece seems to be working well, but we’ll need to keep monitoring you. If you feel anything unusual, let me know immediately."

Alexandria looked down at the small metal piece now attached to her forehead, a far cry from the cumbersome headband she had worn before. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but it still felt foreign. Like a reminder of the control she had lost, and might never fully regain.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady but distant. "I’ll let you know."

Logan grunted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "She tell you how much sleep she was gettin' with HYDRA?" he asked Hank, though it was clear he was still talking to Alexandria in a way.

Hank glanced up, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Not much, I presume?”

"Try every two and a half weeks," Logan replied flatly. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make it sound like a big deal, but the impact was there all the same.

Hank’s expression darkened. “That’s...well, that’s beyond cruel. It’s inhumane.”

Alexandria shrugged, as if it wasn’t worth discussing further. "It was what it was," she said simply. There was no point in dwelling on it. That was her past, and she had no interest in letting it dictate her future—whatever that might look like.

Logan, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as ready to drop it. "You don’t gotta act like it’s no big deal," he grumbled. "Ain’t no one here who’s gonna judge you for what you went through."

Alexandria shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. "I’m not acting like it’s nothing," she said, her tone defensive. "But there’s no point in crying over it either. It’s done. Over."

Hank exchanged a glance with Logan, who just shrugged. It wasn’t like he was going to push her to open up. He sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate it if someone tried to do that to him.

"Fair enough," Logan finally said. He could respect her need to keep things close to the chest. Hell, he lived his entire life that way. "Just don’t go thinkin’ you gotta handle everything alone. You’re part of this team now, whether you like it or not."

Alexandria raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Logan smirked, but there was no real humor in it. "Take it however you want, kid. I’m just saying, you don’t have to go through this by yourself."

Hank cleared his throat, stepping in before the conversation could get any more tense. “Logan’s right. We’re here to support you, Alexandria. But if you need space, we’ll respect that too.”

“Yeah, well, space is something I’m used to,” she replied, her voice cold but not unkind. She wasn’t trying to push them away; she just didn’t know how to let them in.

“Gettin’ used to other people is part of the deal,” Logan pointed out, though he didn’t press the issue further. “Just...take it slow. No one’s expectin’ miracles here.”

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her eyes drifting to the window where sunlight filtered in, casting long shadows across the room. The idea of taking it slow was foreign to her. Everything with HYDRA had been fast, brutal, and unrelenting. But now, she wasn’t sure what to do with all this...time. Time to think, time to feel. Time to figure out who she was outside of the person HYDRA had molded her into.

“I’ll try,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. It was the most she could offer, and she hoped it would be enough to satisfy them.

Hank smiled gently, recognizing the effort it took for her to even say that much. “That’s all we ask, Alexandria. One step at a time.”

But now, she was determined to catch up on the work Charles said she didn’t have to do. Alexandria wanted to do it, to prove to herself that she was capable. That HYDRA hadn’t taken away her pride.

She also knew that she needed to get more sleep. After the first three days of being out of the medbay, Hank came by and told her to sleep. He mentioned that it would be a hard habit to break, but to try and sleep every 3 nights and slowly wean herself down to every night.

When she asked how he knew, he said he had his ways.

Which meant two things, either there was some sort of sleep tracker on the headpiece, or they were keeping an eye on her. Possibly both.

On Saturday, Kitty and Jean offered to take Alexandria out on a ‘girls day’, which made Scott pout like some of the dogs she had seen in HYDRA when they didn’t get to chew on human skeletons.

Kitty was bouncing on her heels, her enthusiasm barely contained. “So, Alexandria, what do you think? We could hit up the mall, maybe get some lunch, and just hang out. It’ll be fun.”

“What Kitty means is that she wants to go to a store that sells body wash and body sprays since they’re having a major sale.” Jean added, her arms crossed with a small smirk as she looked over at Kitty.

“…Okay, maybe. But it’ll be fun! Have you ever been to one of those stores, Alexandria?” Kitty asked.

“No. Wanda and Natasha took me to the mall, but we only got clothes.” She replied.

Jean straightened up against the wall, “well then perfect, you need some body wash that isn’t just the one supplied to us.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll love smelling all the different kinds of scents. Maybe we can even get candles.” Kitty said.

“That’ll be a fortune we don’t have Kitty.” Jean sighed.

Alexandria stood up from her bed and went to her desk and opened her drawer. “Not if we have Tony Stark’s credit card.” She waved around the platinum card.

Kitty’s eyes widened as she saw the platinum card gleaming in Alexandria’s hand. “No way! Is that really Tony Stark’s card?” she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

Alexandria nodded, her expression as deadpan as ever. “Yeah.” She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to put a damper on their spirits by saying she stole it. But Natasha did give it to her, so maybe it wasn’t stolen, more like borrowed.

Kitty practically squealed, her excitement bubbling over. “This is going to be the best girls' day ever! We can get whatever we want!”

Jean shook her head with a smirk, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You know Tony’s not going to care about the bill, but try not to go too crazy, Kitty.”

Kitty grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “No promises!”

Alexandria tucked the card back into her pocket, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t about the shopping or the credit card; it was about having control, even if just a little. She was used to being controlled, being told what to do, how to think, how to feel. But now, in this small way, she could do something for herself. And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to enjoy it.

“Let’s get going, then,” Alexandria said, her voice calm but with a hint of anticipation.

“Wait, you can’t just bring Tony’s card without showing it off,” Kitty teased, nudging Alexandria playfully. “You’ve got to make a big deal out of it!”

“Why would I do that?” Alexandria asked, genuinely puzzled. “It’s just a card.”

Jean chuckled, shaking her head. “Because it’s Tony Stark’s card. And you’re with us, which means we’ve got to make this outing memorable. C’mon, live a little.”

Alexandria frowned, her mind processing the idea of “living a little.” It wasn’t something she was used to, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. They had been kind to her, something she wasn’t sure how to handle, but she recognized it.

“I’ll try,” she said after a moment, her voice softer than usual.

“That’s the spirit!” Kitty said, grabbing Alexandria by the arm and leading her out of the room. “Let’s hit the mall!”

As they made their way out of the mansion, Alexandria felt a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had been on missions, faced down enemies, endured years of training and conditioning, but this felt different. It was unfamiliar territory, and part of her was wary, unsure of what to expect.

The drive to the mall was filled with chatter, mostly Kitty excitedly planning out their shopping spree and Jean chiming in with occasional comments. Alexandria listened, trying to get a sense of what this experience was supposed to be like. She was used to analyzing situations, figuring out the best course of action, but this was… different.

When they finally arrived at the mall, Kitty practically bounded out of the car, her excitement contagious. “Alright, first stop: the store with all the body washes and sprays! We’re going to smell so good by the time we’re done!”

Jean smiled, walking alongside Alexandria as they followed Kitty inside. “Don’t worry, Alexandria. If this gets overwhelming, we can take a break anytime. Just let us know.”

Alexandria nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I’ll be fine.”

They entered the store, and Alexandria was immediately hit with a wave of different scents. It was almost overpowering, but Kitty was in her element, grabbing bottles off the shelves and excitedly showing them to Jean and Alexandria.

“Smell this one!” Kitty said, holding up a bottle of vanilla-scented body wash. “It’s amazing!”

Alexandria took the bottle and sniffed it tentatively. It was sweet, almost too sweet, but there was something oddly comforting about it. She handed it back to Kitty with a nod. “It’s nice.”

“Nice? It’s perfect! I’m definitely getting this one,” Kitty said, tossing it into her basket. “What about you, Alexandria? Any scents catching your eye?”

Alexandria hesitated, unsure of how to answer. She wasn’t used to indulging in things like this. Her life had been about survival, not luxury. But she knew they were trying to include her, and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, her voice quiet.

Jean stepped in, offering a gentle smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Kitty, sensing Alexandria’s uncertainty, softened her tone. “How about we try a few different ones? We can help you find something you like.”

Alexandria nodded, grateful for their patience. She let them guide her through the different options, trying out various scents and slowly getting used to the idea of choosing something just for herself.

She never knew there were so many different kinds of scents. And most of them had extravagant names like ‘Bright Moon’ and ‘Into the Stars’.

After a while of smelling the different scents, she came upon one that she didn’t think she’d like. It was sweet smelling, the back of the bottle said it had notes of fresh strawberries, golden shortcake and whipped cream.

She picked up the bottle with a hesitant look. "This one’s really sweet," she said, her tone neutral.

Kitty practically bounced over to her side. "Oh, that one’s amazing! It’s called ‘Strawberry Delight.’ It’s like dessert in a bottle!"

Alexandria sniffed it again, still unsure. “Dessert?”

Jean joined them, her smile genuine but with a hint of amusement. “It’s a little on the sweet side, but it’s supposed to be fun. It’s all about what makes you feel good.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Feel good?”

Kitty nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Sometimes, the little things can make a big difference. You might end up liking it more than you think.”

Alexandria gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. She could tell Kitty was genuinely excited about this, and despite her usual reserve, she didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Alright,” Alexandria said, trying to match Kitty’s enthusiasm. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Kitty squealed and grabbed a bottle of the Strawberry Delight’, adding it to her basket. “Perfect! You’re going to love it!”

As they continued through the store, Alexandria found herself starting to enjoy the experience. It was a new sensation, having a say in something as trivial as body wash. It was a stark contrast to her previous life, where choices were made for her, not by her.

Jean, noticing Alexandria’s gradual shift, kept the conversation light. “So, what do you think of this ‘girls day’ idea so far?”

“It’s different,” Alexandria admitted, her voice more relaxed. “Not bad, though.”

“That’s the idea!” Kitty chimed in, her excitement undiminished. “We’re just here to have a good time and take a break from all the serious stuff.”

“I think I’m getting used to it,” Alexandria said, surprising herself with her own words. “Not that I’ll be joining every shopping spree, but... this is nice.”

Kitty’s grin widened. “See? I told you it would be fun!”

They made their way to the checkout, with Kitty and Jean chatting about their favorite finds. Alexandria, still holding onto her bottle of Strawberry Delight’, felt a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t just about buying things; it was about participating in something that felt normal, even if only for a few hours.

After paying, they headed out of the store. Kitty was already planning their next stop. “So, next up is the candle shop. They’ve got a sale on all their candles, and we’ve got to check it out!”

Jean laughed lightly. “You’re really on a shopping spree today, Kitty.”

“You know it!” Kitty said, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’re going to make the most of it.”

Alexandria followed along, feeling a mix of anticipation and relief. She wasn’t used to this level of normalcy, but it felt good. For once, she didn’t have to worry about missions or expectations. She was simply... there.

As they walked to the candle shop, Alexandria couldn’t help but glance at Kitty and Jean, noting how their enthusiasm seemed to lighten the atmosphere around her. It was a far cry from the harsh environment she had come from, and though she was still adjusting, she was starting to see the appeal.

Kitty pushed open the door to the candle shop, and a new array of scents greeted them. “Welcome to the candle wonderland!”

Jean raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “You and your candles. I swear you could live in this store.”

Kitty laughed, already picking up candles and showing them off to Alexandria. “You’d be surprised. There’s something about a good candle that just... makes everything better.”

Alexandria took in the shop’s offerings, her eyes scanning the rows of candles with different scents and designs. It was almost overwhelming, but in a good way. She picked up a candle labeled ‘Serene Forest’ and gave it a sniff. The scent was earthy and calming, a stark contrast to the sweetness of the body wash.

“Do you like that one?” Kitty asked, noticing Alexandria’s interest.

“It’s... calming,” Alexandria said, her voice thoughtful. “I think I might get this one.”

Jean nodded in approval. “Good choice. It’s nice to have something relaxing to light up.”

They continued exploring the shop, Kitty picking out candles with names like ‘Ocean Breeze’ and ‘Lavender Dreams’. Alexandria took her time, carefully selecting the scents that appealed to her. Each choice was an experiment in normalcy, a small step toward finding a place for herself outside the constraints of her past.

By the time they left the store, Alexandria felt a sense of contentment she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about the items she had purchased or the day out with Kitty and Jean. It was about the simple act of being part of something, of enjoying a moment that was her own.

As they made their way back to the car, Kitty’s chatter continued, filled with plans for their next outing. Alexandria listened, her expression more relaxed than it had been in a long time.

Jean glanced over at Alexandria, her smile warm. “You did great today. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I did.”

Kitty gave her a playful nudge. “See? Told you it would be fun. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Alexandria replied, feeling a sense of warmth she hadn’t felt before.

As they drove back to the mansion, Alexandria looked out the window, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation for what lay ahead. For once, she didn’t have to be on guard. She could just be.

They ended up getting much more than body wash, body sprays, and candles. Jean had brought them to Sephora to get some expensive shampoos and conditioners, to which Kitty was very amused and happy that she was embracing Tony’s credit card.

Jean parked the car in the garage and opened the trunk, around 15 large paper bags completely filling it. Kitty jumped out of the car with the same enthusiasm she’d had all day, while Alexandria and Jean followed at a more measured pace.

“Wow, we really went all out today,” Jean said, looking at the overflowing bags. “I think we might need a separate car just for the shopping.”

Kitty laughed. “That was amazing! And thanks to Tony’s credit card, we didn’t have to worry about the bill.” She turned to Alexandria with a wide grin. “You did great today. I’m glad you had fun.”

Alexandria nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It was...different. But I liked it.”

Jean reached into the trunk and started pulling out the bags. “Let’s get this stuff inside. I’ll help you carry some.”

Kitty grabbed a few bags, her excitement still palpable. “I’m going to organize everything in my room. We’ll have to compare our finds.”

Alexandria picked up a couple of bags, her thoughts already shifting. She was used to analyzing situations, but this was a new kind of experience—one she wasn’t entirely sure how to process. Still, she was trying to let herself enjoy it.

As they made their way into the mansion, Logan happened to be coming down the stairs. He spotted them with the armfuls of bags and raised an eyebrow.

“Did you ladies rob a department store or something?” Logan asked, his tone as gruff as ever.

Kitty grinned, clearly unfazed by his demeanor. “Nope, just had a really successful shopping day. We’re totally stocked up now.”

Logan’s gaze shifted to Alexandria. “You didn’t get too carried away, did you?”

Alexandria shrugged slightly, still holding a couple of bags. “Just bought a few things. Nothing extravagant.”

Logan grunted, not exactly convinced but clearly not interested in delving further. “Well, as long as you don’t turn the mansion into a store.”

Kitty laughed, nudging Alexandria playfully. “Don’t mind him. He’s just being grumpy. We had a blast.”

“Yeah, it was... enjoyable,” Alexandria admitted, a bit more relaxed than usual.

Logan’s expression softened slightly, but only just. “Good. Just keep it in check.”

With that, Logan turned and headed back up the stairs, muttering something about needing a drink. Kitty watched him go with an amused look before focusing back on the bags.

Jean and Kitty began sorting through the bags, finding places for everything they had bought. Alexandria watched them, feeling a strange mix of contentment and apprehension. It was a world so different from her past, and while it was nice, it was also unfamiliar.

“I think we should get everything organized,” Kitty said as she rifled through a particularly large bag. “And then maybe have a snack. I’m starving.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Is that something you usually do after shopping?”

Kitty laughed. “Not usually. But today is special, right? We can treat ourselves.”

Jean, who had been unbagging a set of bath products, looked over at Alexandria. “So, Alexandria, do you have any plans for tonight? Or are you just going to relax and enjoy your new stuff?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Alexandria said, her tone thoughtful. “I suppose I could use some downtime.”

Kitty grabbed a box of chocolates from one of the bags. “Perfect! Let’s all just hang out. We can watch a movie, eat snacks, and just chill. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Sounds good,” Alexandria agreed. It was a simple suggestion, but it felt right. For once, she could relax without the constant pressure of her past life.

As they continued unpacking and chatting about their day, the atmosphere in the mansion felt lighter than usual. It was a small reprieve from the usual intensity, and Alexandria found herself appreciating the moment more than she would have admitted.

Later that evening, as they settled down with snacks and a movie, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. She had come from a place where her every move was controlled, and now, in this space with Kitty and Jean, she was starting to find something like normalcy. It wasn’t perfect, and she still had a lot to work through, but it was a start.

Kitty was sprawled out on the couch with a big bag of popcorn, Jean was flipping through movie options, and Alexandria found herself settling into a place she hadn’t thought she’d ever experience—simple relaxation with friends.

As the movie began and the room filled with the sound of laughter and conversation, Alexandria leaned back and allowed herself to simply be. It was a small victory, but it felt significant. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, she was content.

---

The next day, Alexandria found herself holed up in her room, with a candle lit. Jean taught her how to light the candle without needing a lighter. All she needed to do was use a little bit of her telekinesis to light it.

She tried it, and surprisingly it worked. She had never used her powers for something so… domestic and non-threatening.

One thing she didn’t know she liked doing was reading. Alexandria may not be able to read in English, but she can read in Russian.

She bought a book called ‘Wuthering Heights’ and had been reading it since the afternoon. Her headphones were on, a song called ‘successful’ by Ariana Grande flowing through her ears, who was also someone Jean put her onto.

Her room also smelt quite good, not just because of the candle burning, but because she ended up using that strawberry body wash she got, along with the fancy shampoo and conditioner.

“Ostav' menya v pokoye. Ostav' menya v pokoye,” rydala Ketrin. “Yesli ya postupil nepravil'no, ya umirayu za eto. Dostatochno! Ty tozhe menya ostavil; no ya ne budu tebya uprekat'! YA proshchayu tebya. Prosti menya!” Alexandria murmured as she read along to the book.

Logan came to her door, it was nearing 11 o’clock at night, and he wanted to make sure she got some sleep before she went back to classes tomorrow.

He knocked and waited a few moments, getting no response. He knocked again and waited a few seconds before opening the door, seeing Alexandria on her bed, her feet in the air reading a book with headphones over her ears mumbling words he couldn’t understand.

“Trudno proshchat', smotret' v eti glaza i chuvstvovat' eti potrachennyye vpustuyu ruki,” otvetil on. “Potseluy menya yeshche raz i ne pozvolyay mne videt' tvoi glaza! YA proshchayu to, chto ty sdelal so mnoy. YA lyublyu svoyego ubiytsu, no tvoyego! Kak ya mogu?” She continued murmuring to herself as she read the book.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, his eyes narrowing as he watched Alexandria. She was engrossed in her book, completely unaware of his presence, her lips moving silently as she read the Russian text aloud. The scent of strawberries filled the room, mingling with the earthy aroma of the candle burning on her desk. It was a sharp contrast to the usual scent of metal and sweat that Logan was used to.

He hesitated, unsure whether to interrupt her or just leave her to her reading. He wasn’t one for intruding on anyone’s space, especially not when they were focused like she was. But it was late, and he knew from experience that pushing herself too hard—physically or mentally—wasn’t going to do her any favors.

He didn’t know why he felt the need to check on her, but something about her situation resonated with him. Maybe it was the way she had collapsed in the rain a few weeks ago, driven to the brink by her inability to sleep. Or maybe it was something else, something deeper that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

He knocked lightly on the door again, this time louder to ensure she could hear him over the music. Alexandria didn’t react immediately; she was too absorbed in the world of Wuthering Heights. Logan recognized the look in her eyes—he’d seen it in the mirror plenty of times before. It was the look of someone lost in their own head, trying to escape from something they couldn’t quite put into words.

“Kid,” Logan called out, his voice gruff but not unkind. “It’s late.”

Alexandria’s head snapped up, her eyes focusing on Logan as if she’d just realized he was standing there. She quickly pulled off her headphones, the music abruptly cutting off. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No kidding,” Logan muttered, stepping into the room. He glanced at the book in her hands, recognizing the language. “What’re you reading?”

“Wuthering Heights,” she replied, her tone neutral as she placed a bookmark between the pages and closed the book. “In Russian.”

Logan nodded, not surprised. “You should get some sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

Alexandria frowned, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. “I’m not tired.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze steady. “Doesn’t matter. You need sleep.”

She sighed, clearly not in the mood for an argument but not wanting to give in either. “I’ll sleep later.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change, but his voice softened just a fraction. “It’s not up for debate, kid. You need rest. You’ve been running yourself ragged since you got here.”

Alexandria’s eyes flickered with irritation, but there was also a trace of something else—uncertainty, maybe even a bit of fear. She didn’t like being told what to do, that much was clear. But there was something about Logan that made her reluctant to push back too hard. Maybe it was because he reminded her of herself, in a way. Or maybe it was because she could sense that, underneath his rough exterior, he actually gave a damn.

“I’ll go to sleep soon,” she finally said, though it was more of a concession than a promise.

Logan didn’t push further. He knew when to back off. “Alright. Just make sure you do.” He turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back at her. “And if you need anything… you know where to find me.”

Alexandria watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Thanks.”

Logan gave a curt nod and left her room, closing the door behind him. As he walked down the hall, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Alexandria than she let on. He wasn’t one to pry—hell, he had his own share of secrets—but he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of demons she was wrestling with. And more importantly, whether she could fight them off on her own.

Back in her room, Alexandria stared at the closed door for a long moment before setting her book aside. She had planned to keep reading, to lose herself in the words and the story, but now the room felt different—quieter, more oppressive. Logan’s presence had been a reminder of the real world, of the things she couldn’t escape no matter how hard she tried.

With a sigh, she blew out the candle on her desk, plunging the room into darkness except for the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. She lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. Alexandria grabbed the metal piece Hank made her to keep out other people’s dreams and stuck it on her forehead, her mind quieting.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, to let go of the tension that seemed to cling to her like a second skin. The scent of strawberries lingered in the air, a faint reminder of the small comforts she had allowed herself today. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for now, it was enough.

---

Professor Xavier told her to meet him after classes by the Danger Room. She had never gone in it yet, only heard a few things from her classmates about it.

She met him at the door of the room as he turned his wheelchair to face her. “Ah, hello, Alexandria. I was hoping today you might be up to showing us your skills.”

Alexandria nodded, her face set in its usual neutral expression. “Sure. What do you want me to do?”

Professor Xavier gestured for her to enter. “We’re going to run a few scenarios to get a sense of your abilities in action. We’ve seen your control over telekinesis and heard about your skills with dream manipulation, but we’d like to see how you handle a more dynamic environment.”

As they entered the Danger Room, Alexandria took in the sleek, high-tech surroundings. The room was designed to simulate various environments and scenarios for training purposes. Today, it was set up like a dense forest, with trees and underbrush extending as far as the eye could see.

Professor Xavier positioned himself at a control panel. “You’ll start by demonstrating your telekinesis. Move objects, lift them, show us what you can do. After that, we’ll incorporate some elements that require your dream manipulation skills.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and stepped further into the simulated forest. She raised her hand, focusing on a large rock nearby. With a subtle movement of her fingers, the rock began to levitate, hovering in the air before gently lowering back to the ground.

Professor Xavier watched closely, nodding in approval. “Good. Now, let’s try something more challenging. I’m going to create a few obstacles for you to navigate through. Let’s see how you handle them.”

With that, the simulation shifted. Trees began to move and rearrange themselves, creating a maze-like structure. Alexandria’s expression remained unchanged as she moved through the obstacles, her telekinesis clearing a path by pushing aside branches and lifting fallen logs.

“Impressive,” Professor Xavier said. “Now, let’s incorporate a scenario where you need to use your dream manipulation.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She was used to being told what to do, and this was just another challenge to tackle.

The environment shifted again, this time into a more chaotic scene. The trees became distorted, and shadows seemed to come alive. Professor Xavier explained, “This scenario is meant to test your ability to handle stress and manipulation. Imagine this as a chaotic dream environment. Try to bring some order to it.”

Alexandria closed her eyes briefly, concentrating. She reached out with her mind, projecting calm and order into the chaotic environment. The shadows began to recede, and the distorted trees straightened, transforming into a more stable and peaceful setting.

“Excellent,” Professor Xavier said, a note of genuine admiration in his voice. “Your control over your powers is impressive. You’ve managed to bring a sense of calm even in a chaotic situation.”

Alexandria opened her eyes and gave a curt nod. “Thanks. Is that all?”

“For now,” Professor Xavier replied. “But… if you would like I could give you a different scenario. To test your fighting skills.”

She raised her eyebrows, partially amused, partially excited. She hadn’t gotten a chance to fight since she’d been here. It had been almost 2 months of no punching bags, no guns, knives, nothing. Perhaps Charles caught onto that.

"Sure." Alexandria's response was clipped, her eyes narrowing slightly in anticipation. It had been too long since she had been given the chance to fight—too long since she had felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she faced an opponent. The idea of finally being able to release some of that pent-up energy was almost thrilling.

Professor Xavier nodded, his expression unreadable, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "Very well. I’ll modify the simulation to include some combat elements. Remember, this is a controlled environment. The objective is to assess your combat reflexes and decision-making under pressure."

Alexandria didn’t need the reminder. Controlled environment or not, she was ready to show what she could do. The forest setting around her began to shift once again, the trees and underbrush morphing into a more open space with a few scattered boulders and uneven terrain. It was a landscape designed to test agility and awareness.

From the edge of the clearing, several figures materialized—simulated opponents, armed and ready for battle. They were clearly not human, more like humanoid constructs, their movements mechanical yet fluid. They approached her, weapons raised, their expressions blank and devoid of any humanity.

Alexandria rolled her shoulders, loosening up as she prepared herself. She didn’t need to think twice. As the first construct lunged at her, she moved with a speed and precision that spoke of years of training. Her telekinesis flared to life, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent the first attacker flying into a boulder with a force that shattered its synthetic body on impact.

Another came at her from the side, swinging a blade that glinted in the artificial light. Alexandria ducked, narrowly avoiding the strike, and with a swift motion, she grabbed the blade telekinetically, wrenching it from the construct’s grasp and driving it into its chest. The construct crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The remaining attackers hesitated for a split second, as if recalculating their strategy. It was all the time Alexandria needed. She focused her mind, sending out a telekinetic pulse that knocked them all off balance. Two of them staggered but recovered quickly, advancing on her once again. The third, however, wasn’t so lucky—it was thrown back against the trees, its body collapsing into a heap of twisted metal.

Alexandria didn’t give them a chance to regroup. She launched herself at the nearest opponent, her movements fluid and precise. Her fist connected with its face, and she followed up with a telekinetic blast that sent it crashing to the ground. The last remaining construct tried to retreat, but Alexandria was on it in an instant. With a final, powerful telekinetic push, she crushed it into the ground, its limbs splayed out at unnatural angles.

The clearing was silent once more, save for the sound of Alexandria’s heavy breathing. She stood in the center of the carnage, her eyes blazing with the intensity of the fight. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, her mind slowly coming down from the high of combat.

"Well done, Alexandria," Professor Xavier's voice broke through the silence, his tone measured. "You handled that with remarkable skill. Your reflexes and decision-making are impressive, especially given the complexity of the scenario."

Alexandria straightened up, wiping the sweat from her brow. "It was easy enough," she said, though there was a slight edge to her voice, as if she had been hoping for more of a challenge.

"I expected no less from you," Professor Xavier replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "But this was just a preliminary assessment. There’s more we need to explore when it comes to your abilities—especially your dream manipulation."

She nodded, though she wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of using her dream powers. Combat was one thing—something she understood, something tangible. But dreams? They were a whole different territory, one she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

As if reading her thoughts, Professor Xavier continued, "I understand that your dream manipulation might not be something you’ve had much opportunity to explore in a combat context. But it’s an important part of your skill set, one that could be invaluable in certain situations."

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her mind turning over the possibilities. She knew her dream manipulation was powerful, but she had always used it for more subtle, less direct purposes—mostly to keep people away from her own thoughts. The idea of using it in combat was new, and not entirely welcome.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice steady. "What do you want me to do?"

Professor Xavier’s gaze softened slightly, as if he understood the internal conflict she was grappling with. "We’ll start with something simple. I’ll create a scenario where your opponents are influenced by a dream-like state—something that distorts their perception of reality. Your task will be to manipulate that state to your advantage."

The environment around her shifted once more, the clearing darkening as if the sun had suddenly set. The air grew thick and heavy, a mist rising from the ground to obscure the edges of the clearing. Alexandria could feel the change in the atmosphere, the way it pressed down on her senses, making everything feel surreal and dream-like.

From the mist, new figures emerged—these ones more fluid and less defined than the previous constructs. They moved in a disjointed, almost ghostly manner, their forms flickering as if they were caught between different states of being. Alexandria recognized the nature of the scenario immediately—these were manifestations of dreams, or perhaps nightmares, their reality unstable and shifting.

She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out with her mind. It was a delicate balance, manipulating a dream state. Too much force, and the whole construct could collapse, leaving nothing to work with. Too little, and the dream could spiral out of control, becoming more of a threat than the opponents themselves.

She began to weave her influence into the fabric of the dream, threading her thoughts through the mist and the figures within it. Slowly, she started to shape the dream to her will, making the figures more solid, more real. They became easier to predict, their movements more coordinated and deliberate.

The figures moved toward her, but this time, she didn’t rely on telekinesis alone. She reached deeper into the dream, warping their perception of the environment. The ground shifted beneath their feet, the mist thickening around them, causing them to stumble and falter. One of the figures reached out as if to grab her, but its hand passed through empty air, its form dissipating like smoke.

Alexandria pushed further, intensifying the dream’s effects. The figures began to move slower, their forms becoming more disjointed and fragmented. She could see the confusion in their movements, the way they struggled to maintain their shape and purpose. It was as if they were caught in a loop, unable to break free from the dream’s hold.

She didn’t stop there. She pushed the dream to its breaking point, unraveling the last threads of coherence that held the figures together. One by one, they disintegrated into nothingness, their forms dissolving into the mist that surrounded them.

When the last figure had vanished, Alexandria opened her eyes, breathing heavily from the effort. The mist began to clear, the environment shifting back to the neutral state of the Danger Room. Professor Xavier watched her carefully, his expression thoughtful.

"That was… impressive," he said slowly. "You managed to dismantle the dream construct entirely. It’s not something many can do with such precision and control."

Alexandria gave a small shrug, though there was a hint of pride in her eyes. "It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be."

"Perhaps not," Professor Xavier conceded, "but it’s still a significant achievement. You have a natural talent for manipulating dreams, and with more training, you could become even more adept at using it in a variety of situations."

She nodded, though her mind was still processing what she had just done. The power she had over dreams was something she had always taken for granted—something she used out of necessity rather than choice. But now, seeing it in a different light, she realized that it could be more than just a defense mechanism. It could be a weapon, a tool to be wielded with precision and purpose.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tumult of thoughts in her head.

Professor Xavier shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not today. You’ve done more than enough. Take some time to rest and reflect on what you’ve learned. We’ll continue your training tomorrow."

Alexandria nodded once more, feeling a sense of satisfaction despite herself. She had proven what she was capable of, not just to Professor Xavier, but to herself. And as she left the Danger Room, her mind was already racing with possibilities—ways to refine her abilities, to push herself even further.

---

Later that evening, Alexandria found herself back in her room, the events of the day replaying in her mind. She had gone through the motions of dinner, but her thoughts had been elsewhere, focused on what she had done in the Danger Room. It was strange, feeling proud of herself—strange, but not entirely unwelcome.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes drifting to the small window that looked out over the grounds of the school. The sun had long since set, the sky a deep, inky black dotted with stars. There was a sense of calm that settled over the mansion at night, a quiet that she found comforting.

But even in the silence, her mind wouldn’t rest. She kept thinking about her training, about what she could do better—how she could push herself further. There was always more to learn, more to improve upon. And for the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of purpose—a drive to be better, not just for herself, but for those around her.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the knock on her door until it was almost too late. Startled, she looked up just as the door opened, revealing Logan standing in the doorway, his usual gruff expression in place.

"Got a minute?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Alexandria blinked, surprised by his presence. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon—if at all. But she nodded, gesturing for him to come in.

Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t sit, instead choosing to lean against the wall near the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He studied her for a moment, his gaze intense.

"Heard you had a good session in the Danger Room today," he said finally, his tone neutral.

Alexandria shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "It was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle."

"That so?" Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he didn’t quite believe her. "From what I hear, you took down those constructs like they were nothing. Even managed to mess with a dream scenario without breaking a sweat."

She glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. It was hard to tell with Logan—he was so closed off, so guarded. But there was something in his tone, something that told her he was impressed, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

"Yeah," she said, her voice quieter now. "It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be."

Logan grunted, his expression unreadable. "You’re good, kid. Real good. But don’t let it go to your head. There’s always gonna be someone stronger, faster, better. And you gotta be ready for that."

Alexandria nodded, understanding the truth in his words. She knew she wasn’t invincible—far from it. But hearing it from Logan, someone who had seen more than his fair share of battles, made it hit home in a way she hadn’t expected.

"I know," she said, her voice firm. "I’m not looking to be the best. I just want to be ready for whatever comes next."

Logan studied her for a moment longer, then nodded, as if satisfied with her response. "Good. Keep that mindset, and you’ll do just fine."

There was a pause, a silence that stretched out between them. Alexandria wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure why Logan was here in the first place. But she found that she didn’t mind his presence, even if it was unexpected.

"You ever think about what comes next?" she asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Logan looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "Every damn day," he said quietly. "But it ain’t about what’s next. It’s about surviving what’s in front of you. One day at a time, one fight at a time."

She nodded slowly, taking in his words. It made sense, in a way—living in the moment, focusing on the now. But it was hard for her, always thinking ahead, always planning for the future. She wasn’t sure she knew how to just live in the moment.

But maybe, with time, she could learn.

"Thanks, Logan," she said after a moment, her voice sincere. "For everything."

He gave a small nod, his expression softening just a fraction. "Anytime, kid. Anytime."

And with that, he turned and left the room, leaving Alexandria alone with her thoughts once more. But this time, the silence wasn’t as heavy—it was filled with the possibility of what could be, of what she could become.

She had a long way to go, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was on the right path. And that was enough.

For now.

i translated a part of 'wuthering heights' into russian and then changed my mind and made all the russian into english, except for that one section since my book is back home and i'm halfway across the country at college. but, you get the gist.