#i will drop some snippets of the fic on here at some point soon

[greghatecrimes]

A recent addition to this fic/AU as it’s slowly being written:

The property that House and Wilson’s ‘farmhouse’ is on is a frequent hunting ground of many local stray cats. The cats love to greet Wilson (whether by rubbing up against him or just walking near him) when they see him, so Wilson starts leaving food out for them in return. There’s five or six ‘regulars’ that individually stop by at different times during the day/week.

After Wilson dies, House finds it hard to continue Wilson’s habit of feeding the cats. He does it when he has the energy to get around to it (which isn’t often, since the entire thing reminds him of Wilson, after all), but he’s nowhere near consistent with it. Still, the cats keep coming, even when Wilson is no longer around. After House brings Thirteen to his place, she ends up taking up the torch of leaving food out for the cats on her own, without being asked or knowing that it was something Wilson did.

Eventually, Thirteen mentions the cats to House. She finds out that they’ve been around for a while, are fairly fond of House (for the most part, even if House pretends not to be fond of them), and that House and Wilson even gave them names. The cats are as follows:

Robbie, a fluffy golden cat that’s bigger than the others, highly affectionate, and was the first to approach Wilson;

Remy, a willowy, clever, and slightly elusive brown tabby;

Foreman, a disgruntled gray cat that looks about two seconds away from committing murder at any given moment, and who will swat at House if he gets too close;

Foster, a playful young tuxedo who is the reason why there’s a basket full of cat toys, mainly purchased by Wilson, on the front porch (his full name is Lawrence, but he is only ever called by his nickname);

and finally, a tortoiseshell with piercing blue eyes that watches House with a startling level of awareness and responds to “Cutthroat Bitch”.

[bravoechoes]

on the topic of Final Reckoning being the most bleak thing ever. this is a work in progress snippet of a larger post-MI8 fic that I probably won’t have time to work on for a while. tw for Ethan being like catatonically depressed and passively suicidal

———

It’s quiet when he wakes up. This is wrong.

Ethan’s hand feels at his side. The scratchy material of the old cot rubs against his skin, and then his fingertips find cool, hard plastic. There’s a tremor in his hand as he brings the recorder up into focus, squinting at it in the dim light of the room. Thumbing the play button does nothing. Dead battery again. 

He sits up. It’s morning, fortunately, so the yellowed light coming in from the papered-over windows dimly illuminates the interior of the building. It’s warm, too, enough that he sweat through his jacket during the night. He doesn’t shrug it off; it’s still preferable to being cold.

Getting his boots planted on the bare wooden floor, he begins rocking on the bed, building up momentum for standing. It’s always the hardest part. He just has to get through the initial wave of pain, and then it’s fine. One, two, three….

His cry echoes throughout the upper floor of the building, ceilings high and empty. Clenching his teeth, he stands half-hunched, free hand braced on his thigh, waiting for the tremors to work through his body. They’re getting better, he thinks, or at least they aren’t getting worse.

Once he’s steady enough, he limps towards the stash of supplies he’d set on a table in the north-eastern corner of the room, away from the windows. He grabs a water bottle from the open pack—eight left; he’ll need to buy more soon—and swallows some of it down. He checks his phone: six missed calls from Benji, four of which had ended with a voicemail. 

The small box of batteries are right by the front, where he’d left them. He lifts the cardboard lid with a finger. Six packets of four are left, and the open one has two inside. He hasn’t measured it out exactly, but he thinks they’ll last him a few months still.

Ethan takes another drink of water. It’s warm in his mouth, which is nice. Setting the water bottle and recorder down, he flexes his hands, clenched and open, clenched and open. This is the other hard part. His fine motor skills are still out of whack. He’s sure one of the messages Benji left him is to remind him to go to a doctor.

He spends the next few minutes extracting the dead double-As from the exposed back of the recorder, watching his fingers tremble. The first one is always the more difficult one to pull out, but he eventually does it, and sets both of them down on the table. They immediately roll off the edge and drop onto the bare floor. 

Now to open the plastic wrap around the batteries. Thankfully, one of the packets is open already, so he can just crush the plastic in his hand until it deforms enough to shake the batteries out. He’ll have to peel open a new one next time. The next replacement will be harder, take longer.

He has to press the body of the recorder down onto the table to hold it steady as he slots the fresh batteries inside. It’s too dim to see where the plus and minus indicators are, but he memorised the positions awhile ago. 

The joints in his fingers are already starting to hurt again. He’d snapped the latches on the protective plastic backing of the recorder at some point, purely by accident. It makes replacing the batteries easier, although he has to be careful about not knocking them out.

All done. With a sigh of relief, Ethan flips it around, rewinding to the beginning and pressing the play button.

“Hello, brother.”

Ethan smiles, a wave of calm washing over him. “Hey, Luther,” he whispers, and grabs his water bottle. 

“If you’re listening to this, the world is still here. And so are you.”

He limps back to the cot. His boots echo on the bare wood floor, loud enough that he has to hold the recorder up by his ear so he doesn’t miss Luther’s voice. He half-collapses back onto the cot, setting the water bottle down on the floor next to him and placing the recorder on his chest.

“For the record, I never had any moment of doubt. I knew you’d find a way. You always do.”

Ethan settles back into the thin mattress, letting his eyes slip closed. He’s got a few hours still before the hunger gets bad again. For now he can rest.

“I hope in time you can see this life was not some quirk of fate.”

Following along, his lips form silently around the words as Luther speaks them, caressing the inside of his mouth.

“This was your calling.”

———

Benji’s really getting on his case again. The next time Ethan checks his phone, there’s a ream of unread messages, sent over the course of the last ten days. He should’ve looked at it sooner.

Hey man, how you doing?

You doing okay?

Ethan?

Are you eating at least?

Im gonna come find you if you don’t respond to me.

Ethan. Just checking in

Youre starting to really worry me

Please answer me man. I only need to know if youre alive. I don’t care about anything else

Ethan

Please

I will find you, you know

We’re all worried about you. You still have people who care about you. You can call anytime, anywhere, I’ll pick up. I’m not mad

Proof of life. Just send me that. a thumbs up or something. anything. Then I’ll leave you alone 

I promise

He swallows down the resentment and the guilt with a bite of the energy bar in his hand. Benji’s just being nice. But he’s forcing the issue, and now Ethan can’t put it off any longer; he knows the threat of searching for him isn’t an idle one.

Proof, Ethan sends back, and then Sorry. It hurts his knuckles to type. Relief washes over him as he sets his phone down on the floor next to the cot. He won’t have to deal with that again for another week.

He presses play on the recorder.

“I hope you know I’ll always love you, brother. And I will see you again. Though I hope it’s not too—”

Ethan thumbs the rewind.

“—know I’ll always love you, brother. And I will see you—”

“—hope you know I’ll always love you, brother. And I will see—”

“—you know I’ll always love you, brother—”

“—I’ll always love you, brother.”

———

Benji lied to him, obviously. Of course he came looking for him. He shouldn’t have said anything.

He wakes to someone gently shaking his shoulder. “Ethan. Hey.”

His head is pounding. The building is quiet, aside from Benji. Batteries must have died again.

Ethan opens his eyes. It’s light, mid-afternoon. Deep yellow. He feels for the recorder. It had slipped from his chest, down to his side.

Benji’s face comes into focus, breaking out into a smile that’s almost convincing.

“Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you.”

“Benji.” He clears his throat. It’s dry. He needs water.

“Come on. Sit up.”

He lets Benji do the heavy lifting. His hands feel good on shoulders at least, gentle and warm. Ethan avoids his eyes, not wanting to deal with the poorly-concealed look of horror Benji is giving him. He hisses as he gets upright, and his hand wraps around the recorder so Luther doesn’t slide off the cot.

“There we go.” Benji grabs one of the mostly-full water bottles from the floor. “Here.”

Ethan blinks as a wave of dizziness washes over him. It doesn’t sound like anyone else is around. Benji came alone. A small blessing.

“Can you….” He coughs around the dryness in his throat.

“What is it?” Benji’s kneeling in front of him, eager. “Ethan, you should drink.”

“Yeah.” He takes the bottle. “Change these,” he says, offering the recorder to Benji. “The batteries. Table.”

“Sure,” he replies tentatively, frowning down at the recorder as he stands up. “As long as you drink.”

A fair trade. Ethan does. It’s warm, but not as warm as it used to be. The weather is starting to get cooler. He’ll have to relocate soon.

“How long have you been here?” Benji asks, his back to him. Ethan watches his hands work where he stands at the supply table. He can change the batteries a lot faster.

“What day is it?” Ethan asks.

“Thursday.”

“The date.”

Benji turns, recorder in hand, expression pinched. “September 24th.”

“September,” Ethan repeats, frowning. “Uh—I don’t know. Few weeks.”

Benji comes back to his bedside, handing Ethan the recorder. He holds it against his chest.

“I rented out a motorway hotel room you can stay in for the next month,” Benji says, standing over him. “It’s a lot nicer than this place. Is there even running water here?”

“There’s a bathroom on the lower floor.”

“Can you walk?”

He rubs his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ethan—” Benji looks around, eyes lingering on the exposed insulation and pipes. “You can’t stay here.”

“My stuff’s here.”

“The supplies on the table, you mean?” Benji looks over his shoulder. “I can move all of that for you. I have a car.”

Ethan sets the water bottle down on the bed next to him, wiping his mouth. “Leave me alone, Benji. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, and no I won’t.” 

His voice is forceful but not unkind. Ethan finally looks up at him.

“Come with me,” Benji says softly. It’s hard to meet the warmth in his eyes. “We’ll get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”

“Benji, I’m fine—”

“It’ll get cold soon,” he interrupts. “You don’t even have a blanket.”

Ethan pauses. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Benji smiles at him, way too sad. “Yes I do. Come on, Ethan. Please.”

He looks down at Benji’s outstretched hand. It feels good to talk to someone, and Benji’s a nice someone to talk to. It’s not Luther’s voice, but it’s a lot better than silence.

Ethan nods. “Okay. Yeah.”

———

Benji’s uncharacteristically quiet as he drives them to the motel. Ethan doesn’t have the stamina for it; his fingers keep brushing the play button of the recorder, aching for Luther’s voice. Any voice, really.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ethan asks eventually. 

Benji gives him a side-eye. “What?”

“When you were moving my things. I saw you wincing.”

“Oh, that.” Benji’s hands shift restlessly on the wheel. It’s really bright outside; Benji gave him his sunglasses to block some of it out. “Nothing major. Risks of the job, y’know. I’m healing.”

He can’t rest his head anywhere but the seat headrest. The car rattles too much. His head lolls against the thin cushion, staring blankly out the front window. “What’s nothing major mean?”

“Well, I….” Benji trails off with a nervous laugh. He looks at Ethan again, properly this time. “Nothing as bad as you.”

“I’m not gonna die if you tell me.” It takes a lot, but he offers Benji a smile. “I can handle it.”

“Just—you look like you’ve got a lot on your mind, is all.” His eyes flick down to the recorder, still clutched to Ethan’s chest. “What is that, by the way?”

“A recorder.”

Benji gives him a sour look. “Ethan.”

“Tell me what happened to you and I’ll tell you what this is,” he bargains.

“No way. You still haven’t even told me what you’ve been up to.”

“You saw what I’ve been up to.”

Benji gives him another one of his pinched worried looks. It makes the lines on his face crease together, especially deep around his eyes. Deeper than Ethan remembers them being.

“Tell me….” Ethan swallows. His throat is dry again. “Tell me what you’ve been doing the past few weeks.”

Benji scoffs. “You’re awfully demanding.”

“I don’t like the sound of my own head. And I like listening to you.”

That seems to be enough to get Benji going. “Uh, well, I’ve been recovering, mostly. Nothing serious, like I said,” he adds quickly. “Decompressing, y’know. Been in London for the most part. But I’ve spent a lot of time in bed, and it’s quite boring if you’re not sleeping, so I’ve been reading French novels to get my vocabulary back up. It’s the only common language I have with Paris that either of us have any fluency in, and she’s stuck around for some reason. Well, kind of. She disappears randomly. Kind of like you. But it’s been good. I’ve been walking Grace through some….”

Ethan closes his eyes as he listens to Benji talk. It’s a soothing babble of noise, and he especially likes hearing about the others. Grace is alive. Paris and Degas are alive. And Benji is here, alive, right in front of him. It’s good to be reminded of it.

[gulliblelemon]

Birthday more-than-snippet

As my birthday gift to myself, I'm giving you the first 1.2k words of my next fic. (Still hasn't gone through my whole editing/beta process yet, but I wanted to share anyway). It is, as yet, untitled (obviously - I'm still me), but here is the some context for the 'no context' fic 💜

~🏳️‍🌈💜🏳️‍🌈~

The slamming door makes Wille jump. He’s been sulking, leaning against the wall, waiting for his turn to be called into his mother’s office. A summons is rarely a good thing where Wille is concerned. He’s the fuck-up, the let-down, the disappointment who continuously fails and falls short of his mother’s expectations. 

Not like poster-boy Erik. Poster-boy Erik who is currently storming out of his mother’s office and away from Wille.

There’s a split second of shock, where Wille doesn’t quite know how to react, he half pushes off the wall, ready to tear down the corridor after Erik before he hears a voice calling out of the office.

“Come in, Wilhelm!”

He hesitates a moment longer before sighing and stomping into the office, ready to defend himself for something he doesn’t even know he’s done yet.

“Sit down, Wilhelm,” his mother says, gesturing to the chair opposite.

The seat is cold and unforgiving, not unlike the expression currently residing on his mother’s face. She looks at him for a beat, lips pursed, calculating, before shaking her head and sighing. 

For a moment, Wille is taken aback. It’s a surprisingly vulnerable noise from her, and not one he is used to hearing. It’s less surprising than the words that follow. “Thank you for coming, Wilhelm. I appreciate you making the time at such short notice.”

Thinking of his exceptionally empty schedule of mostly moping around and feeling sorry for himself after being torn apart by the media for a club fight that wasn’t his fault, Wille just nods. “Of course,” he says, not wanting to rock the boat. 

She sighs again before exclaiming, “If we could have one week without a scandal! Is that too much to ask?”

Shocked, Wille tries to rack his brain for what else he might have done wrong this week but is interrupted by Kristina shaking her head and saying, “Sorry, that was unfair of me. What I actually called you in her to say is: we are postponing your transfer to Hillerska. Potentially indefinitely.”

What? Wille knows his mouth drops open at her words, but he just can’t comprehend what she’s saying. 

“I know it’ll be coming as a shock, goodness knows the whole this is a shock to all of us. Honestly, Erik should have known bet—”

“I’m sorry… what?” Wille finally says, spluttering an interruption, much to his mother’s chagrin.

She purses her lips and exhales through her nose. And this is more familiar territory, this he is used to, this barely concealed annoyance and her obvious displeasure at his mere existence. 

But it soon melts into something else, and she closes her eyes, massaging the point between her eyebrows for a moment before lowering her hands and clasping them in front of her.

“It has come to our attention,” she says, “that some of the things that go on at Hillerska are things that we do not want The Royal Family to be associated with.”

“Things?” Wille says. “What things?”

“That is none of your concern,” she says. “We have simply decided that at the present time, it would be prudent to send you elsewhere. Distance ourselves from Hillerska and its reputation.”

“Is this why Erik stormed out?” Wille asks. “What happened?”

“I have already said—”

“If it’s public knowledge, I’m going to find out sooner or later,” he says. “And surely it’s better to hear it from you than some gossip magazine.”

He’s not even sure why he’s pushing so hard, except that for once, Erik might have fucked up more than he has. And that alone is enough to make him more than a little bit smug.

Kristina is looking at him carefully, her face is exceptionally still although her eyes have narrowed slightly. “I suppose you are right,” she says eventually, and he lets out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Maybe hearing it from us would end up being better. Well” - she uncrosses and recrosses her hands on the table, it’s as close to a nervous tick as she gets - “it appears that the Hillerska initiation ceremonies have become somewhat more vulgar in the years since your father and I were there. We have been made aware of the fact that there was some… inappropriate behaviour. Behaviour that will be frowned upon by the public. Especially when taken out of context.”

“What like?” Wille says, trying not to sound too eager. Erik had always brushed off the Hillerska initiations, and told Wille he’d find out when he had one himself. 

“We have been made aware that some of the students were forced to… undress.”

Wille baulks. That seems a bit excessive. The idea of having to strip in front of new classmates seems awkward at best. Embarrassing and humiliating. Although Erik had said that the point of the initiation was to prove that no one was above anyone else, a shared experience to bring the new students closer together. And maybe it’s no worse than having to change in the locker room anyway…

“They were also,” Kristina continues, “made to watch an… unsavoury film.”

Wille screws up his face. “I’m sorry… a what?”

“A… pornographical film, I am led to believe.”

Wille’s stomach turns. “Seriously?” he says. And that’s way worse than getting changed in a locker room. He doesn’t want to believe it. Doesn’t want to believe that Erik would have been involved in something like that, but also doesn’t want to believe that Erik would have sent him to Hillerska knowing that that was going to happen to Wille without warning him. Not without—

“A pornographical film depicting… relations between two young men.”

It feels as though the floor has been pulled out from beneath him and he is free falling. Wille gasps and it gets caught in his throat. Through a splutter, he says, “A— they showed them a gay porn film?”

Kristina curls her lip in distaste. And Wille doesn’t want to know if it’s distaste at the act of showing it to unsuspecting first years who have been stripped of their clothes, or if it's because of the content of the film. Wille hasn’t come out to his family, or to anyone in fact. It is a secret that he carries with him, slowly festering, breaking him down from the inside. But no one needs to know. It doesn’t make any difference. He can bear it, he can carry it through life and tell no one. 

But can he bear the knowledge that Erik would— That Erik thought it was fun to laugh at that, to put people in the position of— No. Wille can’t. It’s too much. He wants to vomit. And he wants to run. And he wants to scream.

He does none of those things. 

“Apparently so,” Kristina says, with a small shake of her head, as if it’s just a small inconvenience, as if Wille’s views of his brother have not just been completely upended. Maybe Erik wasn’t actually involved. Maybe he was against it. Yes, that must be it. It can’t be that his brother would do that. There’s no way.

“So, understandably, we cannot have you beginning to attend, at least until this is all sorted out.”

Still reeling, Wille says, “Sorted out?”

“Yes. We need to either deny the claims that Erik was involved. Or - if that is not possible - at least do something to regain the public’s trust in the institution. And ourselves. Honestly, Erik should have known better.”

Yes, Wille thinks, he should.

“Can I go?” is what he says instead. 

She looks at him for a moment, then says, “Yes, I suppose there’s nothing further to discuss at the moment.”

Nodding his head, he stands and practically flees from the room.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece. 

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon. 

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?” 

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.” 

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent. 

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull. 

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused. 

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it. 

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.” 

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.” 

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy. 

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face. 

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar. 

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?” 

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far.  “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…” 

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?” 

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?” 

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ” 

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus. 

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before. 

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar. 

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand. 

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in  conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company. 

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin. 

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her. 

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?” 

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan. 

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd. 

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static. 

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues. 

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?! 

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.” 

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” 

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?” 

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

[skribbledarker]

On my knees on the floor in the ground BEGGING U TO FINISH THAT ORAL FIXATION FIC THE WORLD NEEDS MORE ZOSAN ORAL FIXATION FIC THANK YOU

And if u don’t wanna do it then still tHANK U FOR WRITING WHAT U HAVE

Hey….. drops another snippet of my zosan oral fixation/ l hand + finger kink fic(it kind of morphed into that dont ask me how idk) and then runs away really fast. Anon i promise the oral fixation part is coming soon just wait a sec… also for people who need context u can find the first snippet i posted right here!!

CW suggestive// nsfw!!

—

The cook leans down, catching him in another bruising kiss. Sanji tastes like tobacco and sugar, which would be unpleasant if it wasn’t him that Zoro was tasting. Idly, Zoro thinks it probably shouldn’t make a difference who he’s kissing, but he files that inkling away for later in favor of gripping the meat of Sanji’s thighs and making the cook squirm. Sanji groans at the contact, open-mouthed and desperate. He winds his fingers into Zoro’s hair and tugs, wrenching the swordsman’s head up again to lay ragged kisses along his throat. Everywhere that Sanji touches him feels inexplicably hot, makes him dizzy with want— so much that when Sanji pulls away Zoro almost follows him up.

“I don’t put my hands on just anyone, you know,” Sanji breathes, absently cracking his knuckles while his eyes rove smugly over Zoro’s figure. He looks messy, coiffed hair mussed to hell with splotchy red painting his neck and face. Zoro wants to pop open Sanji’s collar, see how far down the flush goes and trace its borders with his mouth. See what sounds the cook would make if he did.

He doesn’t though; justs fights the urge to roll his eyes instead. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

“What do you want?” Sanji asks him, even though Zoro thinks he made it pretty fucking obvious what he wants.

“Anything. Just—” Touch me, please. “Anything.”

“That’s hot as hell.”

Zoro scowls. “Fuck. You.”

And like the haughty shit he is, the only thing Sanji hums in response is, “Yeah, maybe later,” before his slender fingers wrap around Zoro’s throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just loosely resting his hand there, but Zoro still feels his own breath shorten at the promise of what’s to come.

Sanji has this look, on his face, dark and settling heavy over the swordsman even through his pale lashes; he thumbs over Zoro’s pulse point once, twice, before pressing down on it lightly. “S’that what you want?”

Zoro isn’t into the habit of lying. “Yes.” He swallows, and can feel his Adam's apple press against Sanji’s palm. “I—Harder.”

“Fucking freak,” Sanji murmurs, despite the fact that his own voice has gone husky with lust— Zoro can feel him, just as hard and insistent where he grinds down onto Zoro’s lap. Hypocrite. “Say please first.”

“You’re an ass—” The hand around Zoro’s neck squeezes, and he can’t help the way his eyes flutter closed, can’t help the choked sound that rips its way out of him. The feeling is nothing short of intoxicating, and all Zoro wants is more. “—Oh, fuck.” And then there’s even more pressure on his throat as Sanji grips him harder, carefully manicured nails digging into the soft flesh there.

“You like that? Want me to bruise you, moss?” Sanji asks into Zoro’s ear, low and imploring.

Yes, Yes, Zoro wants to say, but he can’t seem to focus long enough to get the words out. His cock throbs within the confines of his pants, the incessant movement of Sanji on his lap clouding his mind. All he can do is pant and gasp, rolling his hips in time with the cook’s to try and get some form of release. He could come like this— he really could.

—

okay yeah THANK YOU ANON FOR REMINDING THIS FIC EXISTED!! i have so many WIPs i lowkey forgot this existed but here u go ahh lalalala. I’m making progress so the rest should be out fairly soon? okay yeah thanks bye

[fkinkindagauche]

II Most Wanted - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of the murder fic is up on AO3! Content Warnings for this chapter - brief hospital setting, graphic descriptions of murder, blood. Word count for chapter 2 is 6.2K. See this post for full details including tag list for the fic.

Chapter Summary:

Steve and Robin make plans to protect Eddie.

Snippet below.

Neither Steve nor Robin managed to sleep at all that night. They stayed at the hospital, even though Wayne kept encouraging them to go home. He promised to call them if he got any updates, but they weren't willing to leave.

Steve's stomach fell when he saw a doctor hurrying toward them a little after seven the following morning. He couldn't get a read of the situation from the doctor's facial expression.

"Eddie's stabilized," the doctor announced once they got into a consult room. "We'll need to keep him on the ventilator for the time being to give his body some time to recover, but we should be able to wean him off in a week or so."

Wayne sighed, his relief palpable in the room around them. Robin put her head between her knees and muttered, "Thank god." Steve felt like he was going to cry.

"Can we see him?" Steve asked.

The doctor glanced at him. "Only family allowed in the ICU."

"They're family," Wayne announced. "His brother and sister. I'm their uncle."

Steve wanted to hug the man. The doctor gave them all a skeptical look, but didn't fight it. He sighed and said, "A nurse will come get you when you can come back to see him. He's sedated, so you won't be able to talk to him, but you can see him."

"Thanks, Wayne," Steve said after the doctor left them.

Wayne shrugged. "Ya basically are family at this point. No reason you shouldn't be allowed to see him."

As soon as they were back in the ICU, Steve wished Wayne hadn't been so nice. Seeing Eddie sedated in a hospital bed again, tubes down his throat and sticking out of his arms, made Steve want to howl. They'd just been here, watching Eddie recover from the demobats. This wasn't fair.

Robin sensed his mood, reaching out to grab his hand and give it a squeeze. He squeezed back.

They finally went home around noon. Steve dropped Robin off at her place, then collapsed into his own bed and slept until evening.

He called Robin as soon as he woke up.

"I just got off the phone with Hopper," Robin said in lieu of a greeting.

"Yeah? What'd he have to say?"

"A whole lot of nothing," she said with an aggrieved sigh. "He says he 'can't discuss details of an ongoing investigation'. But I saw Jason at the sandwich shop right before I talked to him, so clearly Hopper hasn't taken him into custody."

"Fuck." Steve rubbed his hands over his face. "What're we gonna do?"

"We need to get Hopper to talk to us," she said. "Come pick me up, we can go to the cabin together."

"Shouldn't we go back to the hospital?" Steve asked. He knew Eddie would still be asleep, but he felt a visceral need to make sure he was okay.

"Just called Wayne. Eddie's still stable, but sedated. We can't do anything at the hospital."

She'd been busy. "Did you sleep at all?" Steve asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "I just can't stop seeing all that blood. And him laying there on the floor…"

"Yeah," Steve agreed. He felt kind of bad for how easy it had been for him to fall asleep. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. "Alright, I'll be over in fifteen minutes."

Robin looked like shit when she got into the car. He probably didn't look much better. They pulled up in front of Hopper's cabin, and ran to the door. Steve banged on it with all the frustration that had been building up inside of him.

"What the fuck?" Hopper yelled as he wrenched the door open. He dropped his belligerent posture when he saw it was Robin and Steve, his shoulders sagging.

"Was wondering when you two would show up," he said, opening the door wide for them. They walked in, sitting down on the couch. Steve nearly upset an ashtray overflowing with cigarettes as he sat down.

"Where's El?" Robin asked, looking around.

"Sleepover with Max." Hopper sighed, sinking into the couch. He had dark circles under his eyes, and was still wearing his rumpled police uniform. Possibly even yesterday's uniform, given the smell.

"Why haven't you arrested Jason?" Steve demanded.

Hopper sighed. "He's got an alibi, Steve. He was at Patrick McKinney's house with a couple of other guys."

Steve snorted. "They're lying."

"Steve, no one saw him at the trailer park last night. There's no evidence from the scene pointing to him as a culprit. He has an alibi. I can't just accuse a bunch of people of lying based on your gut feeling and absolutely zero concrete evidence."

"Then do a lie detector test or something!" Steve yelled. "I'm telling you, Hopper. Jason did it."

"Lie detectors don't actually work, Harrington," Hopper said. "And I don't know why you're so sure about this. Carver's a little shit, yeah. But a murderer? I don't think so. Everyone around town knew Munson was a dealer. Some junkie probably broke in, tried to rob him, and something went wrong."

"No way!" Steve was irate. How could Hopper try and pin this on some random junkie? "You're fucking wrong! And you're a shit cop!" Steve choked out, unable to stem the flow of tears in his frustration.

Robin grabbed his arm. "Steve," she said. "It's alright." He turned to start screaming at her, to ask her why she was all of a sudden on Hopper's side, when he saw the look in her eyes. She squeezed his arm. Through their borderline telepathic bond, he could tell that she had a plan, and wanted him to drop this.

He sent her a small nod, then let out a deep sigh and turned back to Hopper. "I'm sorry, Hopper," he said. "I'm just… strung out. Didn't sleep much." Robin squeezed his arm one more time. "You're probably right. I don't know why I'm so sure it's Jason." Robin let his arm go.

Hopper nodded at Steve. "It's alright, kid. I understand. Go get some sleep. I'll let you guys know if I find anything out."

Steve turned to Robin as soon as the car doors shut behind them. "So what's your plan?" he asked.

She glanced at where Hopper was still standing at the door of the cabin. "I don't wanna talk about it here. Let's go back to your place."

Steve tried to get her to talk about it once they'd pulled out of Hopper's driveway and were back on the road, but she wouldn't. She didn't start talking until they were in Steve's bedroom with the door shut.

"You do realize there's no one else in this house?" Steve teased as he watched her lock the door. She glared at him.

"We need to kill Jason," she said. He'd had an inkling this was where the conversation would be going after what she'd said at the hospital the night before.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Looks like we do."

She collapsed onto the bed beside him with a groan, throwing an arm over her face. "How do we kill someone?"

"I dunno. Shoot him? Stab him? Hit him really hard on the head?"

Robin scoffed, turning toward Steve and pulling the arm from her face. "No way. Those are all too messy."

"Well then what? Poison? Carbon monoxide?" Back when his parents had still been home occasionally, his mom watched murder mysteries constantly. He knew all sorts of ways to kill people.

Robin sat up abruptly. "Exactly how we do it isn't as important as how we keep from getting caught."

"Make it look like an accident?" Steve suggested.

Robin hummed. "Maybe. Seems difficult." She tapped a finger against her lips, deep in thought, then stood up and started to pace.

Steve tried to think about the problem as well, but his head hurt, and he was more exhausted than he remembered being since they'd finished Vecna off. He curled up on his bed and closed his eyes.

Robin took the hint. He heard her call her mom, telling her she was spending the night, then she crawled into bed beside Steve. She pulled the covers over both of them, then wrapped an arm around his waist. "We'll talk about it more in the morning," she said, squeezing Steve.

He had a feeling she was just going to lay there thinking all night, but he, at least, needed to sleep to use his brain. He drifted off, comforted by the reassuring weight of his best friend at his back.

Continue on AO3.

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 27 - In Magazines and On TV | ‘Ours’

word count - 9.2 k

When you heard the doorbell of the house ring throughout the rooms echoing, your heart almost dropped. It was the day of your interview for British GQ. Trent had gone to training already in the morning and you had been sitting impatiently in your kitchen waiting for Bentley Brown to arrive for what felt like hours at this point since. 

“Hi, I’m so happy to have you. Come in, come in. Erm… it’s just Teddy and I here at the moment. Trent should be home a little later on. I apologize if she’s in the way, we’re not keen on babysitting currently but anyhow, can I get you anything? I put out a spread but anything really, I can get.” You babbled nervously letting Mr. Brown and a small team of people in through the foyer of your house. You had set up all sorts of drinks and light bites in your dining room for him and his team but you were just worried, no amount of preparation or niceties would calm you.  

“Y/N, we’re perfectly fine. Thank you for having us. I’m really looking forward to speaking. We’ll just have a conversation, keep it relaxed. Not to worry.” He smiled sensing your nerves, following you into your living room that you had meticulously cleaned and arranged to be set for the interview down to correctly aligning the large books just the right way on your coffee table.  

“We can sit in the living room. If that’s alright.” You sat down on the boucle couch in your living room pulling your legs up onto the couch bathed in sunlight. You sat there fidgeting, worried how the words coming out of your mouth would look in print. Suddenly the dark washed denim jeans you were in felt incredibly constricting. He came with a personal assistant and a camera as well as a sound guy to record the conversation. Tyler said he would stop by at some point to make sure everything was fine. He had already really managed the entire operation for you. You didn’t need a ‘manager’ day to day but this was a big opportunity so he was just taking care of you as his sister and organizing this interview. It was massive this was happening so you prayed it went well.  

You sat in the office of your home at a big desk in the dark illuminated by the your mac’s screen as you read the edit of Mr. Brown’s piece that would be going to print soon weeks later. You read line by line and tried your best to view it as a third party and not be critical of how you sounded in it. 

- article snippet -

'When I first met Y/N. I immediately thought what a beautiful woman. It was no surprise she was entangled in a relationship with a professional footballer. It took me by surprise though when Trent Alexander-Arnold introduced her as his fiancé, now his wife after a wedding in New York this summer. She was kind, polite, had an infectious laugh, and really seemed to have a way about her that left you wanting more. More of what you ask? That’s exactly what I wanted to know. What made the person standing next to a highly regarded athlete more interesting and drawing. That’s not to say he is not but she was a mysteriously demure yet electric and people noticed.  When she walked in, every man’s head turned. Isay this with great mind to the people they are but externally the pair turns heads. They are beautiful and beautifully matched with the other drowning in the luxuries of their lifestyle in a way that has you paying attention. There’s minimal logo mania or flashy pieces that are trending. It’s all curated and quiet, as are they. Timelessly woven and carefully chosen. I arrived at the newlywed Alexander Arnold home in the greater Manchester area. A large estate tucked far back on a property in a private neighborhood. The Liverpool fullback insisted that he ‘Just wanted a place with good bones’ but this place is much more than that. I had asked Y/N where she might feel most comfortable to speak with me and she was quick to tell me none of this was comfortable for her but she’d love to have me come to their home. That was her safe space.

Y/N sat on a boucle couch in their modern minimalist living room across from me. It felt like an ad. No, the photoshoot wasn’t today, this was simply her. When I had the chance to speak to Trent alone he shook his head in disbelief telling me that his wife ‘hasn’t got a clue the effect she has on people.’ I initially had a hard time believing him but became aware of her naivety quickly watching her adjust her posture that didn’t need so, her perfectly manicured hands pull at her glossed lip, even the way she spoke had you slightly transfixed and it was the innocent yet sincere nature of it all that had you hooked. She pulled her legs up onto the couch. In dark denim, barefeet, and a tank top. Her slender frame model-esque, the jewelry dripping off her clinking every time she moved exposing her very monetarily comfortable life. Although maybe not all that comfortable. 

‘When he’s away it’s difficult. I am, we are, so lucky to have the support we do from family, friends, and the club. There are mornings or days when he’s in another time zone and I feel like a single mum momentarily but I hardly experience what they might. It’s definitely a bit of a reality check when you feel frustrated and you turn on the Telly and there he is. You know when the final whistle blows he’s returning to you. We FaceTime as much as we can. It’s hard on him as well to miss so much time away from her.” Referring to their daughter. “We travel to games if it makes sense or aligns with schedules. When she starts going to school obviously that will change but probably be a bigger adjustment for me but we deffinetly spend a lot of time on planes and at stadiums.”

“What’s that like? Does it ever feel groupie-esque?”

“I suppose. It can be hard to take a step back from it all when you’re so immersed in it. I try to view it like any other job or career anyone’s partner might have.”

“But it’s far from that and I’d go as far to say maybe even slightly more rewarding.”

“True. I mean I didn't mean to say it to diminish how accomplished he is. I couldn’t be more proud of him. More in awe of what he does. He deserves what he receives. I was unaware of the hierarchy within the sport though. The separation of treatment of players and clubs so it’s all relative what is seen as a reward. I feel like he and our family is the reward as cheesy as that sounds. I think the fans, the media, the frenzies that ensue is when I feel most groupie-esque like you said. There’s definitely plenty of times where I get stopped at a door, asked who I am, all sorts of things because as much as we share a life together it is very much his world. As it should be.” 

“You believe that it’s his world. Not a shared experience?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a shared experience but from completely different perspectives. I’m not in the dressing rooms, I’m not on the pitch, I’m not at training. I didn’t put in the sacrifice he did and still does. I’ve always said, I think I mentioned this to you when you first broached this interview, I haven’t really done anything to merit the same adoration or affection and unfortunately the criticism he receives. I make sacrifices like we all do in relationships. I didn’t love the idea of a summer wedding but when he’s in season he’s in season and that’s the way it is.” 

“Her coquettish laugh echoed through their home and I hated to break that sound and her light demeanor but I wanted to know the answer to a hard question. 'Does that ever feel disheartening to feel that way? That football has to take a priority in his life.” 

“Erm… The thing is football is a priority because it’s our entire life, everything revolves around it but I certainly don’t resent that. That said, I’m human, of course, I have my days. I am really fortunate to live the life I do but just the same way I wonder about his experiences as he does for mine. He never has been an adult unknown.”

“An adult unknown… sounds like a book title. Are you saying that in a critical way?”

“Maybe I’d use that as a title if I wrote one. I identify with it a lot.'" The sound of her laugh returned. "Growing up in Manhattan you experience this unbelievable juxtaposition going from completely anonymous on the street to receiving invitations to galas.”

“Not everyone is receiving invitations. In part a reason I am curious about her and I’m not the only one. When you google Y/N Alexander-Arnold plenty of articles emerge about her and her husband. Mostly surrounding his matches, paparazzi photos, notably the ones that shed light on their relationship years ago in a Manchester club or on a yacht in Greece with the Bellinghams, occasionally a touch point on something they have chosen to share with the public but if you dig a little deeper a click or two further appears a very interesting read. The Y/L/N family rooted in the New York City socialite scene, a dynastic surname, academic accolades at her university, her mother a philanthropist, a career in fashion, her name mentioned in articles, Getty images of her at parties, and peculiarly she never mentions any of it at all.” 

“But no, not in a critical way at all. He just entered into the spotlight before he even turned 18. An introspective lens or spotlight focused on him. I wouldn’t say I got away with things but I probably did comparatively. He couldn’t have done the things I did growing up without scrutiny.' I smiled at her because her humility is both charming and glaring a lie. Y/N was far from what one might consider ‘out of the spotlight.’”

“Now you say growing up… You’re American as you said, manhattan born. Have you adapted or adjusted to life in the UK?” 

“I’d like to think so but there is always an odd day where I say ‘band aid’ instead of ‘plaster’ and my daughter or Trent will give me stick. Although, it wasn’t entirely foreign to me but also moving to another country comes with a lot more than an adaptation to accents and vocabulary. I’m fine, I think I am at least."    

Another thing that stuck out to me in my search engine deep dive about the new Mrs. Alexander-Arnold had been her English background but I wondered more about her present than her past. Trent arrived home in the middle of our interview. Watching their exchange felt like you were in a film. Their daughter Teddy 's bare feet pitter pattering to the front door eager to greet her dad. Trent quietly snuck into the room first greeting his wife. They were magnetic. None of it a show. Nothing contrived.  His hand held her face in a way that made you question what love really was all before he pressed a kiss to her lips. He held their young daughter in his arms and she wrapped herself around him. He adjusted his hold of her before shaking my hand apologizing for interrupting. This is what I was so eager to understand. The man of the house turned to his wife and whispered in her ear asking if she was okay. I was interested in the protective nature but I understood it from the viewpoint that he was no longer a footballer, he was a father and husband. She squeezed his arm with a kiss to his cheek. Teddy adamant about receiving one as well. Y/N returned her focus back to me with an apology. 

I managed to finagle a way of getting Trent to sit with us. Teddy was now comfortably asleep in her mum’s arms. They were picturesque. I sound redundant but it pings in your brain every time you blink. 

“I really didn’t want to sit for this if I am being honest, I want this to be for her. Not in believing I could take focus off her, I mean.’ He gestured to his wife still in awe 5 years in. ‘But I get to see her everyday. I understand how incredible she is and I think more people should know.”’

Trent said that and I wondered why the secrets then. Why the push for privacy. 

“I think firstly it’s a safety thing. It’s a terrible reality but we have to be conscious of it especially with Ted." Ted's nickname that they’ve fallen into the habit of 

“I definitely didn’t understand. I was offended at first. I’m not one for attention.’ The irony as she says that because she’s had everyone captivated unintentionally. I don’t know if you remember.’ She looked at Trent” 

“I deffo remember. You weren’t thrilled and I looked horrible."

‘You didn't, I just didn’t understand. I remember leaving Anfield for the first time and camera flashes flooded the car. It was so jarring. People talking about you, sharing your image in such a strange experience."

- end of article snippet -

You closed your laptop and sighed, that was enough reading. The article was set to be published in an issue come December and you prayed that what you just read and the rest would be perceived well. You did a photoshoot for the piece at your house as well later that past week. You laid on the same couch you’d done the interview on. Trent was lying beneath you shirtless in a pair of trousers. You dragged your lips up his abs teasingly. The photographer asked you to do it again, apparently it made a good photo, you seemingly tickled Trent causing him to laugh. You giggled with a smile keeping your lips on his skin as the shutters flashed in the big room with his hands on you. Another set of photos were taken in the kitchen with you wearing a pink shimmering sequined column gown with a center floral appliqué along its halter neckline. The luxurious dress was juxtaposed by the causal feeling of being in your kitchen pretending to be cooking in it. Trent held you in his arms dressed in a suit having a taste of a little something off your finger. It was sweet and cheeky and a funny play on what your home life actually looked like. In one other setting, the magazine had Trent run on the turf in your back garden with you dressed in a cotton Mui Mui blue set thrown over his shoulder with Teddy chasing after you two giggling away. The last shot of the piece was you alone upstairs in the en suite of your bedroom. You stood in your mirror leaned forward onto the vanity applying a lip gloss in a pair of jeans unbuttoned in a Sandy Liang bra top. All in all you were happy with how they turned out and still a little amazed that they were going to be published in British GQ for everyone to see. You idolized fashion magazines growing up so the fact that you were going to be in one was bizarre. You’d been mentioned in the Mail or the Sun time and time again with Trent since you began dating but this would be tangible in your hands, this was an article with quotes from your mouth.

In the following days, marking the middle of November, Winnie had flown over which was lovely. She was on her way to Germany to see Jadon. It wasn’t the most sensible way to get there but she wanted to see your little fam so she stopped over in England first. George popped over to your house as well after Trent had come home from training. You were currently cooking dinner for the four of you and a slightly modified version of it for Teddy. 

“What are we having for dinner, baby?” Trent asked, coming into the kitchen, Teddy trailing behind him in giggles holding onto his joggers. You loved cooking dinner at home. A lot of times you had Trent’s personal chef come over to cook for him because he needed personal dietary needs but when he could just eat as normal without a match the following day you loved to make family dinners. 

“Trent, you're an adult cook for yourself.” Winnie snapped, teasingly. She was just giving him a hard time, of course. That was the banter that was bound to ensue once they were in the same room. They loved the odd jab. As girly as Winnie was, they treated each other like they were brothers. It felt like you were healing a lot of things you never got to handle during your childhood from the family you had created. You and Trent were really close with each other's siblings and friends, so having things like dinners in your warm cozy home just healed a piece of yourself. You and Winnie didn’t get to have a lot of them growing up. Dinner rarely included your dad, he was traveling, your mum, usually moderating portion sizes and it was fairly often that either you or Winnie was missing from the table, busy out and about. 

“Oh fuck off, Win!” Trent quipped with a laugh cupping his hands over Teddy’s ears. She giggled not fully grasping that it wasn’t a game he was playing but that he didn’t want her to hear his curse words. You guys were very ‘pick and choose’ when it came to cursing in front of Teddy, it was a case by case scenario. Some days it was the end of the world if she caught one, other days you didn’t even bat your eyes.

“Teddy, do you like daddy’s food? Like when I cook?” Trent uncovered her ears and crouched down in front of her. You turned away from the stove and Winnie spun on her chair to listen to her answer with smug smiles. Trent didn’t cook all that often. It was either his chef or you making him food, it used to be Dianne but he could make toast or eggs, a pasta or something for Teddy when he needed to. 

“What food, dada?” Teddy asked him in return with her cute pout agape. Her brow furrowed. You think she was trying to clarify which dish he was referring to but the response was hilarious. Winnie was quick to laugh, you attempted to bite your lip.

“Ted, don't do me like that.” Trent laughed, palming his face as he shook his head in front of her. He pulled her into his embrace and stood up, picking her up in his arms. 

“Fine, whose music do you like better though?” He asked her with a coy smile brushing his thumb over her cheek. He flicked his eyes to George as if to say ‘see, I’ll win this one.’ Trent definitely fell into a more lenient parenting style than you. If Teddy wanted to listen to pop or rap as opposed to some children's bop he’d happily obliged especially if there were his friends or teammates in the car. 

“No, no, no! That’s not fair, T. You let her listen to things she shouldn’t be.” You yelped out pausing her answer. Trent whipped his head back to Teddy after he turned to look at you kissing his teeth at your interruption. 

“You told?!? You ratted on me to mummy?” Trent laughed pretending to be shocked. He gave her a faux surprised face or maybe not all that fake. He didn’t know Teddy had told you but he had assumed you’d probably know just through just a mum’s intuition. 

“Nos.” Teddy giggled. Trent tilted his head at her knowing she was lying to him. Lying was a no go in your household but it was cute the times that she did do it. “Georgey too.” Teddy giggled some more, hugging Trent around his neck.  George let out an offended gasp.

“Oh, so you’re not only ratting on me, you’re also ratting on George. Ratted on us to mummy.”  Trent laughed, kissing her, rubbing his big hand up her back. You shook your head. Trent telling your daughter she had ‘’ratted’ on him was as childish as it was cute. 

“Don't you cook for Sanch, Win?” You asked, turning your attention off of Trent, George, and Teddy’s conversation that turned more into them giggling away, Trent tickling her before he put her down on the kitchen floor chasing her towards George.

“Erm no? I’m not doing that.” Winnie raised her brow confused like it was an insane question. Winnie wasn’t the most domestic nor did she really want to buy into that lifestyle. It wasn’t of interest to her.  She didn’t need to cook, frankly neither did you, but you liked to cook.  

“Winnie, shut up!.” You were trying not to laugh. You always wanted her to take an initiative to learn maybe more domestic things but it wasn’t for everyone and you needed to accept that.      

“What? Am I not allowed to say that?” Winnie questioned you resting her elbows on the marble island counter. She picked up her wine glass and swirled the liquid inside of it. You laughed and then took a deep breath in. 

“I mean…” You paused picking up your own wine glass with a silly smile teasing her. George scooped up a squealing Teddy with a laugh, the chaos continuing on in the kitchen. 

“I feel like I'm watching a reality show.” George quipped, giving Teddy a few kisses on her cheek before he picked up his own glass off the island before the water on the stove boiled over its pot after you had left it unattended.

“We are in a reality show.” Trent answered him surely, wiping Teddy’s cheek, nodding towards the stove seeing the pot steam and splash.  

“Oh shit…” You muttered in a panic seeing the water boil over despite Trent’s calm reaction. “What reality show are you watching, G?” You laughed trying to imagine what show George was watching, you couldn’t picture him doing that. Trent and George would love to tell everyone they were above reality telly but you knew better than that. Maybe George watched but Trent, you knew for sure. Trent would cave. He’d linger when you’d put ‘Celebs Go Dating’  or ‘Love Island’ on and then find himself cuddled up with you on the couch watching back to back episodes peppering you with questions about what was happening in the series.

“We should have one.” Winnie chimed in with maybe some seriousness to her comment. You all looked at her in disagreement. She laughed knowing it would cause a reaction. 

“No. we shouldn't.” You told her firmly turning back to tend to the pasta on the stovetop. You could never invite that type of lens into your life.

"You'll look sexy in a magazine and I know you'd look sexy on tv, I've seen your videos." Trent cheekily whispered behind you, coming to cage you in front of the stove. You giggled shaking your head at his innuendo. Yeah, sure, he'd seen a video of you with him and he'd be the only one to see it. One magazine publication was just about putting you over the edge, a reality show…never. Trent could keep his videos.

“I hate the rain. I don’t know how you live here.” Winnie quipped shivering in the stands at Anfield. You sat covered by the roof but still out in the cold late fall air as rain crashed down onto the pitch. 

“Win, I think you’ve said that every time you’ve ever visited.” You cooed to her, trying to smile and ignore the horrible horrible weather crashing down around you. The rain pelted onto the pitch. 

“Because it’s rained every time I’ve ever come.” Winnie complained, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands. You laughed, shaking your head, then turning when you heard the big glass door behind you slide open.

“Look at this little reason though. Hi baby! Did you get something yummy to eat with Marce and Ty?” You cooed spinning in your seat to see Teddy in Tyler’s arms in her little black Mocler puffer jacket and tiny white sambas kicking. They had kindly offered to take Teddy inside to get a snack before the game. You reached up and grabbed her from him and plopped her down onto your knee. She shoved a packet of apple crisps at you to show you. “Oh my goodness! These look so good. Will you share any with mummy?” You asked her and she nodded with a giggle. “ Thank you, Teddy girl. Do you see dada? Can you wave hi to him? We’ll blow him a kiss, okay?” You spoke gently to Teddy pointing down to the pitch where Trent was warming up with the team. Teddy followed the line of your finger to find him with a beautiful smile on her face mirroring his. You blew him a kiss and he returned it. You kissed her chubby cheek.   

“How do you know daddy isn’t waving to me, Ted?” Marcel chimed in with a cheeky laugh teasing Teddy from his place behind you. Teddy’s forehead wrinkled. She tilted her head towards him in confusion before falling into an adorably cute but offended pout. 

“No, Celly. Waving to Teddy.” She corrected him crawling across your lap to get closer to him in the seat next to you. She sat in the red plastic seat holding onto the back of it staring back at him in disagreement. 

“Well, what about mummy then? Is he not waving to her? Daddy only waves to you. Maybe he’s blowing a kiss to us as well.” Marcel pushed his argument a little further, moving his face to be directly in front of hers, squatting down to her level, their noses pressing to each other. His smug smile frustrating Teddy.

“Oh…” Teddy replied, taking a pause to think about what Marcel was telling her, taking in all the possibilities. Maybe it was true.  “Waves to mama and Teddy, tay?” She cooed, correcting him once more that Trent was in fact waving to you and her, not him. 

“Oh Marce, stop. It’s for you, baby. Daddy is waving to his good luck charm, huh?” Dianne cooed, plucking her up from the seat. Marcel moved to take a seat next to Winnie with Tyler. You got up and moved to the empty seat Teddy was in towards Dianne. 

“Yeah, baby. You're daddy’s good luck charm. Think he will win today?” You cooed, wiping your thumb over Teddy’s cheek. You weren’t sure how much she really understood after a win or a loss so it wasn’t that she was particularly lucky for Trent to win a match but she was definitely very comforting to him after any result. 

“Yeah huh, mama. Dada win!” She yelped excitedly as the players began to line up ahead of kick off. She pointed down to the pitch excitedly. Last season she couldn’t really hold her attention all that long but now it was slightly better. You were able to have her occupied trying to ‘find daddy’ on the pitch most of the match, of course interspersed with plenty of snacks and cuddles. 

“Can you tell me what you think the score will be?”  You asked her, zipping her coat up a little bit more. She kicked her legs off Dianne’s lap playfully thinking for a moment. 

“Five!” She squealed with a giggle when you tickled her tummy. Five was just a number she was loving at the moment mostly because she was working her way up counting and doing simple maths. You weren’t sure why that number was sticking. It didn’t really pertain to the actual result of the match which was cute. She just wanted to impress you. 

“Five what?” You laughed with a big smile continuing to squeeze at her. 

“Don’t knows…” She giggled, not being able to defend her answer. The ref blew the whistle and the first half began. You kissed her cheek encouragingly accepting five as an answer to the what the score would be. 

“Who do you think will score, Teddy girl?” Dianne asked her craning around her, pressing her cheek to hers. 

“My dada.” She answered confidently, very sure Trent was the best footballer in the world. You thought so as well but you both probably had a bit of a biased opinion. 

“I don’t know, maybeee we’ll see.” You laughed. The likelihood of Trent scoring was an odd one. Like it was possible but you didn’t want to get Teddy’s hopes up. The game ticked on and you continued peppering her with silly questions until you had one for Dianne. “Di, what do you think about one more?” You cooed, turning towards her in your seat setting down an antsy Teddy trying to run over to Winnie, Tyler, and Marcel who were coyly provoking her from afar. You plopped her down and she took off. 

“What! Are you pregnant?” Dianne suppressed a shocked yelp, harshly whispering. You weren’t totally sure why but it just had been on your mind a lot lately. Teddy was getting older and you and Trent had always said you wanted more kids but you didn’t know when you’d do that and you wanted her opinion because her boys were fairly spaced out. 

“No, no, no, I'm just, you know, curious what your thoughts were.” You cooed calmly with a smile. The thought of having another little cutie running about at matches was really adorable but it definitely rang in the back of your mind how scared you were of the actual pregnancy. She gave you her opinion but it was fairly vague and encouraging. She just said she’d be there for you, no matter what happened. Ninety-five minutes later and Trent’s post match media duties later Trent made his way up to you all. He plucked Teddy out of your arms giving her a big kiss but Teddy was disinterested holding onto a pout, turning from him. 

“Ted, what’s with the attitude, baby? What’s happening?”  Trent asked her rubbing his nose to her cheek. She remained steadfast recalling Marcel’s earlier comments before the game. 

“Baby, have to tell daddy if you’re upset, okay? Can’t just be in a huff with him.” You tried not to giggle but her pouty face was kind of funny especially considering it was identical to his “Are you upset about who daddy was waving to before the match?” You asked Teddy and she nodded with a humph.  “Apparently, you blew a kiss to Marce.” You informed Trent since Teddy seemingly wasn’t going to. 

“Oh baby bear… Trust me that's just for you. I promise.” He looked at her, turning her head towards him by her chin then looking for Marcel in the room with a glare. Getting Teddy to believe something wasn’t exactly a difficult task so Marcel had convinced her fairly easily. “I’ve never blown a kiss to Celly in my life. Just for my Teddy, alright?” Trent confirmed bringing his attention back to her.  

“And mama?” Teddy asked Trent, making sure that you and her were the only people his pre match kisses were for. You thought it was sweet she wanted to include you. 

“And mama too. Just for my Alexander-Arnold girls, okay?” He cooed, pulling you by the belt of your jeans into him. He kissed your temple. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leant your forehead to rest against Teddy’s.   

“I miss you, baby.” You whined, dragging your body to lay on top of Trent in the cinema the day after the match. Trent usually did bare minimum after match days so he was just hanging out but you were desperately missing him despite him being at home with you. You were craving a cuddle with him. You nuzzled up to him saying nothing really, just snuggling into him. 

“Wow, hello, you. You haven’t been this cuddly in ages, baby.” He cooed smiling, liking your affection. He kissed your hair before flicking his attention back to the big screen running his massive hands up and down your spine.   

“I miss you so much.” You whispered again, hiding your face in the nape of his neck. You just couldn’t get close enough to him. You breathed him in and sighed smushing your nose against him.

“I’m right here, beautiful.” He softly spoke starting to gauge that you were in a bit more of a mood then he had initially thought  but he wasn’t sure why. He was right. You hadn’t been alone and this clingy to him in forever. When you had a baby with you all the time it was hard to drop your roles in the house. You felt like you had responsibilities and couldn’t let yourself be ‘babied’ by him. Time alone was so coveted and it was sparse but lately… you needed Trent. You felt lonely. “Everything okay? Besides missing me, everything is going okay?” He asked hesitantly knowing that he wasn’t exactly looking forward to hearing anything but that you were okay. You thought about it for a minute and tried to think if you were okay. You hummed trying to assure him you were before falling into tears. You were sobbing. You felt so overwhelmed. “Hey, hey, hey… baby. Please, take a deep breath for me. Don’t get worked up. I’m here, okay?” He hushed you, running his hand over the back of your head keeping you tight to him.  

“I just miss being yours. I miss you all the time and when you’re away…” You tried to keep talking but your sobs got in the way. He made you take a few breaths before you tried to speak again. “ I feel like I miss you more than you miss me when we're apart.” You whimpered out keeping your face pressed to his skin.Trent felt his heart drop into his stomach. He felt horrible you felt that way.  That wasn’t true but Trent just had maybe a more relaxed approach to being apart but of course he missed you. He hated being away from you and Teddy. Although that was half the issue, it was you* and Teddy now. It was a package deal and as much as you loved that and had come to terms that was it for the rest of your life, it was still an adjustment to make. Especially as Teddy talked more she was more of a person, you felt like it was a competition for his attention and  you wanted his all focus sometimes. 

“Baby, that’s impossible.... You have no idea how much I miss you when I’m away. A bed never feels more empty when I don’t have you in it. You know I’m a sap for you, come on. You’re everything to me.” He smiled, pulling your head from his neck to hold your face in front of him. “Baby, you will be mine, you are mine forever. Alright?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. You nodded sheepishly. “You want to know how much I miss you, sweet girl? I go to sleep holding a pillow like it’s you, my baby. That’s how embarrassing you make me, alright?” He laughed at himself as you hid embarrassed against his chest.

“Really?” You giggled fairly happy even though basically he was telling you that he was upset being apart.   

“Yeah, I’ll embarrass myself for you, baby. I miss you so much. I think about you all the time. Don’t think for a moment. I don't think of you every second of every day. C’mere, sweet girl.” He cooed, pulling you tight in his arms, refusing to let you go. 

“Thank you for choosing me. I’m forever grateful I have you. I just hate being apart because I like being together so much. I love you with all my heart, T. My forever.” You whispered moving to kiss him. You pressed your lips to his with a hum. Every kiss with Trent was perfection. 

“Sweet girl. I know. I’m just the same as you. It makes it harder to be apart because of how good it is when we’re together. You know though, I can’t say it enough but I’m so lucky to get to share my life with you. Thank you for letting me into your life. You’re everything to me. Wish we could spend every day just like this. Keep you in my arms right here.” He softly spoke peppering you with kisses. 

“Will you watch Love Island with me please?” You scampered into the cinema to get Trent late one night a few days later before the show was on the telly. Since your little melt down in the cinema Trent had been so sweet making sure he was attentive but he wasn’t really planning on pausing his game of FIFA to come watch with you.

“You can go watch it. Don’t need me, do ya?” He responded as you laid over top of him childishly. He patted your ass with his big hand to send you on your way but you gave him a dramatic pouty face, rolling your lip. 

“Nooo, baby with me though. And you’ll ask what happened anyways please.” You whined kissing his lips a few times to try to persuade him. 

“Yeah, alright, alright. Fine.” He laughed, shaking his head knowing that was facts, he always ended up asking as you watched. You dragged him with you and cuddled on the couch in your living room settling in his arms as the show began. You watched about a half hour or so before you turned to Trent who was giggling away at one of the girls. 

“The accents throw me when they’re all mashed together.” You laughed with him at a welsh accent. 

“Baby, what? You’re around these all the time…” He questioned you, turning your shoulders for you to come and look directly at him. 

“But no, it’s different because it’s your voice and they are from Wales and all that or I don’t know. It just gets overwhelming.” You babbled trying to defend your comment. He shook his head before kissing the bridge of your nose then turning back to watch more of the episode.  

“Do you ever wish I was like that? Like with a full beat?” You spoke up, breaking the silence you had fallen into. You questioned Trent because you never really thought about your ‘look’ compared to some British girls, particularly like some of the girls on the show you were watching. You tried your hardest not to compare yourself to the previous girls you’d heard he’d been with and even though he was your husband now, of course you wondered if he liked your makeup, your hair, your looks, he said it all the time but you’d ask again and again. 

“Nah, never. I like you how you are, beautiful. I couldn’t manage all that though” He gestured to the screen. “Having boys trying to crack on with you. Not having that.” He laughed with a trademark scowl on his face. 

“My head wouldn’t be turned. Don’t worry, cute boy.” You giggled, kissing the frown off his lips. You couldn’t imagine the idea of going on the show but if you were there against your will, you definitely wouldn’t entertain anyone but him.   

“Better fucking not be be. You're with me forever, beautiful.” He chirped cheekily wrapping his strong arms across your chest from behind you, swaying you back and forth rocking you involuntarily side to side.  

“So, you’d you couple up with me?” You laughed smitten in his arms, turning your head back towards him with a childish smile.  

“You?” Trent laughed at your naivety, looking down at you. “Yeah, I’d do a lot more than that. Put another baby in you. How about that?” He spoke fairly calmly with a sure tone as if that was a real proposition but you weren’t sure. You giggled at the absurdity. It felt like unintentionally it kept coming up again and again. 

“Yeah?” You could only laugh. Was that something he had been thinking about? It came up here and there and you’d have genuine conversations but the last like concrete decision on it was to give you some time to chill after Tedd, which you’d done and then just kind of ‘have fun’ in the bedroom and if it happens it happens. Now, it seemed to be on your mind more and more though. If it happened, it happened, that’s all well and good but what if you really wanted it to happen? What if he really wanted it to happen? 

“Yeah, You’re not running about with little bikinis for anyone else. Snog, marry, pie. All your answers better be me. Your only option is to pick me.” He kept rattling on and you tried to play catch up getting lost in your thoughts of pregnancy and the whirlwind that would be another baby. 

“Pie?” Your brow furrowed when you heard that last bit. You didn’t really think he’d want that. The conversation snapping back to playful banter.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want some other man holding that much space in that pretty head. So I better be the only one you’re thinking about.” He continued. You just hummed and tucked back into him getting comfortable again turning your attention back to the show you just missed the last 10 minutes of so you were playing catch up there as well. “You smell so good.” Trent whispered resting his chin on your shoulder from behind you tilting his head to press his nose to the nape of your neck.

“I smell how I always do.” You tried to stay passive about his comment as you were trying ardently to follow a row kicking off in the villa on the tv. 

“Just take the compliment.” He cooed with a bit of feigned frustration in his voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist a little tighter and pulled you a bit closer to him, tucking his face entirely in the crook of your neck now. 

“You’re not watching, T.” You whined as he began to place soft gentle kisses against your skin. You could feel the goosebumps arise on your skin. You’d be lying if you didn’t take note of the stupidly sensual nature of them and the obvious downward direction his hands had been moving in. 

“I’m distracted, sorry, baby. Paying attention to something I’m much more interested in.” He whispered in a tone that managed to consume all your thoughts. You gave in and leaned backwards into him pushing him into the couch cushion behind him. You rolled your body in his arms to lay on top of him. You giggled at how charmed he had you. You were going to miss the episode but suddenly you didn’t care and you just wanted to hear him keep talking to you like that. You hid your face in his neck this time and he sighed dramatically. “Well, now you aren’t watching. Don’t get shy on me, baby. If you’re not gonna watch at least come gimme a kiss.” He cooed and you beamed, smiling against his skin but he couldn’t see that. You pulled away from him momentarily and adjusted your seat, placing yourself on top of his lap, straddling him while laying forwards almost entirely on his chest. You gave him a sweet peck on the lips as you held his perfectly pretty face in your hands. 

“Nah, nah none of that. Gimme more of you.” He rumbled dropping his hands to palm your ass and pull you forward on him more. You giggled and hid from him purposefully trying to draw out this playful version of him you were so enjoying. You laid your head on his shoulder hugging his body to you.

“Yum. So so yummy.” You softly spoke as you licked down his neck. You dropped your hands to his waist and slipped your hands under his t-shirt running them up and over his abs. 

“Show me that side of you I love, the one that’s only for me, baby. That you’d never show on tv.” He whispered, rolling his head to the side to give you more room and you took him up on his offering. You began to work small kisses, nibbles, and licks to the most sensitive part of his neck. 

“Maybe not tv but for your camera I’d do this.” You responded, working your kisses up his neck over to his ear as you spoke. You bit on his earlobe and tugged gently. He let out a groan and you could feel him push his hardening cock in his shorts into you. “T… I want you to do it.” You hummed moving your lips down his jaw before finding his lips with yours crashing into them with a hasty passionate kiss he wasn’t expecting. You had gone zero to sixty in no time. 

“Do what, beautiful? What do you want me to do for you?” He asked pretty coy considering he genuinely didn’t know what you were asking for. He knew it was related to possibly having sex right now but the specifics? Not a clue. 

“A baby, T. Put another baby in me.” You whined, dragging him back into a kiss. You night escalated as expected and in the following days since your Love Island love making, you had been all over Trent. You were horny* to say the least. It felt like you had just met him again. You were obsessed with everything he did and he wasn’t exactly complaining. You fucked in bed last night, you fucked in the shower this morning and here you were enjoying your morning in a way you didn’t think you would have been. In fact it was stupidly better than what you could have imagined. You were laying in Trent’s lap and by that you mean you were laying on your stomach, your legs spread open for him while he watched an F1 race and played with your pussy in the cinema. It started fairly innocent but then when you found yourself laid the way you were his hand wandered as you scrolled on your phone. He kept his gaze fixed on the tv and laid back pulling you with him by your thighs. You let out a soft giggle but neither of you said anything more. He just liked to do this. He massaged your thighs and then moved his hands to your ass and slowly but surely Trent continued to push your clothes to the side revealing more and more of you and was more than thrilled when he found that you had decided not to wear any panties, you were tempting fate. He was gradual but direct as he began to run his thumb in between your folds. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, you were magnetic to him. Your ass and pussy from this angle made his cock twitch but he was just relaxing. It was nothing more than just wanting to be close to you and you weren’t even paying attention. He played with you until you were a wet mess. You tried to stay fixated on your phone but this had morphed into some sort of competition. He drew his thumb away from you and you bit back a whine. He lewdly slurped your slick off himself coating his fingers in more of his saliva and moved them back to you to your relief, you were getting needier by the second. You weren;t sure what would qualify as a win or a loss but you were pretty sure both of you caved when he grabbed you by your thighs once more and angled your pussy up towards his lips. He slid his hands up to your hips and pulled your pussy to his pout, sinking his face into you fast but smoothly. You didn’t stop him. You would’ve never. In your day to day you felt the need to have some semblance of control but the second Trent drew near… you crumbled for him. His big hands kneaded your ass squeezing you to his face. And soon enough, his lips had found your clit, he had you under his command. He let out a moan of his own as he spread you open more for him. You grinded back into him desperately feeling yourself so close to reaching your high.  He ravenously ate you out. He made out with your body with zero shame. He was messy and hot, groaning, holding you securely, drinking you in. You tried to hold back a moan but it was a lost cause at this point. The way he ate you out was devilish and you just wanted him to keep sinning. You could feel his hard cock pushing up into your stomach from underneath you. He hummed and slurped hearing you finally whine for him. You just let him eat you out attempting to turn your attention back to your phone despite the pleasure coursing through you. He swirled his tongue around your clit as he dragged his fingers towards your entrance. You could feel yourself tumbling towards your release. He groaned, pulling away for a moment spitting onto your soaking wet pussy. He was drunk off you. Completely transfixed. He had no idea if the race was still on the TV and he really didn’t care.

“Good girl, baby.” He hummed. “You taste so good, just relax and let go, beautiful.” He whispered kissing and licking you all over. He moved his fingers to come back to you and slip inside as he adjusted his position to flick his tongue against your clit more and more. Your back arched as you pushed back into him, feeling your orgasm crash over you. You whined pathetically as he kept working through your high. You could feel him smiling into you. Your chest heaved as you came down but you were fairly quick to turn yourself around to come and face him. 

“Oh my god…” You giggled. “ So will you let me give you a proper thank you, T baby?” You asked as you outstretched your arms to his shoulders sliding your hands under his t-shirt. He shook his head trying to say no, although he had no plans to stop you, knowing you were determined. He moved one of his hands up to cup your cheek. You let him stroke his thumb over your skin before you pulled his hand from your cheek dragging it down to your lips. You kissed the inside of his palm before you wrapped your lips around one of his fingers. He watched you suck on his finger with his mahogany brown eyes following your every movement with a smirk. You released his finger and moved kisses from his hand up his arm coming to his chest. 

“Fuck, go ahead baby.” He hummed with a smug look on his face allowing you to slink down the couch placing yourself in between his legs. You looked devastatingly innocent and cute as you pulled on his shorts. You worked to undress him with a begging hum. In swift succession you were lost sucking his cock, working up and down his length, gagging on the size of him, loving the feeling of running your tongue along a bulging vein. Trent thrusted his hips up into you gently. “Such a good girl, baby. So good f’me.” He groaned barely holding up. You began to move a bit slower, feeling him get closer to his release. He narrowed his eyes on you watching you begin to tease him. You flashed him a cheeky smile. You swirled your tongue around him, sliding your hands up his strong thighs. Trent readjusted his position and reached forward to pull your top down. Your cheeky smile returned, smug that he needed to see more. He hummed seeing your hard nipples from how turned on you were from his tongue on you earlier and him in your mouth now. You whined as you watched his abs tense as you continued to work. “Gonna cum. Fuck…” He grunted simultaneously as you felt his release run down your throat. You smiled with a giggle and pure pleasure sitting back onto your heels after swallowing all of him. He leaned back onto the cushion running his hands over his face letting out a puff of air. You stuck your tongue out licking over your lips to taste him and to clean your mouth up. You laid on top of him childishly and moved for a cuddle as if you hadn’t just done anything remotely dirty.

“Want to see something exciting?” You giggled after a long while still tucked on the couch. You shuffled off him. You turned to stand up and he raised his brow confused why you were leaving such a comfortable place.

“What’s up, baby? Where are you going, beautiful?” He cooed with a smirk thinking you looked adorable readjusting your tiny shorts before running out the room.

“Hold onn!” You yelled back to him as you scurried out of the room. You came back into the room quickly with a few things in your hand. You plopped down sitting cross crossed next to Trent again on the couch. “Loookkkk!” You giddily squealed, shoving the things in your hand towards him. You showed him all your documents, your passport and driver's license  you had gotten officially changed to Y/N Alexander-Arnold.  “I forgot to tell you I finally got these!” You giggled surprised you hadn’t remembered to tell him the moment you did but you had just tucked everything away and got lost in the days since. That said, having his cock in your mouth had you reveling in the fact that you were now Mrs. Alexander-Arnold, reminding you.

“Oh my days. Wow that’s massive, baby. That’s so big. My girl.” He kissed your temple, taking your license from you to really inspect it. “Seems so surreal. You look leng in this, damn.” He laughed looking at a particularly good photo of you. You giggled cuddling into him. “All mine, even the government knows that, yeah?” He cooed and you hummed in agreement with a smile. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 28 xx

[kurtsascot]

i wouldnt be me if i didnt post one of these late.

so…. im alive.

life has finally appeared to calm down (please please please stay that way 🫥) so ive slowly been getting back into my hobbies/feeling like myself and not going to lie? everything was so crazy for so long it feels like im going to be picking up the pieces of myself for a while. im trying to be kinder to myself regarding all of this so bear with me. i feel like everyone at this point is used to my sporadic posting but there is the goal of inevitably coming back to tumblr, like, fully. its just a slow process.

i have a fic that i wrote new for the fanzine, but over these last few weeks is the first time ive been able to write in klueless for months, and its been somewhat terrifying? it feels like i’ve forgotten how to do this and its very disorientating. i’m going to have to reread what ive posted so far and, like, i definitely would have done that anyway because im a perfectionist but its a different feeling to have to. but. oh well !!

thanks to @forabeatofadrum for continuing to tag me in these week after week even though i was dead to tumblr it was very sweet

other than writing i spent a lot of time reading fanfic and books, doing puzzles, watching cheesy christmas movies. recently, i devoured the captive prince trilogy in three days so if anyone has read them i desperately need someone to talk to about it because i think im a different person now and i have no one to share that with

anyway….heres that klueless snippet. its been so long so i dont know if its better to wait to post until i have like, several chapters done, or just two like ive been doing…. i think im going to start writing out of order just to give myself some more leniency regardless.

Kurt hands Blaine back his hotdog. “I don’t think I can eat this.”

Blaine takes a massive bite of his relish doused dog, Kurt’s hotdog dropping to his thigh like it’s lead. “I guess hotdogs are beneath you today?”

“You think so poorly of me,” Kurt lashes as he pushes his head through his poncho’s opening, forehead wrinkled. “I think I’m coming down with a stomach bug or something. That’s all.” He sniffles. “As soon as I got in the car with you, I’ve felt like shit.”

Another relish-loaded bite assaults Kurt’s nose. “The feeling’s mutual,” Blaine says out of the corner of his mouth, fighting a smile, “You have that effect on people.”

Something about that just twists more knots inside Kurt’s stomach.

tagging: @fallevs @hevanderson @cryscendo @warblercore

@daisyishedwig @backslashdelta @blurglesmurfklaine @rockitmans

and anyone else that wants to!!

[devirnis]

Fuck It Friday 🔥

Hi! Feels like it's been a minute. Work and life have been kinda crazy, but rest assured I’ve been typing away in the background

In the spirit of fuck it, I'm going to share some small snippets from each of the fics I'm working on for Five Alarm Fest - these are all coming to you soon! (The week of July 15)

Under the cut to save your dash, a selection of bucktommy & buddie fics for your sampling pleasure

kiss the cook (bucktommy, coda/missing scene)

Tommy is standing in the hallway, and the sight of him settles the nervous energy thrumming through Buck’s body. He’s dressed in dark jeans and yet another henley. Buck briefly wonders if the man owns any other types of shirts, but then he gets a good look at the way the top two buttons of the shirt are undone and how the fabric stretches over Tommy’s wide shoulders and abruptly decides he loves henleys; Tommy should only ever wear henleys from now on. “Hey,” Tommy says back, with a matching smile. His eyes trail up and down Buck’s body and Buck can’t help but preen. He steps aside to allow Tommy to come inside. “Wow, it smells great in here.” “Thank god,” Buck mutters under his breath. At Tommy’s questioning eyebrow, Buck hastily corrects, “Uh, I mean thank you. I almost burned my apartment down the last time I tried to make this.”

powerful with a little bit of tender (bucktommy, after a dry spell)

Eventually, Tommy decides it’s time to take over. He tightens his grip in Evan’s hair and starts moving him up and down his length, thrusting gently into Evan’s mouth at the same time. Groaning deeply, Evan’s eyes flutter as he allows himself to be used. He squirms around a bit on his knees, his own cock hard and red, and Tommy swears quietly at the sight. Tommy’s no stranger to getting off on pleasuring his partner, but with Evan it’s something else entirely. The longer he sucks Tommy’s cock, the more desperate and turned on he gets, like he’s the one getting sucked off. It’s incredible. Tommy never wants to come; he wants to stay right on the edge and drink in every detail. But he also knows that once he gets one orgasm under his belt, he’ll be able to focus on tormenting Evan all the more.

melting on my lips (buddie, new experience/new kink)

[Buck] draws a small heart with the sauce around each of Eddie’s nipples. Eddie flinches slightly at the slimy feeling on his skin, and can’t help but roll his eyes. Buck’s not finished, though; the next shape he creates is a thick arrow, painting Eddie’s stomach and pointing to his (admittedly hard) dick. “Really?” Eddie asks. Ignoring him, Buck situates himself between Eddie’s open legs. He drops down onto his elbows and starts mouthing at the chocolate arrow, laving his tongue over the contours of Eddie’s body.

let me desecrate you (bucktommy, at the firehourse)

“Tommy.” Buck gives him his most serious expression. “I want you to fuck me on his desk.” Eyes flashing with heat, Tommy slides his hands from Buck’s wrists, up his arms to toy with the collar of his shirt. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you where anyone could walk in and see you? You’re that much of a cockslut that you’ll let me bend you over the desk and take you right here?” A shudder runs through Buck’s body, and his grip tightens on Tommy’s waist involuntarily. Tommy’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Okay,” Tommy says, voice slightly husky. “We’re talking about that later.”

drown in my mind (buddie, creator's choice)

Sure enough, he finds Eddie inside, his back to Buck as he viciously scrubs at a spot on the counter with a microfibre towel. A fond smile curls up the corners of Buck’s mouth. And then the scent hits him. Sickly sweet, like honey and cough syrup. Normally it’s a scent that has Buck’s heart soaring, but the smell combined with the fact that it seems like Eddie’s stress-cleaned the entire house while Buck was on his 48-hour shift has guilt churning violently in his stomach. Eddie’s in heat. Eddie’s in heat, and Buck wasn’t here.

tagged by @jeeyuns @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

tagging @bigfootsmom @princessfbi @homerforsure @spaceprincessem @sibylsleaves @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @giddyupbuck @bvckandeddie @monsterrae1 @lonelychicago @freewayshark @shitouttabuck @exhuastedpigeon @queerdiazs @lemonzestywrites @rainbow-nerdss @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @watchyourbuck @smallandalmosthonest @glorious-spoon @middyblue @alchemistc @diazheartsbuckley @daffi-990 💜

[patchworkgargoyle]

🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art to come by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection Rating: E || Words: ~45k || CW: graphic depictions of violence, blood drinking || Full tag list on ao3! || Posting: weekly Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio Holy shit, it's finally here. I'm not panicking, are you panicking!? I should've announced this sooner but hey, it is what it is!

Summary

Steve and Robin are called away from a party by The Party, after finding a beheaded werewolf in the woods. Not only is Steve a werewolf himself, but he's a Hunter too--part of a lineage of monster hunters trying to keep the natural safe from the supernatural, and in the midst of investigating this murder he finds evidence that points him towards Eddie Munson, recent high school drop out and resident drug dealer. But evidence isn't everything.

Chapters 1 & 2 will be posted around noon PT tomorrow, January 6th!! But in the meantime, here's a snippet...

By the shed, though, two figures caught Steve's eye. A girl with a high, bouncy, blonde ponytail and Carver's letterman – Chrissy Cunningham. He often wondered why such a sweet girl was with Jason, she was always friendly with the basketball team and managed Jason's mood swings with ease, not that she should've had to. But beside her, half hidden in shadow, stood her total opposite.

Eddie Munson flicked the ash from his joint and laughed at something Chrissy said while he leaned against the metal shed with her. The distant fire caught, just barely, on the shine of his dark eyes and the curls of his hair. Steve wondered how he wasn't cold. Chrissy clutched her jacket close while Eddie's leather jacket and denim vest fell open to the cold autumn air, revealing some tee for a band Steve didn't know. He hadn't seen Eddie around since midway through his own senior year, Eddie's second attempt. But he hadn't come back to school after winter break.

The rumour mill churned out every kind of story about it – that he'd dropped out or gotten sick, or he'd died, or he stole a car and ran to the coast (whichever one seemed more dramatic). Seeing him here at Penny's party was surprising, either way. Must be back to dealing.

Steve's gaze lingered. He looked pale, but… good, smiling fondly at Chrissy as she kept speaking, something about the newest cheerleader. He had a dimple in his left cheek when he grinned, just above some intense scarring on his jaw Steve didn’t remember from school, but there was something with his teeth– 

Eddie's eyes flicked up, and met Steve's instantly. Something swooped low in his gut, he couldn't name it but it made his heart kick up a couple beats faster. Adrenaline? No. All the warmth in Eddie's face faded as soon as he saw Steve staring, chased away by a hard, emotionless expression. Catching on quickly, Chrissy glanced back at Steve, then to Eddie again, leaning in to whisper. Eddie kept staring back at Steve, who couldn't look away. He felt pinned, his cigarette turning to ash, and Steve thought that maybe he shouldn't look away, like this was some kind of battle of wills. Robin would mock him for trying to be macho, but he couldn't help it. Didn't want to.

[purrassicjet]

snippet of rangerwolf discusses marriage fic plsssssss <33333

I like this one very much. Here's the whole thing because I'm not sure how long this will take to actually be finished

---

Birds chirped lazily as Sandra Lynn banked Baxter down towards the field around Mordred Manor, her typical landing zone. The sun was quickly falling below the horizon and it was casting a beautiful orange glow on the world. She smiled softly and made a smooth landing near the stable, quickly removing Baxter’s bridle and saddle. Things had returned to normalcy mercifully quickly after her kids’ summer adventure, Sandra Lynn’s transgressions not forgotten, but explained and moved past. She sighed pleasantly as she retrieved the mail from the box, flipping through the various scam letters and weird pamphlets that had been dropped there as she pushed through the door. She stopped on a pile of letters all tied together. On the front of the top one, written in a handwriting intimately familiar to her, was “To Ms Sandra Lynn Faeth.” She pushed the door open with her back and wandered into the kitchen, dropping the usual mail on the table and cutting the string keeping the letter pile together.

She lifted her own letter from the pile, spying the name on the front of the next, “To Mr Jawbone O’Shaughnessy.”

“Jawbone! Mail!” She called out absentmindedly, grabbing a letter opener from the drawer and sitting at the table, slicing the envelope open with the precision only a former adventurer could wield. Just as she went to pull the pieces of paper inside out, Jawbone strode through the arch.

She gestured to the pile of letters, “Top one is yours. Not sure who the other ones are for.”

He made a soft “huh” noise and pushed the pile over, scanning the names, “They’re for all of us.” He took his and opened it with one claw.

Sandra Lynn pulled the paper out fully, opening the first up. Her eyes widened as she read the contents and Jawbone made a small whine of surprise that told her he was reading exactly the same thing as she was.

“You, Sandra Lynn Faeth, are formally invited to the wedding of

Gilear Faeth and Hallerial Seacaster

on the 22nd of November. 12:00pm.

Please RSVP as soon as possible.”

She stared over the edge of the note at Jawbone, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t even know they were engaged.”

“I had a feeling.” Sandra Lynn shrugged, “When we were in Fallinel, he was looking for Hallerial’s Dad’s blessing. Gilear’s always moved quick. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m invited.”

“Why?” Jawbone sat down in the chair next to her.

“I figured Hallerial wouldn’t want Gilear’s ex-wife at her wedding.” She pointed out, absentmindedly shuffling to the other note.

“Would you be okay with Gilear at your wedding?” Jawbone said casually, looking sideways at her.

Sandra Lynn froze. She knew why he was asking. He and Gilear were close. If he was to get married, if they were to get married, Gilear would be there.

He noticed her expression and shuffled closer, “I didn’t mean- It’s not like I wouldn’t- But-”

“Stop, it's fine.” She smiled, quickly regaining herself, “I’m not against talking about it. I mean, it’s relevant. My ex-husband is getting married, of course it would get brought up.”

“I can drop it.” He offered, “Or we can talk, if you want.”

She put the other note down without reading it, “We’ll have to talk about it eventually.” She shuffled closer so they could have a real conversation, “One day? Yes. Now? No. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you, I’m pretty confident about that, but I learned the hard way that I don’t want to get married so quick again.” She paused for a second, “I felt trapped by getting married quickly, and I don’t think I’d feel that again but…” She trailed off. She didn’t feel trapped with Jawbone, quite the opposite, but she was terrified of their relationship ending because of some stupid mistake.

“I get it.” He bumped his shoulder up against hers, “We don’t have to be married to love each other.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I know. But I also know you want to be.”

[april-17-rose]

im sorry but I have to ask when the next dissimulation update is bc it’s so good I just can’t wait to keep reading🫶🫶

Hello anon 💕 I don’t mind you asking at all and I’m so happy that you like the fic 🥰🥰 I’m hoping to have the next chapter out soon. I’ll give you a lil snippet rn tho 👀

After a couple days Hermione was thoroughly enjoying the resort, it was definitely taking her mind off things that she didn’t need to be thinking about. They would wake up, have breakfast then get ready to go skiing for a few hours.

The first time they had gone out, her parents waved at her as they took the lift to the skilled slope. She was left open-mouthed, sitting on a bench still trying to put her boots on.

“Need some help?” Tom stepped in front of her, he was clad in all black, face covered by a mask and dark tinted snow goggles. She suddenly felt flushed even though her hands were freezing. He kneeled down about to grab her foot before his hand stopped mid air. “May I?” he asked and she saw her reflection in his goggles and quickly closed her mouth and nodded. He lifted her boot with one hand and slammed it back down.

“Hey!”

“It’s best to have your heel as far back as possible,” he said, before he started to secure the straps and buckled on the bulky boot. He did the same to the other foot.

“Do you have to be so rough?”

“Yes.”

On the ski lift, she had somehow managed to get on with his help, they sat thighs touching which were covered by thick snow pants. Hermione hated how bulky they felt but it did keep her warm. She held tight onto the wobbling metal bar ‘securing’ them to the chair.

“Are you okay?” When she didn’t answer he leaned down to see her face. “Are you afraid of heights?” She nodded.

“Here.” He reached his hand across to hold onto the metal bar on her side of the seat. She felt how solid his hold held her back.

“Thanks.” It was a small gesture but it did make her feel a little better.

“We’re almost there. This part is a little tricky. Don’t panic and also everyone falls on their first time. The trick is to push off, not jump off.”

When they got to the drop off point Hermione fell flat on her ass. Tom grabbed her by the front of her jacket and pulled her up straight with one hand; his other immediately grabbed onto her waist to steady her.

“See? Still alive. Come on.”

Dissimulation on AO3

[blushblushbear]

I'm having a bitch of a time writing as of late, but here's a rough draft snippet of the Rumiko Takahashi inspired Haru x Iris fic

Haru was having that dream again…

He sat in an open field, a light breeze blowing through a vast expanse of blooming wildflowers that stretched on for miles. Their fragrance carried on the wind, as Haru sighed deeply. He felt the warmth of a hand over his, and without even looking in the direction of its owner, leaned solemnly against her. The moment he felt her returning the gesture, her body pressed sweetly against his side, a pang of loneliness rushed through him, and the words,

“Do you have to go?” fell out of him. 

“Haru–” her voice saying his name made him all the more desperate. 

“You could always stay here. With us… with me…” he squeezed her hand. “I’d… we’d make a good home for you…” 

“Oh…” she ticked as her hand squeezed back, “I would if I could.” She nuzzled into him and, closing his eyes, he melted at the affection, wishing in this moment he could stay like this forever. “But I can’t.” The words broke his heart, and he squeezed even tighter. He felt a sudden hand on his cheek, and she pulled his chin to look at her. He opened his eyes, and for a minute, he was lost. Deep and green and soulful enough to bring Haru to his knees. So much love, and so much sorrow… “But I will come back.” She said, “As soon as I can, I’ll be right back on these shores and right back into your arms.”

Her thumb brushed his cheek adoringly as she sat there, forehead pressed to forehead, looking deep into his eyes, hoping that this will be enough. His hand went over hers, as he pressed his cheek into her palm. 

“Promise?” he asked, desperation in his eyes and worry in his voice. He squeezed her hand again. She smiled, warm and reassuring, though her own eyes still looked pained.

“Promise.” she replied, voice washing over him like a relief. 

And as she pulled him into a deep, loving kiss that given Haru the sweetest of dreams for many years over–

He woke up.

He blinked into awakeness, realizing that he was no longer in that distant memory– the sight above him was not an endless blue sky, but a strange ceiling, and he had been pursing his lips and lifting his head to meet the gentle lips of nobody… 

And as dropped his head onto the pillow below, the image of a long distant beauty that still haunted him dissipating like vapor before him, and the warmth of the bed’s other inhabitants becoming more clear, Haru, for a brief moment, never felt so alone…

Haru had been 16 back when he and his teenaged beloved had sat in that field as she vowed to one day return to him. 

Which at this point was 243 years ago but hey… who’s counting. 

Haru had waited years for her to return, but she never did. Not even a letter to let him know he was allowed to stop waiting.

He did stop waiting though. After he finally came to his senses, and realized she was probably gone forever, he moved on and started finally enjoying his life. And given that she was human and probably long dead by this point, she was definitely gone forever now. Probably had a great life too. A great human life with some other human, after she decided that Haru wasn’t worth the trouble…

Which, ya know, he got. I mean, who’d wanna be tied down like that? He’d probably ghost himself too… Not that he was bitter or anything… or even still cared. In truth, he didn’t think about her often, but on the rare occasions when he found himself missing her, he did find someone who reminded him of her and– y’know– got out some of those old frustrations…

But mostly not. Mostly he just lived his life. Cooking his latest hook-up breakfast, sneaking back into his place, getting caught sneaking back into his place, getting pulled into some boring meeting, lunch, hanging out with the fun people in his court and then onto–

The Night Life! His favorite part of the day. Communing among the humans, getting drunk, making noise, enjoying the company– Sure, hanging around humans so much had gotten his heart broken in his youth, but it also had given him some AMAZING nights. So– There’s that!

AND he was set to have another amazing night tonight! 

[diazheartsbuckley]

Inspiration Saturday ✨

Y’all I just landed myself a new job and I’m so excited yet so nervous about it. And I wrote a scene for the second chance fic, so today is a good day 🥳

Find the idea here 💘

(Snippet and tags below cut)

With a deep sigh, Eddie gets up and joins the rest of the 136, still not sure how to act around them. Because it lingers in his mind that this is just temporary, this is just until he and Buck can work things out. Being separated from the love of his life, from his team, from his family, it’s all just temporary. It has to be.

The routine of polishing the engine is engrained in him, circular motions hypnotizing him as the white numbers plastered on the side reminds him that he isn’t where he belongs.

A civilian walks into the station, dressed in black jeans and a grey hoodie, clearly searching for someone or something. His movements are slow yet determined as he walks up to the nearest firefighter who points him in Eddie’s direction, frowning at the man.

“Edmundo Diaz?” The dark haired stranger questions as he steps close to Eddie, a little too close for comfort and Eddie immediately leans away, military instincts kicking in because he doesn’t know the man or his intentions. It could be a reporter but he also doesn’t trust those in any way, shape or form.

“You found him” Eddie barely even turns his head to look at the stranger, eyes focused on a stubborn piece of dirt stuck on the engine. When the man doesn’t say anything after that, Eddie drops his hands to his sides, a bit defeated and turns to look at the man whose eyes feel like they’re digging into Eddie’s skin.

“You’ve been served” are the only words out of the strangers mouth as he hands Eddie a stack of papers, turning on his heel before Eddie has a chance to respond, almost forced to drop the cloth in his hand.

“I-… What?” Eddie frowns at the papers and the people around him let express their sympathy by letting out an almost collective grumble.

Eddie looks at the first page and his eyes are immediately drawn to the bold and capitalized letters that appear at the top of the paper:

DIVORCE AGREEMENT

His hands begin to tremble as he scans he page again and again, hoping that the contents might magically disappear or change. Disbelief starts to give way for a wave of raw emotion - anger, hurt and betrayal welling up inside of his chest. The realization that Buck has initiated divorce proceedings without even talking to him about it, hit him like a psychical blow and shatters the last bit of hope that he’d been clinging onto.

Soon, his chest starts to tighten with a mixture of rage and despair as he struggles to comprehend the implications of this moment. Tears threaten to fall as he stares at the papers, blurring the lines where his and Buck’s names are clearly written. He wants to crumble every single page, he wants to act like he has never seen them before but the heaviness filling his mind makes it impossible, locking him in place for a moment.

Eddie creates some distance between himself and the crew but Lena follows closely on his heels, not willing to let him out of her sight. He can’t stop her from reading over his shoulder, his arms feeling like they were made of a ton of bricks as he carefully holds the fragile papers in his hands.

“Shit, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were getting divorced” Lena frowns, patting Eddie’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze, feeling his body trembling as she does. The rustling of papers in his hand fade in with the busy sounds of the firehouse, allowing him to hide what he’s feeling. Expect he doesn’t do a very good job because Lena continues talking.

“And neither did you, it seems” She says but her voice is far away, Eddie’s ears ringing at the heavy thumping of his heart against his ribs.

A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions sweep through Eddie, leaving him soaked in disbelief and disappointment. He clenches his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he tries to contain the storm brewing inside of him.

But beneath the anger and the hurt, a seed of doubt takes root. An abundance of unanswered questions and unresolved feelings start to emerge from the corners of his mind, refusing to be ignored.

A few deep breaths later, Eddie realize that Lena is still talking to him or at least he thinks so because her lips are moving and she’s making what looks like big angry gestures. “No, I didn’t know that we were getting divorced. I didn’t know that we had given up on fighting” Eddie mumbles, mostly to himself, wanting to curse at the world but refraining from doing so because he already feels out of place.

Tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz and @spotsandsocks mwah 💋

Tagging!! @tizniz @diazsdimples @cal-daisies-and-briars @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @jeeyuns @namjroon @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @giddyupbuck @vampbuckley @evanbegins @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990 @butraura @poughkeepsies @loserdiaz @athenagranted @fiona-fififi @lover-of-mine @elvensorceress @sherlockcrossing @captain-hen @devirnis 🦋🩵

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

UPDATE

Heyyyy my sunshines!!!

I hope you guys liked the Pt3 I put out for the Maknaeline Clinginess Angst!! If you haven't read it yet check it out ;)!!! I JUST updated my Masterlist post-You'll notice there are a lot more things added onto it that I have not released yet. To keep myself more organized with requests and manage my posting more efficiently (my schedule still won't be completely set because unfortunately I'm a mood writer regardless of whether or not I have time 🥲🥲🥲) - I've decided I will start posting my TBR's. Meaning you guys will be able to see what I will be releasing - which will help me manage tags better as well. And will help those of you who like my page; who are not on my permanent taglist and want to know when I post. IF you would like to be tagged message me WHICH post you would like to be tagged on and I will be tagging the first 10 tag requests + those who are on my permanent taglist as of today- June 28th, 2024. FOR REQUESTS I will tag the person who requested the fic. The one catch is I can only really tag if you don't request anonymously. I am a judgement free zone and I want you guys to all feel safe and comfortable on my page and with me as both author and friend. So if you do have a request and you want to be tagged with your request feel free to request freely. I will NO LONGER be sharing the FIC requests via POST rather I will note the title and genre of the fic in the masterlist to - - A. Keep you anonymous EVEN IF you decide to not remain anonymous when you send the message -B. Declutter my page by minimizing posts Me not sharing requests does NOT mean I won't share any of the messages you guys send. A lot of you send me encouragement and compliments via my inbox so I will occasionally share those messages since they make me smile :) Despite me not sharing request answers and just putting them straight on the master list you can STILL choose to be anonymous when requesting. I just want to make sure you all know that you don't have to feel afraid of me judging a request or anything of that nature if you DO decide you would like me to know your user so you are automatically put on the tag list for that fic before the 10 spots are filled. It will be first come first serve for all of them so I do apologize if you don't make it onto the taglist for that fic, but I trust you'll find it at some point after its release. My masterlist post will be updated EVERY SUNDAY; so you guys can start the week with knowing what's up 🙌🙌🙌! Okay sorry for that long informational rant but here's another shorter one.

I will be dropping an Enhypen masterlist. The same rules stated above go for the Enhypen list once it is up and running. But since it isn't I will be taking 2 requests for each member and 1 request for OT7. Again- it is first come first serve so I'm sorry if I don't get to your request 😓😓😓 I WILL BE TAKING REQUESTS UNTIL JULY 2nd (sorry for the short notice 😓) FOR ENHA. Once the Enha masterlist is up and running - which will be by July 3rd my pinned post will be

THE MASTERLIST MASTERLIST (read this is Lord Garmadon's or President Business's voice idk why but it just sounds right) - this will be the masterlist to all my masterlists - which will soon be expanded out into different kpop/misc fandoms/ misc works in the future (ig; TXT, BND, ZB1, ATEEZ, potentially some anime fandoms, snippets from novels I have started to write).

BUT ANYWAYS AS ALWAYS-

Stay SAFE. Stay SANE. And most importantly-

Stay SLAYING. 💅 Love you all ☀️☀️☀️

[anthurak]

WIP - True Child of Two Worlds

Thought I'd throw up a snippet from the in-progress chapter of my Titan Luz fic that I've had particular fun with.

As for context; remember that time Luz looked at Eda storing a ridiculous among of knickknacks and junk in her hair and said "I wish someday my hair can do that"?

Wellll...

---

“Alright, move aside! I’ll be the judge of this,” King declared before scurrying up Luz’s leg and back.

“You uh, need any help King…?” Luz started to ask but by that point the young titan had already vanished into her newly-voluminous hair.

A silence both pensive and awkward fell on the kitchen as nobody was quite sure what to expect. Then…

“HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES, it’s so CLEAN in here!” came King’s muffled yell from Luz’s hair.

Luz couldn’t help breaking out into giggles and chuckles while Amity let out a confused “…Clean?” with a similarly curious raised eyebrow.

Eda meanwhile, was looking a BIT offended.

“Luz,” King’s head poked out of Luz’s hair over her shoulder, “promise me you won’t be like Eda and actually try to keep this place tidy?”

“HEY!” Eda let out a now quite offended squawk, “What’s THAT supposed to mean?!”

“I can promise I won’t stash food in there,” Luz answered her little brother while seemingly ignoring Eda.

“Oh that’s a GREAT start!” replied a clearly relieved King before ducking back into Luz’s hair, “And it’s so ROOMY too!”

“…are you saying Luz’s hair is bigger than mine?” Eda was now sounding quite offended and indignant.

“No,” King’s head poked back out to glare at Eda, “I’m saying hers isn’t packed full of trash and useless junk!”

“That’s it! You are groun-”

“Eda,” Raine’s voice interrupted Eda, the bard having wandered in at some point and now standing at their girlfriend’s side with a rather cross look complete with crossed arms, “what’s this about your hair being ‘packed full of trash’?”

“Uhh…” Eda blinked very uneasily, all previous indignation instantly forgotten, “I mean… it’s not as bad as it used to-aak!” Eda let out another squawk as her lover’s hand darted into her hair and began feeling around… before pulling out a fairly worn pizza box.

“Oh hey, Papa ‘Pellizeri’s! That takes me back,” Luz’s face lit up with nostalgia, “man that place has been shut down for years…” 

“Uh huh,” Raine nodded at the telling indicator of time while Eda managed a VERY awkward and uneasy smile, “Eda, we’re cleaning out your hair pocket.”

For a brief moment, Eda looked like she wanted to object, but quickly thought better of it, “Yeah, okay.”

“Oooooh,” Luz let out an awed breath, “we’ve never gotten Eda to clean her hair out…”

“Yay!” King let out a triumphant squeak as he dropped out of Luz’s hair, “Thank you new mom! Or, dad?” King paused as he awkwardly tried to parse out what was the appropriate term for his mom’s partner, “…Dadmom?”

“You know…” Raine gave a thoughtful smile to who was clearly soon to be their new adopted son, “I think I’m partial to ‘Dad’, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yay! Thank you new-dad!”

--

I'm pretty sure the first three or so chapters of this fic can be summed up as 'various wacky shenanigans related to learning about Human-Titan Hybrid physiology' XD