#vaguely an inside joke but the point still stands

[milkcolle]

bingus is normal and silly now (im bingus)

[xprakzif]

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙪𝙥 • m.sturniolo

the sequel to for the night

parings: matt x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, bleeding(briefly), p in v, raw intercourse, kissing, foul language

summary: after matt’s ‘on night stand’, he’s haunted by the memory when he can’t escape her at a friends house.

“welcome, welcome! shoes off please”

the triplets had just arrived to larray’s house. nick brung them along to hang out and get to know eachother before they film a collab.

“this is nai!” he introduced nailea to the boys, she was sitting on the floor building what seemed to be a lego set, there was pieces scattered around and somethings already built as if she had help.

they exchanged greetings and introductions before having a seat on the long sofa.

“that’s cool, what is it?” chris joked to nailea, pointing to the pieces on the floor.

“it’s supposed to be flowers, we’re not finished” she replied.

“wow larri, i didn’t know you were artsy like that!” nick teased making chris giggle.

larray gave him a confused look, “i didn’t make that”

the boys stood lost, glancing at eachother. as if on cue, a creaking sound caught their attention.

“um, there might be blood on your bathroom floor from how many times i got scratched..”

there stood a wet cat in the arms of a girl.

no one recognized her, except matt.

this was the girl he met that night, the red lit room.

suddenly his cheeks tinted red, becoming flustered, embarrassed, and terrified all at once.

she wrapped the soaked feline in a towel, the article of clothing that she wore was awfully familiar. it was oversized and rolled up at the sleeves revealing small cuts on her hands and palms from basically wrestling the cat to bathe. underneath was a short white tank top paired with black shorts.

matt gulped, it was the flannel he left at the party. in the room. where they-

“oh, hi! nice to meet you guys, i’m y/n” she handed the irritated cat to larray, walking back to her place next to nailea on the floor.

they looked as if they finished a difficult puzzle, seeing it was her who accompanied nailea in building lego flowers.

the boys mentioned their names once again to introduce themselves to her. larray was in the background cooing at his fur-ball, letting the group settle in and become comfortable with one another.

“i swear matt has that same shirt, y/n” nick blurted gaining the center of attention.

she looked into matt’s eyes, they were feet apart but it felt like she was right in his face.

she recognized him, now she knew from where.

“i’m sure he does..” she smiled still locking eyes.

he shifted in his seat, a mix of embarrassment and shame. in his mind replayed that night. he shut out the voices surrounding him, focused on the vivid memory of being inside the girl who was just a few steps away. he felt his pants tighten.

chris smacked his chest making him flinch and nearly gasp as if he could read his mind.

“dude, hello?”

“huh- what?” matt replied.

“we’re asking if you’re hungry?” all eyes were on him. he scanned the room to see everyone waiting on his answer.

“i mean, yea i-i guess”

her gaze never left him, the acrylic nail on her thumb between her rows of teeth. she knew the effect she had, it only made her more excited.

they both lingered on each others skin for days. regretting not exchanging numbers, thinking it was only a one night thing. there was way more.

“alright, who’s coming?” nick was by the door with larray, ready to make a trip to mcdonald’s.

“me! me!” nailea leaped up singing her way to the door the collect her shoes.

“i’ll stay back, i’m actually enjoying this” y/n motioned toward the lego’s on the carpet.

“text me what you want!” nailea shouted, they began to walk out the door.

“you coming, matt?” chris asked peeking through the front door carefully not to let out the cats roaming about.

“nah, i- i’ll stay. just get me what i always get.”

chris nodded before shutting the front door. the sound of the group pulling off was heard vaguely, headlights shined across the curtains.

matt was watching until he felt the seat next to him move. she sat next to him, getting inches away from his face.

“hi,” she whispered, her legs bent under her body.

“hey” he responded with less confidence.

“matt..” he shuddered at the sound of his name in her voice, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you,”

her hand ran down his bicep to his, grasping it gently. his eyes watched every movement.

she was waiting for him to say something, anything. she didn’t want to look stupid trying to get to him when he only wanted to hook up for a night.

but that was far from it.

unexpectedly, their lips collided. he moved his hands to hold her face while she wrapped hers around his neck.

mouths moving at such a speed filled with passion and lust. their tongues collided and twirled around one another mixing their dna.

matt pulled away barley, “you know,” placing another kiss to her lips, “this looks way better on you than me,” tugging on his own flannel she wore, “but i’d like to see if off right now.”

she wasted no time in almost ripping off the fabric, tossing it over the sofa they were on. she layed backward pulling him down with her. both lips finding their way back to his.

matt’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans, ignoring it too fulfilled in the moment.

he kissed down her neck, leaving wet marks down to her chest right where her heart was. lifting up the small shirt that barley reached her waist. underneath was bare, getting to work right away kissing all over her boobs, occasionally sucking on the soft skin.

randomly her phone buzzed loudly, causing them to jump. it didn’t stop there, she was receiving a call this time. he smirked at her frustration, mentally laughing remembering how last time it was his phone being blown up.

she reached over to the floor, it was nailea.

“hello?”

“y/n! we’re texting you guys, what do you want?”

“i’m actually not hungry-“

“me neither!” matt interrupted and snatched the phone from her hands ending the call, eager to continue.

she giggled, soon turning into a subtle moan as he continued nibbling at her flesh.

the heat in her skin tight shorts was killing her, so she pushed him back up and straddled his lap. his eyes grew slightly wide at the action but he obliged.

before doing so, she lifted her self to remove her shorts. beginning to unbutton his jeans and tugging for him to move, “y-you gonna ride me?” he smirked, a little too excited.

she nodded with her bottom lip bitten. in swift motion his pants along with his boxers were halfway down his thighs.

he was already rock solid from all the kissing, visibly throbbing. she took ahold of it and slid her panties to the side.

she ran his tip up and down her slippery folds preparing it for entrance.

he was groaning and whining at the feeling, eyes shutting and reopening as if he was falling asleep.

finally sinking down onto him they both let out a throaty moan. he let out a few curse words as she began grinding back and forth.

“i’ve missed you..” he whispered almost like a sigh.

“m-“ she couldn’t even speak, the pleasure building up from his long size hitting her spot with each push.

it felt so good to him, but he wanted more. his long fingers gripped her hips to hold her in place as he started fucking into her from below.

“matt!” she cried out.

he wanted to release so badly, knowing the others could be back any minute, he didn’t want to be interrupted.

his head was thrown back as he grunted with each hit. her mouth was open unable to make sound as she was on edge.

“s-so good, you gonna c-cum for me just like last time?”

“fuck- yes!” she almost screamed out. with that the burning sensation of him hitting her g-spot bloomed throughout her body during her high.

she was a trembling mess, moaning and gasping for air as he kept going to reach his. she leaned down and pressed her forehead against his.

“up- i’m gonna- fuck-“ he tried to move her but it was too good he couldn’t help himself. strings of white painted her walls as if they weren’t already slimy.

he panted his way to relaxation after moaning loudly riding his high. they stood still for a moment catching their breaths. both of their eyes opening to look at eachother.

“i really like you, matt” she whispered hesitantly. still unsure of his intentions.

“yea.. i like you too. i don’t think i can just do the ‘one night’ thing with you..” they smiled and felt relieved at the mutual feeling.

she placed a kiss to his lips then hopped off to clean herself in the bathroom.

she returned to find him all fixed up, now checking out the lego set her and nailea were attempting to make.

“stop! i know you’re making fun of me” picking up the flannel from the floor and putting it back on, “also you’re not getting this back!”

“good, i love it on you”

the front door opened revealing the crew with bags of food and drinks in their arms.

“we’re back! i know you guys said you weren’t hungry but we still got you some!” nailea mentioned placing the bags on the coffee table.

“you’re literally the best,” y/n added.

sounds of moist pattering came down the stairs.

“y/n! i thought you were blow drying her!”

larray held up the still damp cat. her eyes grew wide and matt blushed.

“i forgot! i can still do it- i was too busy um.. working on the lego flowers!” she lied to not raise suspicions as everyone began to eat.

“girl-“ larray walked over to check out the progress, which there wasn’t any, “you ain’t even do anything! and why does it smell like sex in here?!”

“it’s the wet cat” matt joked through a full mouth of fries, y/n hiding her laughter in the process while he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“i’ll get the blow dryer..”

LOWKEY wrote this fast

part 2 of “tell him” coming soonnnn also happy birthday to my bae larray <33

[cdbabymp3]

can u write something about hamzah being nervy for his first time w u cus he’s a virgin 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i’d actually go insane

𐙚the first time ― hamzahthefantastic

notes/warnings: nsfw !! reader is slightly more experienced than hamzah this might be the first and last time i write a full length fic for this acc i went through every stage of grief making this

it started super innocent. a couple kisses exchanged in the kitchen while making dinner together. you guys had decided to have a little fancy date night at home, since it was pouring rain outside. hamzah lit candles and everything. while eating dinner, you can feel his energy radiate off of him, like he's longing for something but won't quite say what. usually he's pretty straightforward with his feelings, hating to beat around the bush, but right now... this was not the case.

"is everything alright?" you ask softly, as he gets up to clear your empty plates

he places the plates in the sink, looking up at you, "uh, yeah? why? does it seem like something's up?' he speaks a mile a minute, now clumsily rinsing the dirty dishes

"well, no. i don't know, you just seem like there's something on your mind." you further, he keeps his gaze down at the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing far more than what's needed. is he stalling?

"nah, i'm fine, don't worry." he lies poorly, grabbing a rag and starting to dry the plates. his eyes are still failing to meet yours, a tell-tale sign he's not being honest.

dating for 4 months, intimacy and sex was a topic hamzah always found a way to tip toe around. yes, you guys have talked about sex before, but it was never in a serious way. he would always make a joke to the only way you even found out about his lack of experience was during a drunken night, trying to get him into bed to sleep.

"wait, hold up-i've never done this before, i've never done this before, i've never done this before... y/n wait...." he slurred out, delirious laughter quickly turning into panicked muttering

the memory burns in the back of your mind, even more so because he hasn't brought up that night since, nor do you think he even remembers.

he's still drying an already-dry-plate with so much force, that the plate dwindles nearly in and out of his grip. he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes narrow. something's festering, it's so plain to see.

"are you sure? because you can tell me if it's-"

before you could get another word out, the plate he was holding slips out of his hand, hitting the kitchen floor and breaking into a million pieces.

"fuck." he sighs, throwing the rag into the sink angrily and puts a hand over his eyes

you step over to him slowly, trying to avoid the ceramic shards on the floor.

"hamzah-"

"no, don't come over here. let me clean it up first." he removes the hand from his eyes, revealing you standing a foot away with a hand extended towards him to reach for. he thinks on it for a moment, but takes it, walking out of the kitchen and into your embrace.

"what's going on, hm?" you rub his back, trying to calm him down

"it's so fucking embarrassing, y/n, trust me. i can't even say it out loud." he mumbles, releasing himself from the hug and taking a seat on the couch

you follow him, sitting in the adjacent chair. waiting patiently for him to speak, you give him a reassuring smile. it's silent for so long and at this point, you start to catch onto what has him so distraught; the only milestone in your relationship that's been left unconquered. you can practically see the cogs in his brain turning and processing how he wants to go about telling you this information. to save him from his spiraling, you decide to intervene. "you know i don't care, right?" vague enough not to scare him from the topic, but hopefully enough to allude to what he's trying to say.

"care about what?" he frowns, head titled

"remember that night when you got really drunk and i had to drive us home? and you were super delirious, so i had to help you get ready for bed?" he simply nods, still not seeing where you're going with this. "well-um, when i was helping you change out of your clothes and get into bed, you kept repeating 'i've never done this before' over and over again. i didn't want to assume you meant it that way, but..."

he now puts not one, but both hands over his eyes, sheer humiliation hits him like a 50-foot wave. "oh my fucking god, that's so embarrassing."

"what- no, no, no. it's okay, trust me. it's okay, hamzah, seriously."

he hunches over so his elbows rest on his knees, face in his palms, as he's trying to process this. "i-wow... you knew this whole time too, that's crazy." still reeling, he laughs nervously.

"hamzah, it literally changes nothing for me. i just want you to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it." you get up and sit next to him, putting a hand on his thigh for comfort.

"i know, i know. i was gonna say something tonight," he lifts his face from his hands, "that's why i was so wound up, i think...nerves, you know?"

"yeah, i understand."

"i feel really guilty sometimes... like, that we haven't done anything. i don't want you to think that it's because i don't want to- i do, i really do. i don't know why, but i get so nervous anytime we're in the moment and it could happen. i always chicken out. i just want it to be good for you..."

your heart melts at his confession. "hey, no, don't feel guilty. i'm willing to wait. whenever you're ready, i'm ready." your hand leaves his thigh and rubs his back the way he likes. he snickers and your hand pauses. "what?"

"that's what i was gonna talk to you about; whether or not you wanted to, um...tonight?"

"oh! i-"

"i mean, if you don't want to, we don't have to. i thought that it seemed like a good night since it's just us and the rain outside is honestly kinda romantic, i don't know, maybe i-"

you put a hand over his mouth and you can feel him smile against your palm. "you're overthinking this."

"i-" his voice is muffled against your hand, so he lightly takes your wrist and removes it. "i'm overthinking, but also have no idea what the fuck to do. i mean-i know 'what to do' in a biological sense, but like-" he catches himself in the middle of another ramble and nods knowingly, shaping his lips into a thin line.

"we can take it slow, yeah? just breathe..." you whisper, the hand that was once placed on his back slithering to the back of his head, causing him to turn his face to you.

"okay." he matches your tender volume, allowing his body to relax with a long exhale

you wait for all the air to peacefully leave his lungs before grabbing his hand and getting up. it takes him a second, but he obliges as you lead him into his bedroom. you give him a quick kiss, crawling onto the bed as he follows suit.

"c'mere" you coo

he can't hide the excitement on his face, getting on the bed with urgency and positioning his frame above yours. you wrap your hands around the back of his head and engulf him in a heated kiss. one arm stabilizes him above you, while the other holds your hip. this he's done with you before, this was his comfort zone. what comes next is new and surprises you. his hand glides from your hip, up your torso to your right boob, giving it a squeeze over your shirt. a pleased sigh gets caught in your throat and you feel his hand hesitate, so you put a hand on top of his to continue. it's funny because you can tell he does actually know what to do, but it's obvious that doing with an actual person is throwing him off a little. after a moment or two, he moves on to your other boob, giving it equal attention. you start to play with the hem of his shirt, which he's quick to notice and pulls off. his lips connect with your neck this time and the contact makes your stomach feel incredibly warm. his position in between your legs gives you easy access to his toned chest and torso, so you slide your hands from his collarbones down to right before the waistline of his pants as he continues to his ministrations on your neck. this earns a low hum from him, the vibration of the sound against your neck makes you giggle. he giggles too, happy that some of his nervous tension is being relieved. some minutes pass and you feel what will be a generously sized hickey tomorrow morning planted just below your jaw as hamzah's mouth leaves the skin to breathe.

"um... i should probably get you out of these." his fingertips ghost under the band of your midi skirt and underwear, to which you nod more desperate than you mean to. he cracks his famous grin before sliding the skirt down your legs. once it reaches your ankles you kick it off. he looks down at your black, lacy underwear and blinks slowly. in this brief pause, you take the liberty to peel off your top. to hamzah's delight, your bra matches your underwear with a pink bow in the center.

"you're so cute" he beams, kissing your lips, mouth then heading down between your cleavage to your navel. he leaves sloppy, open-mouthed kisses until he reaches the thin line of your underwear, giving your clothed-clit a sweet kiss.

"mmh" your hips jerk up involuntarily

"yeah? that good, baby?" he asks genuinely, his innocent voice starkly contrasting how his fingers loop around your underwear and drag them down your thighs. feeling your underwear completely off, you sit up to rid yourself of your bra but he clicks his tongue. "i got it."

"oh, you got it?" you tease and he rolls his eyes

"shh" he pulls one of the straps down your shoulder, enough to kiss where it previously was before reaching behind and undoing the clasps swiftly. the garment slips down your arms and he catches it, tossing it alongside the rest of your discarded clothes. "jesus..." his eyes widen, your bare chest on full display for him. he leans down, about to take a nipple to into his mouth when you place a hand on his cheek to stop him. "wh-do you not want me to do that?"

"no, baby, it's not that. it's just-" you take his hand and guide it down to your core, allowing his fingertips to brush past your wetness.

he raises his eyebrows at the feeling, getting your not-so-subtle hint. "oh...i-okay, you're, like, ready, huh?" his voice quivers, a rhetorical question but it's so endearing. "here-uh, lemme get a condom." he leans and extends an arm across you to his bedside table. nervously fumbling with the drawer, he grabs the packet and situates himself back between your legs. in the same position as before, one arm holding himself up and the other putting the packet between his teeth to open, you put a hand on his arm and laugh.

"hamzah, your pants."

"oh, shit, i forgot. hold up," he says, the condom packet still between his teeth as unbuttons his pants and slides them off along his underwear in no time. you can tell by the look on his face, he's getting shy, so you let him do things at the pace he wants. you swear you blink and he's already rolled the condom onto himself, positioning his body inches from where you need him. he looks conflicted, so you cup his face to let him know you're here. "i was already a nervous wreck before, but it just hit me now even more..." he confesses just above a whisper, his cheek feels hot with self-consciousness as you caress it

"do you want some help?" you offer and his eyes soften, visibly grateful that he didn't have to verbally ask you.

"sorry." he apologizes

"no it's okay, baby, here-" you put a hand on top of the one that he holds himself with and move him closer and closer to your entrance. his tip makes contact and you bite your lip, moving him along your arousal to lessen the pain you assume will come based on how sizable he feels. "i'm gonna go slow, okay? it's been a while since i last did this..." you admit, carefully pulling his hand so that his tip only makes it past your folds. his chest starts to rise and fall, his glued to yours and not daring to leave.

"y/n..." he moans, feeling himself finally enter you

the stretch alone has you grabbing for his bicep, mouth open in shock. "fuck" you gasp, trying to adjust to his size.

his eyes scan yours, seeing your discomfort bubbling. "should i stop? am i hurting you, baby?" he starts to panic

"no, i'm okay, just keep going. you can m-move now, if you want." you pant out eagerly and he does as told, pulling back, but not out and thrusting back in nice and slow. he starts to find a rhythm and repeats this at the perfect cadence.

"there you go, you got it-ah" you praise him, which only works him up more, rutting into you now with more haste than ever; he's finally getting comfortable. your nails drag down his broad back, making him whine into your neck, hitting a spot inside you no one's hit before. he knows way more than he thinks. you can feel him start to chase his release, twitching as his sounds start to rise in pitch.

"baby, i think i'm gonna-fuck!" his hips snap and stagger with one final thrust, the coil in his stomach snapping vigorously. his high leaves him trembling above you, barely able to hold up his weight.

"virgin no more" you whisper dramatically, brushing his black curls out of his eyes, a sheer layer of sweat making them stick to his skin a bit.

"b-but you didn't cum... i came in like fucking 3 minutes and you didn't-"

you interrupt him with a kiss, different than the ones you were sharing moments ago. this one held something more than lust or desire.

"i don't care, i'm proud of you." you rest a thumb on his full bottom lip, toying with it. "plus, it was your first time, not your last. you can make it up to me."

so fucking anxious to post this 🥸 yes there will be a pt.2! idk when quite yet bc i'm gonna need a couple days to recover from this

send in hc requests !!! i enjoy writing those a lot and can get them done quicker <333

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @junebugin-july , @itgirlvirgo (lmk if u wanna be added !!!)

[usedpidemo]

Shangri-la (Oh My Girl Yooa)

Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.

—————

“What the?”

What welcomes you inside the bedroom takes you by complete surprise. It’s the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. She had been very vague about the whole ordeal, skittering around the details. she was completely straightforward about one thing: to get fucked. That’s the main selling point.

Her inviting tone, her sultry expression, her lust—it’s still freshly imprinted on your mind from an hour ago. You’ve heard those words—their many variations—a handful of times, but hers is by far the most enticing and the sweetest sounding:

“Wanna have sex with me tonight?”

—————

Admittedly, it was never on your bucket list to attend a concert, let alone a group who sings primarily in foreign. It was supposed to be just a kind gesture for a roommate.

He’s your resident nerdy K-pop fan, the kind that gets bullied in real life and on the internet. He’s the full package; posters on the bedroom wall, a book full of photocards, and a shelf of albums and lightsticks which he considers as his sacred temple. You were never meant to go beyond a toe’s dip into this unhealthy obsession he’s engrossed himself in; completing his homework was enough exposure. 

If there was one takeaway from your observations, it was quite obvious: the girls are really hot. And that’s all that you needed to convince yourself to go. 

Besides, you were his roommate—and his only friend. Out of the kindness of your heart, you have an obligation to be there for him, at least until you graduate.

For the most part, the show was entertaining. Again, the girls were pretty attractive, and they were dressed in outfits that flaunted their bodies exceptionally well. Your friend’s relentless screaming accustomed you to the crowd’s energy, which was no joke. Even in a small, intimate venue, there were several moments where you felt that the place might collapse off the audience’s deafening shouts alone. At least you came prepared with noise canceling earplugs.

It’s not a huge surprise when he suddenly vanishes after the show. He’s been in and out of sight the whole time; getting freebies, merch shopping, taking numerous bathroom breaks, to the point where he just straight up forgets he left his phone with you before running off again. 

To make things worse, it’s the dying moments of the night, when everyone in the VIP section, the two of you included, gets to greet the members for only a brief passing moment. He’d been acting like his entire life has been building to this moment, completely neglecting the fact you were his ride home. 

Of course you’re not entirely sure about who’s who in this group. Six equally pretty girls, all wearing the exact same shirt and short skirt combination, down to the colors, with equally warm smiles. You didn’t have enough time to familiarize yourself with each of their names; the internet in the area has been failing you for hours. The staff was strict with phones the closer you approached them. It didn’t help that everyone screamed through their introductions, too.

Unsurprisingly, nothing substantial came of your interaction. A series of repetitive, awkward bows and near-silent whispers of “hello.” You’ve been putting off Duolingo for months, and it showed. It should have been a forgettable affair, considering the hundreds of people they’re greeting just from tonight’s queue alone. It’s not like you particularly stand out from the rest of the crowd; a casual shirt and jeans combo that’s indistinguishable from the dozens in attendance, and you don’t have anything on you that screams ‘overly dedicated fan.’

So when you’re pulled aside by the same staff closely watching the queue during the meet and greet, asked to head backstage as part of some secret lucky draw, you’re not surprised. There’s an age-old superstition that states that you’re more likely to meet celebrities the less you’re familiar with them. It rings true, and you have first hand proof.

You’re led to this singular door in what’s basically an unused narrow hallway. The kind that criminals use to trap their victims. Definitely safe. The staff member instructs you to head in before leaving you there alone. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Instead of your friend, you find one of the members you just met, waiting on the other side. You have so many questions, but she she gives you another to entertain:

“You wanna have sex with me tonight?”

Much to her amusement ,you’re taken aback. At first, you’d think she was pulling some kind of prank. By the way she smiles and laughs, it’s a reaction all too familiar to her, like this is some kind of cliche. It’s not a surprise to hear those words from any girl, knowing your experiences at college parties and bars, but from a traveling singer? Simply put, it’s quite ridiculous.

“You’re joking right?” you say, hand close to the door you just entered, ready to make a beeline for it. You glance around the enclosed, compact space, searching for any possible hidden cameras recording the scene.

She shakes her head, taking a step forward. “Not at all. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Do you do this all the time?” you ask, her reply not easing you in the slightest. Your hand inches a little closer to the door. It’s not like she’s going to hurt you; if anything, her thin figure’s probably what should worry her if you dare to even breathe heavily on her, let alone touch. 

“Yeah. Every stop. You look really cute,” she says, reaching her hand out to you. “And you look like you can give me a good time tonight.”

There’s something flattering about her words, coming from an idol singer, complimenting you that hits a chord harder than other girls. Her sincere tone, doll-like eyes twinkling, and expressive lips certainly help. It’s alluring—devastating—to a casual like you; how much more to someone who worships her. 

Then, here comes the killing blow:

“So, what’s it going to be?” She kisses you on the chin, wrapping her arms around your neck. It’s not suffocating, not in the slightest, but you might as well be entangled by them. Her eyes, sharp and fiery, are daring you to say otherwise to her seemingly coarse question. 

Leaning your head against her shoulder, her scent and soft skin prove to be intoxicating. You can’t get enough. That hand you’ve been pressing on the door is no longer there; it’s coiled around her back, taking inventory of her slim waist and arched back, then teasing at the fabric of her shirt. Even if she wasn’t the girl you just watched perform on stage, she’s too gorgeous to turn down. And it isn’t like you’ll find your friend, anyway. Perhaps this is your way of getting back at him for being insufferable all throughout.

“Here?” you ask, whispering in her ear, playing with fire. 

She holds you by the cheek, tilting an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she drags her tongue on the ridge of your ear. “Somewhere nicer.”

—————

It’s only you and her in the backseat of one of their vans, windows tinted and the front closed off that it’s safe to assume that the driver can’t hear you—perfectly convenient. He probably doesn’t know you’re even there. 

It’s inside the car that you finally become familiar with each other. YooA, or as she’d prefer you to call her, Shiah, and you have this light bulb moment where you put it all together. You bring up this collection of photocards in your friend’s book holder; you recognize her face on some of the cards. She laughs. Heartily. Her face lights up, honored at the thought, and it’s a sincere look. Other artists would simply wave it off and move on, but she appears intrigued by the effort to obsess over her.

She calls it a bias, and you call it an obsession. In the other’s eyes, you’re both strange. To you, it’s unhealthy and strange; to her, it’s part of the appeal, part of the culture.

So it’s all the more surprising when you admit you’re simply there because of him, that you would have looked the other way otherwise. And in response, she has this warm, wholesome smile; she doesn’t appear offended by your candidness. You don’t know a thing about them, other than they’re delicious eye candy.

“So this is your first foray into K-pop? I hope it was a good one,” she says, flashing you a cute pout. “That means a lot for all of us.”

Yeah, you nod, your eyes wandering down her slim body, draped in darkness, only brought to the light by passing street lamps. You notice how slender and lanky she is. It doesn’t change the appeal; she’s unreal. “I should go more often if that’s the case.”

Shiah chuckles. “You didn’t pay, then. I bet you’re getting more than what he bargained for.”

To which you nod, barely holding in a particularly uncharacteristic grin. She catches it. An opportunity to twist the knife.

It’s a casual affair when you reach the hotel. There’s a surprising lack of fanfare upon your arrival. You assume idols have as much popularity as any other celebrity, but you’re both left alone—and without security, walking past the front desk without a care or a question. Tension gradually builds as you climb floor after floor, until you step out that elevator and into her room, away from prying eyes. 

What welcomes you inside Shiah’s bedroom catches you off-guard.

“What the?”

The person sitting at the center of the bed turns to your direction, shouts out your name. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey! There you are!”

You immediately turn to Shiah, who replies gleefully, “Of course I knew. Your friend told me everything. He wanted me to invite you along.”

Forget that your friend orchestrated the whole ordeal. It’s the fact that he wants you to join him in a threesome. You expected him to be greedy with the rare opportunity to have a beautiful idol all to himself, but instead, he’s somehow still involving you in the action. There’s a lot to take in, and you don’t exactly know where to start.

“Is this even allowed?” you ask, unsure of your place in this room. You’re slowly soaking up the scenery; none of it makes any sense. Scattered on the bedroom floor is Your friend’s shirt and his bag, freebies and personal belongings alike,, while Shiah casually saunters around the mattress, gradually removing pieces of jewelry from herself and placing them on the nightstand.

“Of course, dude!” says your friend. His energy hasn’t waned in the slightest. You’re amazed his voice hasn’t changed at all, let alone his ability to speak. He had been screaming beside you for the entirety of the show, you’d probably go deaf because of him if not for your earplugs. “I wouldn’t have asked her if she wasn’t allowed to, or if she didn’t feel it.”

“He’s right,” adds Shiah, unbuttoning her jeans. Looking at her again, she grabs your attention with the casual stripping of her pants, pooled around her ankles, leaving only pale colored panties that leave nothing to the imagination. “Plus, I haven’t tried having a threesome before, and tonight seemed like a good idea to try that.”

Surely, you’ve heard weird things before, but none were as out of pocket as this.

“C’mere dude,” says your friend, gesturing to you to take the spot beside him on the bed. “We’re going to fuck an idol tonight. And not just any idol, my freaking bias!”

Your eyes continue to linger on her. Shiah, now undoing her top, candidly tossing them aside. The one time you regret not having your phone on hand to capture without obstruction. Her tits are bite-sized handfuls, nipples firm and on full display, and her figure is so paper thin, you’ll break her when you hold her by her ridiculous proportions. The only thing missing is some fragile warning label plastered on her skin as a reminder to handle her with care.

This is the most awkward you’ve been with your friend since you first met, when he first moved into your dorm. Seated on the mattress, you’re anxious of what’s about to happen. You worry she won’t be able to handle you two; he worries that he won’t be able to ruin her to the fullest extent. 

She meets you at the center in nothing but panties. She scans you both from head to toe, and notices your contrasting expressions. Facing you, she says, “Hey. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t confident about the idea. If you don’t make me unable to walk after tonight, I’m gonna be quite disappointed. So chin up.”

Reassuring of a tone it may sound, it doesn’t ease your worry even a little. It doesn’t discourage her either; it’s part of the challenge.

She drops to her knees, and that’s when you come around on the idea. Her fingers make work of your pants; yours first, then your friend’s. With eagerness written on her face, your hard cocks hang between her tiny face. Pausing, undecided, she takes a moment to think which one to satisfy. The way she eyes both yours, then your friend’s—you can tell how hungry she is: how she wants them shoved inside her mouth, down her throat, taking all that delicious load. If she could fit both at once, she certainly would.

“Which one should I take first, boys?” she asks, innocuous sounding, her doll-like eyes pleading up with a playful pout. Knowing full well she already has this whole thing already planned out. You and your friend swallow hard, telepathically aligned, thinking of the same idea, based on the rather silent response.

Shiah has your eyes fluttering, hands already gripped to the edge of the bed, lips letting out a string of delightful moans. It sounds like relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. She’s leaving soft kisses on your tip, her tongue running circling around your length, and her fingers slowly pumping at your base. All your doubts and hesitations, gone in an instant. The very few glimpses you catch of her, her eyes speak to you, staring, telling you to take it all in.

She feels so good, handles you deftly, as if she’s already acquainted with your cock, even though it’s the first time. Pushing all the sensitive, perfect spots and getting you into a steady rhythm. 

“See? I told you it was gonna be—fine—fuck—” 

Your friend folds just as quickly as you do, if not faster. His words, instantly reduced to echoed grunts, groans, and curses, his hand palming Shiah’s scalp. She’s focused, taking turns with each cock, kissing and teasing you both with the prospect of shoving it down her needy, thirsty throat. One hand on your dick and the other on his, stroking you at near-synchronized tempo, then vice versa. You wonder exactly why she’s even hesitant and nervous about taking two at once when she’s clearly a natural at satisfying cocks. 

She’s well aware that she has only one mouth to fulfill her craving for cock. There’s a look of regret every time she stops sucking one cock in place of the other. It’s almost as if she’s failing, even though the pleasure-ridden expressions on your faces say otherwise. “I hope this is good enough,” she frowns, taking a moment to plant another direct kiss on each cockhead. “I wish I could fit you both in my mouth, but I—”

“Shhh.” Your friend interjects, tugging harshly at Shiah’s dark locks, then rubbing his hand around her forehead. “You’re doing so fucking well, so much better than we hoped—”

Suddenly, he finds himself slowly crumbling. Precum coating around her dainty fingers, while he loses grip on his consciousness, lying flat on the bed. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the very short time you’ve had Shiah on her knees, it’s that she’s particularly gentle. You can feel she’s not going to ruin you instantly and that she’s nowhere close to crushing your cock, unlike some of the girls you’ve known in the past. 

This is all new to your friend, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising.

Still, she continues to pleasure you both, taking a moment to slip his erection inside her throat, slurping and swallowing his cock whole. Her eyes instantly slam shut, mumbling a songful hum, finally soaking in the taste after intentionally restraining herself from her lust. Turning to your side, your friend clearly can’t take her; his mouth agape, his chest heaving, breathing heavily, his eyes widely staring at the ceiling in a useless effort to distract himself. In his mind, she’s relentless, overwhelming, cruel.

Her eyes slide in your direction, brows furrowed, apologetic. You shake your head, smile lightly, perfectly understanding of the situation. It’s not that she’s ignoring you; her other hand’s pressing on the base of your cock, down to the underside, pressing on your balls. She’s already left her mark on you even though she’s doing the bare minimum. The layer of precum on her fingers is clear proof. That should be more than enough. 

And when you find your friend completely unresponsive, breathing through his mouth, you tilt your head at an angle and make this poor sleeping impression—something he hasn’t had in over 24 hours. It’s the command that causes Shiah to slip his cock from her mouth with a silent pop, his dick throbbing with her spit dripping from the tip. Her focus turns over to you; her eyes meeting yours, her hands pressing on each knee, and your fingers brushing loose strands of hair aside to see her pretty face, flushed but flawless. It’s now just down to you two. 

She gives your head a playful swirl, and you lift your brows in approval, subtly biting at the lip to show her you like it. Her eyes lock in, scanning through each subdued wince, waiting for the go ahead.

It’s the slightest head motion that nearly ends you. You’re uncertain if you even said yes or no.

Shiah looks so much better with your cock in her mouth than anyone else’s. She knows, too. You pause to take the sight in—your length buried deep in her mouth, occasionally poking her throat, her cheeks hollow, her eyes looking wide at you with a fiery glint, begging you to take her, use her, ruin her. You’re perfectly positioned to work her; your hand is palming the back of her head, giving her this assertive stare that appears demeaning, but you can tell she prefers to be seen that way. It would be criminal to have her on her knees and not have your way with her.

And you do just that.

You hold her still, using the little increments of strength to motion her into a bobbing motion. She surrenders herself into your control, moving her head back and forth with the grip of your hand. Like the swing of a pendulum, you watch your base disappear and appear between her lips. You’re nowhere close to burying yourself entirely in her mouth, but she feels so incredible, so intoxicating, she may as well be deepthroating you.

It’s not the firmness of her luscious lips kissing your cock nor her lewd expressions that shake you, but her suction. She hums this wistful note while sucking your cock—a song of satisfaction. In contrast to the steady rhythm you’re attempting to impose, she drags your length along her tongue, forcing you into this playful tug-of-war whenever you draw your cock back, directing where your cum should land. She envisions it: the notion of your hot load collected on her cheeks. Her fingers point where she wants them, using her pleading eyes and brows to entice you. 

And you’re not going to deny her request. She’s too charming and expressive to turn down. Even more so when your cock is lodged between her lips. 

You utter this particularly incomprehensible mix of a groan and a grumble while your throbbing cock unloads the warm cum she desires. Without wasting a single drop, she takes it all, puffing her cheeks with your seed while carefully pulling your cock out her mouth. Your hand is no longer resting on her head but rather around her shoulder and collarbones. She plays with the load in her mouth, gargling, swishing, before swallowing it all. Afterward, she sticks out her silky tongue, face completely flustered, showing you the aftermath: leftovers of your cum painting her mouth.

“God, Yoo—I mean, Shiah—” you breathe, lightly falling back on the bed as your legs go numb. Your flaccid cock isn’t enough to show how much she’s drained you in one fell swoop. “How are you so—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t so confident about it,” she remarks, rising to her feet before pushing you down on the sheets, straddling herself on your lap. Her energy remains steadfast. It’s infectious. Winking and pouting, she adds, “Now fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You’re completely sold on the idea, but you can’t do it alone.

Pushing Shiah off you, you shake your friend back into consciousness. You’re holding her by the shoulders, giving her lips a quick kiss. A soft gesture telling her to be a tad patient. Her eyes clue you in; she’s dying to be fucked, to be used, to be ruined. Your friend looks around, feeling hazy, completely unaware of what transpired, even though it’s only been less than 10 minutes. 

“What’d I miss?” he asks, still trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembers is Shiah on her knees. Now he sees you and his bias in each other’s embrace. Surprisingly, he’s not fazed in the slightest. The bed’s tremors—rumblings—are good enough indicators.

You’re unable to completely look him in the eye, and you don’t know what to answer, so she does it for you: “Your friend blew a nice load inside my mouth. We were just about to have round two. Join us.”

To her amusement, the reply has you staring at her utterly gobsmacked. It’s not the fact that she’s telling it straight, with zero sugarcoating, but her candid, conversational delivery and deadpan expression, as if they’re close friends catching up on lost time. He doesn’t seem bothered, nor does he ask any further questions. Knowing him, he’d be disappointed if you didn’t. 

Really, what’s there to question when given an opportunity to fuck an idol without any conditions or red tape. He’s not making the most of the moment as you have, and the hurried jump off the bed to take position behind her indicates he’s not going to waste any more time. You’re scared you might get into a confrontation over how you’ll take her.

“Say the word and I’ll move aside,” you tell him, calmly. 

“Let me have her tight ass,” is the reply, straightforward. Chalk it up to tension, but there’s a hint of harshness in his voice, as though some bitterness is leaking. He subtly pulls her away from your side, prompting you to let him take full control. 

You aren’t surprised at where he ends up taking her. The bed is the comfiest option, but in his mind, the safest and the most cliche. A shower to ease the tension and stress in the muscles—that’s a good one too, on top of having her possibly pressed against the panels and the idea of soaping her tits while fucking her in the wet. This luxurious suite, which feels like walking from the one end of a parking lot to the other on weary legs, has a handful of mirrors to watch her get railed on. None are as captivating and inviting as the biggest one—the large glass windows that overlook the city, lit up by lights from nearby skylines and the illumination from the living room. 

He presses her tiny frame against the window, then on air, giving her tiny butt a firm slap. Followed by another. Something about Shiah with her back arched, yelping with each spank, arouses him. Her too. She whines, biting on her lip, hands trying to latch to anything. There’s plenty to claim—from her bite-sized chest, to her slinky waist, to her soiled panties. Something he slips down to her ankles. 

In the moment, your friend doesn’t acknowledge you. He’s all up in her hair, licking the shell of ear, a set of clenched digits digging into her warmth. Her eyes fluttering, she whines, pressing a hand around his waist, mumbling, begging, “Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

You can tell she’s apologetic, wants to be punished and manhandled like a naughty girl. Your friend has this glare in his eyes—a look of hunger. His fingers pump away at her core, without care for pace or comfort, just the satisfaction of hearing her cries and the need for her to cum. Bumping her against the window, he’s kissing her, claiming her as his own. Red marks form everywhere on her neck, collarbones, and back. Her entire body. All his. 

You let him. You watch. Not out of guilt, not out of arousal. It’s his moment.

He looks over his shoulder and finds you just watching. “C’mere,” he growls between muted groans, tone low. It should be awkward (it is) but all that tension disappeared the moment she got on her knees. Approaching the twosome in such a strange fashion, he continues to finger Shiah, shifting her away from the window, binding her from behind by one hand. He’s suppressing his tongue, teasing his cockhead against the entrance of her pussy, barely able to restrain himself. 

When you’re in front of her again, you’re greeted by a hot mess. Her juices are dripping down her thighs, pooling around her feet. His coated fingers line around her warmth, around her tight hole. His lust is on full display, cussing out a storm about how incredibly wet and tight she is while she prepares herself to get fucked into oblivion. It’s not the first time you’ve heard him say these things; he talks a loud talk about how he’d fuck his biases in explicit detail, writes particularly concerning essays about the positions they’d be railed in, how they would cum, and how many times he would make them cum. 

At the end of the day, it was none of your business.

And ultimately, he might have been onto something.

You let out this loud unsuppressed moan burying yourself inside her tight cunt. She’s suffocating, overwhelmingly tight—the kind of heat that can make you cum almost immediately. You’re still recovering from your first orgasm, putting you on the backfoot. Still, her walls are too inviting not to get hard again. Meanwhile, your friend, who’s been eager to fuck Shiah’s ass for the longest time, is in no rush. His cock is barely entering her tight hole, slowly easing himself inside her with deep breaths. He’s grabbing a handful of her flesh, openly moaning and grunting taking her.

“F-fuck, Yoo—” he mutters, grabbing at her petite cheeks with an ironclad grip. Pulling her closer to his body so his cock can split her in half. He’s growing greedy—and desperate.

Everything you’re doing to Shiah can be seen in the window’s reflection: you pounding into her tight cunt, your friend’s cock spearing her from behind, her body practically sandwiched between your twosome. The combined weight is more than capable of crushing her slim frame, her skin like tire marks on both your chests. Neither of you move with an understanding of working as a team, and it shows; your collective strokes are unsteady, erratic, chaotic.

This isn’t good for your back—at all. Shiah’s bent forward in part to your friend’s slow, deep thrusts into her delicious ass, rippling with each stroke. She’s clutching to your shoulders for support, screaming from the absolute depths of her lungs getting doubled up. The uncomfortable position is mostly clouded by the overwhelming sensation of your cocks tag teaming on her two sensitive holes. You’re leaning, steadily falling back. That inescapable warmth—that intoxicating heat—keeps you coming back for more, friction be damned.

God, Shiah’s pussy is so fucking perfect.

And that’s what you end up muttering. In an endless choir of ecstasy-charged moans, profanities, and wet sloppy slaps of skin against skin, you throw those words out to the wind. So good, so tight—those doubts you had entering the room, now just thoughts from yesterday. She’s everything you want in a satisfying fuck; your hands intertwined with her waist, rocking her frame with every plunge, savoring each entry into that needy womb.

It’s no surprise then that she cums so soon.

It’s been slowly building to this moment. The signs were there all along; the blink and you’ll miss it patch on her jeans, the phallic object in her purse, the wet puddle forming on her panties, the not so subtle gestures she’s giving fans between performances—she’s been desperate to cum on a cock and her wish can finally be granted. 

In dramatic fashion, she’s all over you. Clinging to you like her lifeline, showing you how you’ve ruined her. Body trembling, legs quaking—the ripples send shockwaves through your body, also in the process of falling apart. Throwing out her hips, a new layer of juices coat both cocks, dripping to the floor. You’re there to break her fall, but you have nothing to stop yours. 

Passing through deaf ears, her screams revert to soft pleas. “Cum, cum in me—please—fuck—” she whines in bursts, riding out her climax in waves, waiting for you two to join her over the edge. You’re preoccupied with the raging fire in your loins, restraining your urge to release your seed inside her needy cunt prematurely. At this point, you’re almost done, holding onto the last of your resolve not to spurt right then and there. The layer of her slick coating your cock doesn’t do you any favors, either.

Propping her body straight, your thrusts remain relentless. Steadied pace, at your own will, rocking her senseless—that’s how you want to finish inside her. You want to keep her in that position: cupping her tiny chest, wrapping an arm on the neck, resting a hand on your light shoulder. Shiah’s body is the perfect plaything.

All of that is too good to be true.

“Cumming, gonna cum—” you mutter, rather ashamedly, though you’re holding up better than anyone ever expected, especially after already orgasming once. You press her to your friend, almost a flat out shove. The line couldn’t be any thinner. “Shit—”

Your legs are on the cusp of crumbling, but at least they’re generous enough to let you savor this moment. Spilling your pent up need, you fuck that remaining cum into her. It’s fulfilling, euphoric. All the proof is down there, dripping between her legs and on your cock. The sight of her splayed, wrecked hole, oozing with seed, tempting you to stick a thumb around her slick core. She squirms at your sensitive touches, still needy and in want.

Only after the orgasm does your vision clear again. It’s an amusing scene; your friend is still pounding into Shiah’s tight ass at a feverish pace. Last one in, last one out—at least you think, that’s how the saying goes, until he lets out this guttural groan, indicating he’s reached his own climax too. If not for the setting, it’s an accomplishment worth cheering, the kind that’s worth a celebration of a life milestone. Cocks buried to the hilt, the sight of her holes spilling seed never grows old. 

At least you both can agree on one thing: staying inside the welcoming warmth that is Shiah’s heat. Neither of you want to leave, even when you regain mobility in your legs.

You’ve got the rest of the night to ruin her, leave her room hobbling or crawling on her feet. Your friend has a bucket list of positions to fuck her in, so it’s the least of your worries. Besides, both of them know you have no intention of leaving. And in the middle of this non-existent conundrum, while your friend is leaving soft kisses all over her back as a victory lap, she takes a moment to glance at you both. Noticing the similarity of smiles on your faces and your supportive nature towards your friend, she’s reminded of something she shares with her members, apart from the fact they’re getting railed at this very moment:

True friendship.

—————

(A/N: Expect a bit more crowdedness aka more-somes over the next few fics. I also haven't written an Oh My Girl member since Arin in over a year, so that's one off the list! This one took a while, had a whole other story involving roadtrips and hitchhiking, which I ultimately scrapped. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

[crazyk-imagine]

Kicking and Newfound Spouses

Pairing: Shawn Hunter x Female!reader

Characters: Shawn Hunter, Female!reader, Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawrence, Jack Hunter

Warnings: Fluff, Cory being a dramatic bish, Panga is our homie, Jack is clueless, Shawn just wants his lady love, Eric is not mentioned but hiding somewhere in the scene, this was fun, I wanted to write for this fandom for a while, my baby bad boy hunter for the win, shawn introducing himself is an inside joke

Word Count: 570

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

You sit at the corner booth in your favorite restaurant, enjoying the quietness at your table even as the noise around you gets louder.

-

Shawn looks to his left and finds you, sitting there looking as pretty as ever.

Cory catches his gaze and realizes what, more like who, he’s looking at.

He shakes his head, “hey, Shawn.”

His friend turns to look at him.

“No.”

He pouts.

-

Topanga slips away from the two and wanders towards your table.

-

“Remember when we were ten and turned eleven?”

“Vaguely but go on.”

“She kicked you out of your chair because you called her essay messy. Are you- are you still with me here?”

“I am but I don’t see your point.”

“She will kick you out of your chair again, Shawn.”

“And I’ll lay on the floor a happy man.” He all but runs away from Cory.

-

“Hey," he slips in beside you. “Shawn hunter at your service,” he holds his hand out to you.

You glance at it and his face and can’t understand why he’s at the booth or trying to persuade you. “To what? Fail?”

He furrows his brows confused by your comment, most girls would start swooning over him by now.

He shakes his head and continues. “No, to study.”

-

Cory stands in the corner still, biting his nails. “He's lost it.”

-

“You’ve never once studied in your life, Hunter. What makes you think I’d want to study with you now?”

“It’ll be a date you won’t forget,” he tells you with one hundred percent certainty.

You take a deep breath, “I’ll admit that was a little smooth on your part, kudos to you but I can’t take that chance right now. I’m trying to get a good grade.”

“What about after?”

“After what?”

“The test. I want to go out with you.” You glance at Topanga from the corner of your eye, needing some reassurance that what he’s saying is real and not a joke.

You angle yourself to face him, “if there was ever a time where I’d say yes, which I haven’t yet, what would you be willing to do in order for that date to happen?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’ll let you kick me out of this booth.”

The corner of your lips twitch. “You two can’t let that go, huh.”

“No, Cory’s traumatized by it but for me, that was the day I knew I met someone who I’d be happy calling my wife.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but chuckle.

He always knew the things to say to get a response out of you.

“Deal.” You hold your hand out for him to shake.

He shakes your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it before letting you kick him out.

“My butt might be sore later, but I’m not upset about it.”

-

Jack leans down to ask Cory, “did he just let someone kick him out of a booth?”

The younger man nods his head, “he told her to.”

“I’m afraid to ask but why?”

“They’re going on a date.”

“Oh. Oh. He does realize that’s not how you ask a girl out, right?”

“He has his methods, and you have yours.”

[messedupfan]

Chapter 19

Summary: Y/n finds some interesting information about Rachel while cleaning her room.

A/n: I wasn't sure about this chapter but considering tonight is the presidential debate, nothing can be worse than that. I hope this is better than that. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda sets the last box on top of another and puts her hands on her hips as she looks at the shed. It was a mess when she first opened it yesterday. She couldn't believe how much crap had collected inside over the years. She threw out most of the useless items and whatever gardening and landscaping tools she had, she moved to the garage. Though she doubted she'd need them again since the tools were only used once by Vision before he hired a team of people to take care of the yards. 

The shed is once again a disorganized mess of boxes but she knows that you won't let them collect dust. “I should probably patch up some holes in here before I leave, I don't know what the weather is going to be like before I can get in here and really set up and I don't want anything to get ruined.” You say as you analyze the space. 

Wanda nods, “Yeah, do whatever you have to. It's your space now.” 

“Almost like we're moving in together,” you joke, which makes both of you laugh awkwardly. “Sorry I don't know where that,” you start but Wanda doesn't let you finish as she waves you off. 

“It's okay,” she says with a kind smile. The two of you get quiet and stand in front of each other awkwardly. Not sure what to say or do. She wants to ask you so many questions. She wants to hold you and tell you that she loves you. She wants to throw caution into the wind and ask you to move in. But she knows that she can't. She's not ready. She takes a slow breath and opens her mouth to ask if you're feeling better but thankfully, her phone starts ringing. “I have to take this,” she says as she puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, yeah, let me get somewhere private.” She mouths an apology to you just before turning to the back door of her house. She rushes up the steps of the deck and then to her office. She feels you trailing her up until she gets to the stairs inside of the house. 

“Since when do you need to find privacy to talk to me?” Agatha says on the other end of the call.

Wanda hurries into her home office but isn't careful enough to ensure that the door is shut all the way. She stands in the middle of her office with her back to the door. “Since I realized that I'm in love with Y/n and I needed to get the words out before I self implode,” she rushes out as if she was holding a deep breath. 

“Woah, woah,” Agatha says with a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m going to need you to slow down and annunciate for me, honey. What's happening?” 

Wanda swallows and inhales through her nose. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of losing it lately. Ever since I started seeing Dr. Winslow I feel like I can't keep a secret anymore because it doesn't feel good. But now is not the time for me to go proclaiming my love to Y/n.” Wanda starts to nibble on her thumb nail. 

“Why not? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you feel about them,” Agatha asks.

“Because they have a lot going on. And I still have a lot of things to work through.” She doesn't want to go into the details with Agatha so she keeps it vague. “But I can finally admit it to myself and well, you, about how I feel.” 

“Yeah, why are you telling me this now? I’ve been losing bets over this and now you feel this way?” Agatha scoffs as she thinks about how much money she's lost because she could see what her friend continued to deny. 

“I'm sorry, it's still relatively new to me. If it makes you feel any better, you indirectly helped me get to this point,” Wanda lamely offers up. 

“That's why I called you,” Agatha says as she is reminded why she even dialed up her friend. “How has the therapy been? Good for you?” 

“Oh they've been amazing! Thank you for introducing me to Dr. Winslow, I really don't think I could thank you enough,” Wanda says gratefully. 

“I told you, he's really that good,” Agatha states proudly.

“Yeah, he has made me feel things I haven't felt before, or I guess, he's made me understand feelings that I haven't been able to identify before. Yeah, that sounds better,” Agatha laughs and it makes Wanda laugh too. “Stop with your dirty mind. You know what I mean.” Agatha agrees. “It’s really weird though, I feel like he understands me better than I understand me. I'm not sure I like it but it's been helpful so I can't really complain can I?” 

“I told you not to go to him unless you were ready to really learn about yourself,” Agatha says. 

“I know, I know. I am appreciative and grateful and all of the other positive words. But gah, I miss the ability to hold in my feelings.” Wanda shakes her head as she thinks about you. She turns around when she hears footsteps and her eyes widen as she realizes that she didn't shut the office door all of the way. “I um I uh shit! I have to call you later Agatha! I forgot to close the damn door!” 

“So much for that privacy you were looking for,” Agatha quips. “I love you, hon. Have a good rest of your evening?” She ends the call and Wanda sets her phone on her desk as she sits against the front of it and puts her face into her hands. 

She takes a moment for herself then she remembers that she hasn't washed her hands yet.  She quickly makes her way to the bathroom in her bedroom to wash her face and her hands. By the time she dries off she has convinced herself that you didn't hear anything because you would have come inside and done something. She considers that one of the kids might've heard but she knows who's footsteps those belonged to. They were definitely yours. 

Wanda walks into the kitchen to find you chopping vegetables. “You're already starting on the salad? We haven't even talked about what we're having as the main course,” she says as she grabs her apron to have her hands do something other than wrap around your body. She hardly wears it but it was a mother's day gift from her boys a couple years ago so she keeps it around. 

You shrug as you focus on chopping. “Yeah but I'm sure it's going to include a salad so I figured it'd be better to start instead of sitting around doing nothing.” You stop chopping for a second to look at her. “How was your phone call?” 

Wanda gives you a tight smile as her heart pounds in her chest with fear and anticipation. She isn't ready for you to know about her feelings yet. “It was good. It was Agatha. She was just checking on how my therapy is going. Since she recommended him to me and all,” Wanda opens the pantry to start pulling out ingredients. 

“I should probably start looking into therapy,” you state as you start to feel like an idiot. Of course she was talking about a therapist! She didn't push you away to be with another person, she pushed you away to be with herself. But that doesn't mean you need to feel guilty about dating. It's what she wants and you're respecting that.

Wanda surprises you by placing her hand on the middle of your back but you settle into the touch as it spreads a warm tingly sensation throughout your back. “I think with everything going on, that sounds like a great idea.” She leans her head against your shoulder. “Have things ended physically between you and Jean before?” Wanda asks carefully. Her hand starts to rub small circles on your back. You stop moving the knife as there's no more vegetables to cut. 

“I wouldn't say that it was crazy physical but this isn't the first time she's smacked me out of anger. It's probably the third or fourth time. That's not to say I didn't deserve it,” you say softly. Wanda shakes her head as she moves away and turns you to face her. “Wanda, I should not have confronted her like that. It wasn't fair to her. And honestly, I felt out of control. I'm glad it went the way that it did and not the other way around.” 

“Do you really think you're capable of something like that?” Wanda asks as her eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes. 

“I like to believe that I'm not. I didn't feel like I was going to hurt her physically. I had no intention to. The idea wasn't in my mind. But who knows what any of us are capable of?” You reply as honestly as you can because you don't know if you are capable of inflicting physical harm on anyone. You got into little nothing fights in high school that ended in laughter before anything got serious. But nothing has pushed you past your limits enough. Even drunk and getting into arguments with someone, it never ended in a real physical fight. 

“It was never going to end that way. Don’t doubt your abilities to keep yourself in check, Y/n. You are capable of many things. Choosing physical violence isn’t one of them and that’s a great thing,” Wanda says with a firm tone that makes you believe her words. You nod and thank her. “Any time. Now let’s make these kids some dinner before they start getting cranky,” she says with a kind smile before stepping away from you. 

The two of you step into an easy rhythm of cooking together and when the ingredients start to create an aroma that travels throughout the house, the kids are running down the stairs eager to be part of the process. There isn’t much for them to do other than watch and wait since it was just a simple pasta with a side salad. The kids, however, made themselves useful by setting the table and getting drinks poured for everyone. When the meal was ready, everyone served themselves before meeting at the table. You love the dinners that you are fortunate to have at Wanda’s but you know that you’re going to have to dial it back soon. It’s not fair to the kids to get attached to the idea of this family. Because it's not real. 

Something that you didn't realize was already a problem until a couple of weekends later. You are cleaning Rachel's room because it had gotten messy throughout the weeks and you didn't feel like arguing about it. She wasn't a bad kid and with things being tense between you and her mother, you don't feel that she should be punished for an unkempt room. You remember being a kid with a tense family dynamic and how your room would be a mess as a result of it. Cleaning her room for her healed a part of your inner child. The younger version of you who was struggling for a long time and instead of being met with compassion or concern was only ever berated and punished for things like a messy room. 

Rachel had a sleepover with Tommy and Billy at Wanda’s house the night before. Wanda tried to convince you to join them but you declined. Instead, you spent the free night with Nebula. The two of you met for dinner then ended the night at your place. She has a great sense of humor and she made you laugh for hours. You attempted to do the same, unfortunately she had to politely inform you that your humor needed some work. 

“But don't worry, I'm still willing to stick around,” she flipped her hair and leaned in. You smiled at her and kissed her cheek. You enjoy her company, you aren't sure what kind of future you'll have with her, but you like her enough to find out. 

Spending time with Nebula made you realize what you liked about Daisy and why you kept that relationship going for as long as you did. It was how she admired you. At least how she admired an idea of you that she cultivated for years. That she managed to still like you past the mental pedestal. You might not have been aware of her crush on you when she was younger but the comments that Kate made about it made you feel good about yourself. Being with her made you feel a bit more confident even though it was at her emotional expense. 

Being with Nebula is refreshing. She isn't your former boss’ daughter. She isn't your current one's sister. She doesn't know anything about your past aside from what you choose to share. And you have no ties or connection to her and her past. A past that hasn't come around to haunt her. Not that you minded Wanda’s troubles. You have plenty of your own. But spending time with Nebula gave you a new perspective when it came to dating. Sure, you still have stronger feelings for Wanda, but she doesn't want you. This time around, you have a real confirmation that she doesn't want to be anything more than a friend. You can't put your life on hold on the chance that she might change her mind. 

You are snapped from your thoughts when you step on something poking out from under Rachel's bed. You look down and see a small trail of ants marching from there. “Gross,” you make a face and leave the room to get gloves and a face mask on as well as a handful of trash bags and bug spray. You hated finding old food. You hadn't realized how bad she was getting until you looked under the bed. There were stacks of paper plates with food leftover in them. There were some clothes that you suppose were meant to help hide the unfinished food. You feel a little better when you see bite marks in the moldy food but you know that you're going to have to have a talk with her when you pick her up. 

You end up having to move the bed in order to get it properly cleaned and disinfected. Jean used to do the same thing when the two of you were growing up. You hope you can help Rachel with the habit before it gets bad. As much as you don't want to talk to Jean, you know you're going to have to discuss this with her. Especially since she's going to have to clean under Rachel's bed at her house. 

When you're done cleaning from under the bed, you decide to strip it so that she can have clean sheets to return to. When you do that, you notice something sticking out from between the mattress and the box spring. The paper looked oddly familiar and you are reminded of the top secret project that she wouldn't let anyone see. You want to respect her privacy but the curiosity and concern takes over and you lift the mattress to pull it out carefully. 

It's a flimsy poster made up of construction paper taped and glued together. At the top in big letters it says, “How to get Ms. Wanda and Baba together!” You pull it all of the way out and sit on the bed with a deep frown on your face as you read the steps of her plan. At the bottom is a little note that says, “Check Rocket for updates.” You set the poster down and go into her closet where you had found her plush raccoon toy earlier. She named it Rocket because it has a spacesuit on and she was in her astronaut phase when she received the toy as a present. 

You didn't know that it had a zipper on the back until now when you find it as you try to figure out how he was storing updates for her. You open it and find folded pieces of paper each labeled with a date. You open the one from the beginning of the year and are shocked to find out that she witnessed the kiss between you and Wanda. You open another one and read about the time that you and Wanda played a dance game together in the living room while you guys thought the kids were playing with each other upstairs. She wrote about how happy Wanda made you. 

Another page, she wrote about how she really felt about her accident. That she was having nightmares about the fall but that sometimes you or Wanda were there to catch her in the dream. She wants Wanda to be her mom. She wrote, “With Anna I didn't get a choice. Mommy loves Momma Anna. She's nice but she isn't Ms. Wanda. I know that I can't make Baba choose Ms. Wanda. But I can make them see that Ms. Wanda is the best person for them. I think Baba could love Ms. Wanda already. They are brighter and happier when we are with Ms. Wanda. The smile on Baba’s face is bigger than when we have Miss Daisy over. I don't like Miss Daisy. She isn't Ms. Wanda.” 

You stop reading because these updates feel like personal journal entries. You fold them back up and stuff them in Rocket. You finish cleaning her room and make her bed. Not sure what else to do, you drive to a nearby store and buy Rachel a real diary with a set of pencils and erasers for her and put it all together in a small gift bag. 

You leave the present in the car when you get to Wanda’s house. You text Wanda to have her meet you outside so that you can chat with her before confronting the kids. You stand outside of your car with the poster and Rocket in your hand. As you were putting the papers back inside, you realized that some of them weren't written by your daughter. So this matter wasn't just a one on one with you and Rachel. The twins were involved as well. 

“What's going on?” Wanda asks as she meets you in the driveway. You hand her the poster and her eyebrows twitch with confusion. She smiles at first and it slowly drops as she processes what she's reading then it returns because it’s so silly. “Honestly, this is so cute. They ship us,” Wanda turns to you with her amused grin. 

“You don't see this as a problem?” You ask as you pull out the “updates” that the kids have written and hand them to her. She reads a couple of pages before her expression changes. 

“Okay, it's kind of creepy knowing that they're watching us so closely. Gahd, I really thought Billy bought that story that you had a nightmare,” she shakes her head as she lowers the pages from her view. “But, I don't know. It's kind of sweet that my boys want me with someone like you. Someone that they've only ever seen make me happy. And that Rachel would choose me to be another mother for her. Especially with everything going on with Jean. How is that by the way?” 

“I stay in my apartment at pick ups and drop offs now. They don't want me near their house,” you state. “Which is fine with me, I don't want to see them either.” Wanda nods to show her understanding of the situation. “Anyway, I think we need to talk to the kids about this. I don't think it's good for them.” 

“They're just kids with an innocent fantasy of becoming a family,” Wanda defends their actions. “What's wrong with letting them continue to believe that they can bring a family together?” 

You frown as you look at the so-called operation. You don't know why you feel the need to crush their dreams. But it's not going to be a reality. “It doesn't seem like it could be damaging? Now I know why Rachel was so adamantly against Daisy. She won't accept anyone I date if she thinks there's a chance,” you look away from Wanda. Avoiding actually having to verbalize a rejection you're still coping with. You close your eyes and take a slow breath through your nose as you think about one of the reasons this bothers you. “I started seeing someone. It's still new and I don't think I'm at the point of introducing Rachel to her. But I might someday and I don't want a repeat of last time.”

Wanda tries to keep her expression neutral. She can't believe that you're already feeling serious about someone else. She thought you might date around but in the way she was dating around. Nothing serious, just a person or a few people to have fun with every now and then. She didn't think that you would find someone you would like enough to crush your daughter's dreams. 

“You've made it clear that you don't see that kind of future with me,” you state with an emotionless expression that catches Wanda's attention. She wants to correct you but she doesn't feel that she has the right to. She knows that she is in love with you, but she isn't ready to be in a relationship. Not yet. Telling you those words would only mean she felt that way and not that she was ready to act on them. 

“Right,” she nods. “Well, I don't think we should rush in there and tell them that this will never happen. Let's think about it. If by next Sunday we don't agree on an appropriate approach, then we will think about it longer. It will be okay. Besides, they might grow out of the idea.” 

You nod as you feel a little bit better about the whole thing. “You're right, we shouldn't confront them about it yet.” 

“Where did you get that?” Rachel says with the boys standing behind her. You and Wanda turn to look at them, then look at each other with panic in your eyes. Wanda tries to hand off the evidence to you but you push it back towards her. She pushes it towards you and the two of you go back and forth until you surrender. 

“Kids, we need to have a little chat,” you finally say as you take the papers from Wanda's hands and walk towards the house. You pace in front of the kids as they sit on the sofa. The evidence is displayed on the coffee table between you and them. Wanda stands behind you, leaning against the wall. 

The three kids look at each other as they wait. Each of them comes up with a different story in their heads as they wait under your glare for you to say more. They can't handle your silence and crack under the pressure. Tommy is the first to point a finger at Billy who blames Rachel who then throws Tommy under the bus making him turn on Rachel. It goes in circles until you hold your hand up. They all stop. 

“No one is in trouble,” you start. You look at Wanda who doesn't have much to say on the matter. She wishes they had the week to think about this. You turn back to the children, not quite sure where you're about to go. “We are just concerned because,” you helplessly look back at Wanda. “Want to help me out?” She shakes her head and encourages you to continue. You drop your head for a second and return your attention to the kids. 

“Can you explain what this is exactly?” You ask helplessly. The three children exchange looks but end up deciding to stay quiet in the end. “Okay,” you back up to where Wanda is standing. “I'm not good at this,” you whisper to her. 

“I think you're doing great,” she says with humor in her eyes as she holds back from laughing. You tilt your head at her unamused. She sighs, “Okay, let me try.” She steps forward and crouches down to level with the coffee table. She looks at the pages that are full of words and drawings. Her eyes danced from page to page in thought. “Y/n is right, none of you are in trouble. We're just concerned and a little confused. What exactly are you guys hoping will happen if you,” she looks at the master plan, “‘keep leaving us alone together’ and ‘drop hints to be together.’ Do you guys think that's how families are made?”

Rachel is the first to crack this time. She starts with a shrug. Then a soft, “I don't know.” Wanda nods and with a soft expression she asks Rachel to try and explain the idea. “I just, it started when my Baba was building your wall. And I got to hang out with Billy and Tommy and Luna. I don't like being an only child. I like pretending I'm Billy and Tommy's sister. We have a lot of fun together. Then we were having the kind of family dinners I've always dreamed of. Plus Tommy said that my Baba is nicer to you than their dad.” 

Tommy chooses then to speak up. “They make you smile a lot. Dad, used to make you smile sometimes but not like Y/n. I like how happy you are when they're around.” 

Wanda starts to feel herself getting choked up and you can feel the weight of their words. You decide to sit with Wanda at the coffee table to continue to hear them out. “Yeah, I've never heard Y/n call you mean names. Daddy called you so many mean names,” Billy says next. “He calls us names too and we don't like it. But Y/n is always nice to us and they're nice to you.” 

Wanda tries to fight her tears as she is overwhelmed by her emotions. She fucked up. That's all she can think about. She fucked up. “Mom don't cry, we're sorry,” Tommy says as he stands up and walks around the table to hug his mom. Billy joins in, cutting in between the two of you to hug her other side. It causes Wanda to cry harder even though she doesn't want to be having this breakdown in front of her boys. You start to rub her back to offer your comfort and support. Wanda believed that she was careful to not let the boys witness the darkness that loomed over her relationship with their father. That only recently they've witnessed the relationship taking a turn. To know that they've always been aware of the animosity is heartbreaking. 

Rachel joins the pile. She apologizes as she does and Wanda can't tell her that she shouldn't because she is sobbing. You didn't realize that Wanda had so much pain built up inside of her. You feel guilty that you can't give her the privacy that she gave you weeks ago. With the way she holds onto her boys, it's easy to see that she doesn't mind at the moment. 

When Wanda stops crying she excuses herself to clean up and instead of following her, you stay with the kids. You sit with them and listen to what they have to say. It is flattering to know what the boys think of you. And it's sweet of your daughter to want you to have what she thinks is the type of love her mom found. She wants you to be happy and she thinks that's with Wanda. You sigh at the thought. 

“Honey, I am happy. I don't need a relationship to be happy. You know that,” you say. You don't want her to believe a person's happiness stems from another person.

“I know, but I want you to be happier. Ms. Wanda makes you happier,” she argues and you sigh again. She wasn't wrong but you couldn't tell her that. 

“Alright, we're going to drop this and we're going to order something to eat. How does that sound?” You say because you don't know what else to do. You don't want to tell them that it's not a possibility when deep down, you hope things will change. 

They agree and you clean up their little project. You don't want to throw it away so you just collect it and remove it from the coffee table. You take it out to the truck and put it in an unused folder for safe keeping. You walk back inside to find the three debating on a movie. You take the time to look for Wanda. 

She is lying on her side on her bed. She is clutching a pillow to her chest. You don't walk into her room just yet. Instead, you walk back down stairs and fill a glass with ice and water, the way she enjoys water the most. The kids are focused on a movie when you pass them. 

You gently knock on Wanda's half closed door and wait to be invited in. She lets out a soft, “I'm okay, I'll be down in a few.” 

It breaks your heart to hear her so forlorn. “It's me,” you say in a broken whisper. 

“Come in,” she sniffles and you step through the door. You shut it behind you before you walk to the side of her bed. She doesn't move when she sees the glass of water so you set it on the coaster on her nightstand. You sit on the floor in front of her and the both of you stare at each other for a long time. Her nose is red and her cheeks are pink with puffy eyes. She has mucus making its way down her nose. Her cheeks are wet with tears. You want to take the tissues from her nightstand and wipe her face but you don't want to invade her personal space without her permission. 

“What do you need,” you ask after a while. 

“A time machine,” she answers softly with a small tug on the corner of her lips. You flash a smile and look down at your hand for a second then look back up at her. 

“Don't we all?” You pause and tilt your head so that you match her head's position. “Unfortunately, I don't have access to one of those. Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

Wanda scratches under her nose and cringes. She quickly grabs tissues to clean herself up but it ends up being for nothing as she starts crying again. “I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening.” 

“You've been carrying a lot. It's okay to have moments like this,” you say you offer your hand. She takes it and squeezes it tightly. 

“I know, but why today? Tomorrow would have been better. Or Monday. Or even next Saturday. Why now? When my boys are here. When you and Rachel are here,” she whines as she stuffs more tissues in her face. You frown and sigh as you shake your head. 

“I don't know,” you answer honestly. “At least you’re not experiencing this alone. The kids are fine, they will continue to be fine. I will be here, I will take care of them. I will take care of you. I will-” Wanda’s body starts shaking as she starts to cry hysterically again. “Screw it,” you say as you climb in the bed with her and wrap your body around her to help soothe her. “Breathe, Wanda,” you say as you hold her tightly. “Breathe,” you take slow breaths for her to mimic. She struggles at first but eventually she is able to breathe with you. When she settles down and stops shaking you stop holding her and you climb off of the bed. 

You clear your throat, “Drink your water. I’m going to chat with the kids and order some food. I'll check on you in a bit.” You walk out of the room and shut the door behind you as you do. 

The kids each state what they are craving and so that you can help them come to an agreement, you offer them three options that come close to their requests. Then you have them vote on which one they want the most. Tommy is the first to cast his vote which makes Rachel lean in a different direction. Billy ultimately agrees to whatever Rachel wants so it makes it slightly easier until Tommy gives a compelling argument. It doesn't take too long before you're putting in their orders for Chinese food. You order your favorites and order what you know Wanda likes. 

You stay with the kids and watch the movie with them to allow Wanda the time alone that she wants. Tommy expresses his boredom when you're trying to pick another movie so the four of you start to play a video game while waiting for the food to be delivered. 

When the food does arrive, you serve the kids before you collect Wanda's food and display it on a tray that she has stored in one of her kitchen cabinets. You make her another glass of water and set it on the tray and carefully carry it to her room. Wanda’s face is clearer when you walk in. She sits up in her bed when she sees you and offers a tired smile as you set the tray over her lap. 

“Oh this is perfect. How did you know?” She asks as she looks hungrily at the food on her tray. 

You shrug and smile, “I'm just that good.” You grab her empty cup from the nightstand. “I'll leave you to it.” She thanks you as you walk out of the room. You enjoy your meal with the kids on your own and when everyone has cleared their messes from the table, you decide to bring out a board game. Wanda finds the four of you laughing together while she is bringing her tray of empty dishes down the stairs. Instead of continuing on, she hides in the shadows and just watches. 

She used to do this when the boys were younger, usually after fighting with Vision. She thought about leaving him so many times but then she'd see him with the boys. He would be watching a soccer game and the boys would want his attention. He would typically ignore them or give them something to distract them or he'd send them off to their room. Those times, she worried about what their lives would be like without her. But there were moments when he was a doting father. He'd play with them. He'd watch their favorite movies with them, at the time they were animated musicals, and he'd sing along. That's when she was reminded of how she fell for him in the first place. Because when he was in a good mood, he could light up a room. He had the ability to make everyone feel as good as he felt. His mood swings were not healthy, but she couldn't justify leaving him at the time. 

Now she wishes that she had done it sooner. She wonders if she had left him before he left her, would she have been able to let you in when you confessed your feelings to her? She wonders if she would have this doubt that she will ruin you and make you as bitter as Vision. Logically, she knows that Vision has always been who he is. But there is a convincing irrational voice in her head that says she is the reason Vision went from loving and present to distant and bitter. 

She walks down with her tray and a fresh face. She tries to pass without bringing attention to herself but her boys jump out of their seats and run up to hug her. Wanda smiles as she greets them. You stand up and take the tray from her hands so that she can hug her boys. She thanks you as you take it all to the sink. 

“Do you want to join us?” You ask, walking out of the kitchen. 

“Um, I don't know. I don't want to mess with whatever you guys have going on,” she says as she looks at the board and how far they are into the game. 

“Oh we were just about to start a new game, right guys?” You try to get the kids to go along with you but they disagree. 

“You only want to start over because you're losing!” Rachel says, making you shake your head to deny the accusation. 

“Mom, we're kicking Y/n’s butt,” Billy giggles as he looks up at his mom. 

“Yeah, Y/n only wants us to start over because they're really bad,” Tommy laughs as he squeezes his arms around his mom.

“Alright, alright,” you surrender. “We're not starting a new game but I can use your help with being the banker. It's been difficult for me to keep track of everything on my own.”

“Okay, sure,” Wanda sits down next to you and takes over the banker role. She mediates arguments with the rule book. She helps you catch up with the kids with some tricks she's learned over the years and you wink at her when you notice the difference her help has made for you. 

When the game is over and Billy has won, Tommy looks like he's about to throw a fit but you quickly tell him how impressive he was throughout the game. Then you say that you are proud of both of them. He holds his hand out to his brother, says “Good game,” then goes upstairs to get ready for bed. 

You take Rachel home after washing the dishes and saying goodnight to Wanda and the boys. You give her the gift and suggest that she should start writing how she feels in the journal instead of random notes stored in her stuffed animal. She thanks you with a hug. When you get home you sit her down and talk to her about her recent food habits and ask her to come to you when she's ready and that for now, the two of you will be eating all meals at the table including snacks. 

“You're not in trouble,” you clarify when she starts to cry and apologize. “Your mom struggled with food for a long time, honey. It's not your fault baby girl. It's no one's fault. Just, we're going to figure this out together okay?” You say as you hold your struggling daughter. Promising her that everything will be okay. 

The next morning, you decide you have to violate the new rules that Jean and Anna have implemented with pick ups and when Anna sends the text that she and Jean are waiting for Rachel in the parking garage, you walk with your daughter hand in hand. Anna gets out of the car when she sees you in order to keep you away. 

“You're not supposed to come out, we still haven't forgiven you yet,” Anna says defensively. 

“We agreed that Rachel comes first, I need to talk to Jean about her,” you state firmly. Rachel squeezes your hand and looks up at you. She shakes her head. 

“I don't want to talk about it with mom, please baba,” she pleads and you lower yourself to her level. 

“Honey, your mom can help you with this better than I can. She needs to know. She can help me too,” you explain. 

Anna softens a bit and turns to the car to tell Jean to get out. The four of you walk back into your apartment and sit down at the kitchen table. You go over what you found underneath Rachel's bed and some of the things you read from papers you found around her room. You didn't mention that it was from entries for her plan to get you to be with Wanda. That wasn't necessary. Jean covers mouth and starts to cry as she thinks of her history with this struggle and feels terrible for passing this trait onto her. You rub her back as you offer her comfort telling her to not blame herself. 

Anna watches her wife be comforted by her ex over an issue that she wasn’t aware of. She had no idea that Jean had a food problem and she starts to realize that the signs have always been there. Moments when Jean would only serve her and Rachel and claim that she had a big lunch. Or the odd smell that came from Rachel’s room and the way that she would freeze whenever it was mentioned to her. The missing items of her step-daughter’s clothing that she couldn’t find and Rachel claimed she left it at her Baba’s house. She can’t believe she missed the signs. And she feels isolated from the family again. She feels isolated from her wife as she watches you and Jean start to make a plan for helping Rachel. Another reminder that she is your daughter.

You are unaware that Anna feels left out as you focus on Rachel and her needs. Jean thanks you for bringing this situation to her during this tense time between the two of you.

“Our differences aside, I will always put Rachel first as I’m sure you feel the same way,” you say while you hold Jean’s hand between yours. She nods as she agrees and that’s when Anna rises out of her chair. It feels a little abrupt to you.

Anna clears her throat and checks her phone, “We have to go, my mom invited us to see my parents' new place. Um, bye, Y/n,” she doesn’t look at you as she starts towards the front door.

You let go of Jean’s hand as you get up to walk your daughter out of your home. “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea today,” Jean tries to explain. “It’s been a very emotional day for us. I don’t know if Rachel is up for that.” 

Anna stops outside the door, “Sure she does!” You are confused when she smiles at Rachel. Anna used to be the kind of person that would initiate a conversation like this. You learned a lot from her on how to be present, question, and listen to your daughter's actions and words. You don’t understand why she is brushing off something like early signs of an eating disorder. “Don’t you want to see Gammy and Pop-pop?” You cringe at the way she is talking to your daughter with a baby voice. You wonder what’s going on with her. 

Rachel shakes her head and wipes her tears as she leans into your side. “No, I just want to go home,” she says in a small voice. 

Jean looks at Rachel and starts to comb her hair with her fingers then looks at Anna, “Babe, let’s just go home. I’ll call your mom and apologize to her myself.” 

“Fine. Yeah. Okay,” Anna mutters as she walks off. 

Jean sighs, things have been weird between them after they lost the baby. Anna wants a family of her own. She knew that you weren't going anywhere and that you are very involved in your daughter's life. But she thought that she would be able to have more than a third of a say in what happens in her family. She thought you would keep your life separate from her's and Jean's and at first when she realized that the two of you were still close she thought she could handle that. Now, she almost prefers it when the two of you are fighting. Jean senses a frustration and a shift from Anna and she has begun to fear that her marriage might be in jeopardy. 

After Rachel is gone, you sit in your apartment alone in silence for a moment. Letting go of the tension in your body. This was an emotional weekend. It started off pretty light then plummeted from there. You need some relief. Your first thought is Wanda because you’re not sure if she should be alone today. But you decide against the idea. You can’t be there for her like a partner would and that’s exactly what it would feel like. If she wants to hang out, she will call you. Next, you think about dialing Darcy up to hang out and when you can't think of a reason not to, she declines your invitation. She is supervising the team that is packing up her belongings. You can’t believe that it’s almost been three months since she told you she was leaving. 

You haven't had a one on one with Steve since you found out about his relationship with your coworker. You've hardly even spoken to Bucky, who you've seen every day since. Neither knows that you're aware of their relationship. They think you're still upset over Steve's bad attempt at a joke. You're not against them being together but it's just weird for you. 

You knew Peggy and you liked her enough for your friend. For some time you thought her and Steve would get married and start a family. You feel somewhat responsible for breaking them up by introducing Steve to Bucky. Rationally, you are aware that you're not at fault. But you can't help the guilt. And you're not ready to face them about it. 

So you call the least complicated person in your life at the moment and invite her over. Nebula is more than happy to see you for a second time this weekend.

Chapter 20

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

[littlebugs]

saved - chapter one

azriel x reader series

warnings: she/her reader, a little language, short!reader, reader is the archeon's half sister (no race mentioned), fluffy ish, azriel ooc, sfw, not edited oops, azriel has a big wingspan, elain slander i'm sorry i have to rafs bloo notes: this was supposed to be a blurb but i just...spiraled. first time posting a series here BE NICE. also i kind of imagine this charcater with a evie vibe hence the gif (: description: you're half fae, living life on the borders of various courts after your half siblings got dunked in the cauldron. set after acowar, feyre has invited her half-sibling to Velaris to reunite the family. but what happens after a certain shadowsinger takes interest in you?

The night air in Velaris holds a mystic chill as you ascend the multitude of steps leading to Rhysand's townhouse. More like a deathly chill,  as you’re not dressed for a trek up the small mountain stationed at what seems to be the highest point of Velaris. Finally making it to the top, you keel over, cursing whatever god decided this what your life. 

 Despite the weariness, a sense of anticipation lingers, excitement almost. Or maybe you’re catching frostbite and becoming delusional. After a few minutes, you finally reach the top, swearing and actually panting.  Before you can gather the energy to knock on the door, it swings open, leaving you surprised. 

A tall figure stands in the doorway, the glow of lights inside outlining his broad shoulders. His features, sharp and captivating, come into focus. The eyes, a shade of violet that sparkled with mischief, locked onto yours. Is he tryna rizz me up or- 

The tall figure extends a hand, his handsome face framed by windswept hair. "You look like you've just climbed a mountain. Welcome. I'm Rhysand." The sarcasm in his voice is undeniable, but you refrain from sneering. Ripping your eyes away from the High Lord, you notice two more figures emerging from behind him. One, with an easygoing grin and tousled hair, winks at you. The other, with piercing hazel eyes that observe with a quiet intensity, makes no move. They’re all very hot.

Rhysand vaguely gestures toward them, "This is Cassian, and Azriel."

Cassian, the one with the easy grin, greets you warmly, and you smile back. Azriel's gaze lingeres, still not making any moves, but stepping aside to allow you to enter. Finally out of this cold ass bit- You hear Rhysand snicker behind you, laughing at an unheard joke. Or maybe you’re the joke. It’s hard to tell. 

Only seconds after crossing the threshold, a joyous commotion erupts from deep within the townhouse. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain, a hurricane of brown hair and laughter, rush towards you. Feyre, her vibrant blue-gray eyes lit with happiness, embraces you first. "You made it!" Her hug crushes you, and you swear you hear a rib snap. 

Nesta, looking bored, adds, "It's been too long." But you swear you can see a hint of a smile on her lips as she hugs you alongside Feyre. And finally, Elain, looking sort of sickly but better than when she was human, joins the embrace. "I’ve missed you" she says softly, her arms wrapping around you. 

The reunion unfolds with laughter and hugs, your sisters laughing and examining you, everything from your hair, to your shoes, and kind of scandalous outfit which Elain pales at. 

After they finally get tired of you (you swear a singular tear escaped Nesta’s eye.) Feyre guides you into a sitting room, which is charming and cozy at the same time. Taking a seat on a couch, you find yourself flanked by Feyre and a blonde headed fae, smiling almost too widely at you.

As soon as you turn to look at her, she starts talking. Very fast. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Feyre has told us so much about you!"

You stammer, shocked by her swiftness “Oh, uhm I-”

Rescuing you from introduction, Elain chimes in, from the couch. "This is Mor, Rhys's cousin, and that's Amren, who's…yeah," her face strains at the mention of Amren, as she gestures to a woman sulking in a corner, who looks at you with nothing but disdain in those oddly shiny eyes. Almost.. silver? You quickly look away, trying to avoid her gaze.

As you settle into the space, the blonde, Mor, starts yammering on about some sort of dress. You listen intnetly, until your sister's mate enters the room. 

Rhysand, (The most delightful, cunning, handsome High Lord, as Feyre has told you,) takes the seat across from you, his two friends joining him. Almost out of earshot, he quietly leans toward Azriel. "What's going on, Az? You're acting strange."

Azriel, the one who has not said a word to you since you’ve arrived, remains silent, his focus elsewhere. He’s actually very….attractive. Like a greek god, like you would just let him throw you across the room and- 

Rhys snorts, distracting you from your train of thought. Almost like he heard what you were thinking. Oh. The blonde on your left quickly distracts you, laughing loudly, as the Cassian lad rants about the quickest way to behead someone, which is just..swell. And all the meanwhile Rhys and Feyre stare at each other giggling. Feyre opens her mouth in shock and Rhys nods, gesturing to you, engaged in silent conversation

Raising your arms up in silent defeat, you get up and walk to what seems to be a kitchen. With no food. Which is just-  You nearly jump as Azriel basically appears out of nowhere. He shoots you a seemingly uncharacteristic smile as he observes your bemused expression.

"Curious about the kitchen, aren't you?" Azriel's voice, deep and resonant, carries warmth. Very at odds at how he looked at you like you were some sort of demon  five minutes ago. 

You nod, very confused with the switch up, and lack of any food, while drinking in his appearance. His hair, dark and tousled, frames a face chiseled with handsome features. Hazel eyes, deep and mysterious, hold intensity that make you never want to look away. Why he kinda…  Feyre and Rhysand start laughing again, and you feel yourself getting flustered.

"Is there something I'm missing?" You ask, gesturing to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Azriel leans against the counter, looking oddly casual. He crosses his muscular arms across his chest in a way that makes you shiver, and continues "In this house, you don't find the food. You just..think of it."

Confusion lifts from your face as Azriel just…thinks. In an instant, the kitchen responds. A tall glass of water appearing in front of him automatically, as if the room itself is eager to please.

You can't help but marvel, "That's incredible." You look at him, but to meet his eyes you have to physically tilt your head, and as he loos down at you, the height difference is obvious.

With a stretches flex of his arms, his impressive wings unfold gracefully, each membrane extending with a mesmerizing precision. As the Illyrian basically flexes, the intricate webbing catches the light, with wings that are far bigger than the ones you saw on Rhysand at the door.

From the living room, a conversation commences "What is Azriel doing?" Cassian whispers, smirking slightly. Rhysand, clueless himself, raises an eyebrow. 

As you borderline gape, you catch Elain's gaze intensifying, frustration apparent in her expression. You can only wonder, why as Cassian blurts out from the other room "Well, someone's feeling extra dramatic today."

You look over to Rhysand, leaning back with a sly smile adding, "I didn't know our shadowsinger had a flair for the theatrical."

Azriel, with a casual shrug, replies, "Just felt like stretching my wings a bit."

Breaking the heavy silence that fell over the group, Mor finally breaks into laughter. "Well, well, Az. I never thought I'd see the day. What's next, a dance number?"

The group laughs, but seeing Elain’s pointed stare, you make your way back to the sitting room, leaving the Illyrian in the kitchen, unbeknownst to you, disappointed. 

______________________

As the night deepens, members of the once noisy dinner party leave one by one, leaving the town home quieter than it was. With only the three Illyrians and the blonde (whose name you keep forgetting) you head towards the stairs, bidding them good night. 

Your ascent to the second floor brings you to an opened door at the end of the hallway adorned with what you expect are Night Court aesthetics – moonlit tapestries, celestial motifs, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. You breathe in, and slowly sit down on your bed, trying to get the hazel eyes and mysterious shadows out of your head.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Azriel stands abruptly, and not so discreetly follows you upstairs. Cassian and Rhysand, left in the living room, exchange bemused glances

Rhysand, eyebrows raised in silent query, looks to Cassian for an explanation. Cassian, shrugging with an amused grin, whispers, "Beats me. Maybe our shadowsinger has a sudden interest in beauty rest."

Intrigued and sensing unspoken mystery, Rhysand and Cassian exchange conspiratorial glances. With shared nods, they decide to venture upstairs, their footsteps quiet as shadows against the Night Court's nocturnal melody.

Back in your room, you find comfort in the surroundings of your room. Moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow on the elegant furnishings. Deciding to settle in for the night, you slip into a set of…you could barely call them pajamas, more like scraps of silk, and stretch your arms, sighing faintly. 

A soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. You secretly hope for a certain shadowsinger as you trudge towards the door. Opening it, you silently rejoice to the cauldron as Azriel stands there, his typical shadowed demeanor now softened by an unusual glint in his eyes.

"Mind if I come in?" he asks, breaking the silence.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

What Should Be - Part 4 (Batman)

Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?

Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)

Word Count: 1,036

Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries

Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  | Part 5 | Epilogue

Masterlist

You didn’t sleep again, but you weren’t about to let Jesse find out. After you had found the will to stand, you went to bed and laid on your back staring up at the ceiling until dawn broke. You waited for your partner to get up, vaguely wondering why the alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

What day is it?

A cell phone rang on Jesse’s side of the bed. They groaned and answered it. You shut your eyes and pretended to sleep. They kept their voice low to not wake you, but you knew what was being said. It was a Saturday and they were being called into work on some emergency. Well, at least it was less of a chance for them to find you out.

They hung up, rolling over to nudge you. “Hey, babe. Wake up.”

“Mmmm,” you feigned drowsiness.

They huffed amusedly. “I have to go into the office today. Are you okay taking Torri to his friend’s party today?”

You frowned internally. You didn’t remember any party today.

Peeling your eyes open, you breathed, “Yeah… What time, again?”

“One. At Amusement Mile.”

“Heh?” You shot up. “Why there? That’s where—”

Jesse leaned in and pulled you to them into an awkward embrace. “Where, what? That’s where kids have parties and fun? You act like its a criminal hangout.” They laughed when you scrunched your nose. “You’ve got to be joking. Babe, it’s just an amusement park. It’s been around for years. It’ll be great!”

You just nodded. They kissed your temple and left to get ready for work.

Later that day, you got Torrence ready to go and in the car. The drive was fairly quiet, only hearing the road noise and your son playing with a toy in the back seat. He was the one to break the silence.

“Do you think Adrian will like the gift we picked?”

“Of course, she will,” you smiled, glancing into the rear view mirror. “Why wouldn’t she?”

He bounced his heels on the back seat. His bottom lip puckered out in thought. “I mean… She likes Batman… A lot. But she has a lot already.”

“Bat…man?”

Torrence gasped, “You don’t remember Batman?”

He immediately went into describe him, hands going up to show the pointed ears on the cowl, but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears deafened with a loud ringing. You looked up in the rear view mirror and saw him. Batman, still battered, was sitting in the back seat. And he was staring right at you. You turned your body to face him. Nothing was there. Just your son who froze, hands in the air, with a look of terror on his face.

A horn honked angrily. Twisting back, a car going the opposite lane was in your lane. Or rather, you were in theirs. You wrenched the steering wheel to the side, veering away from the car and off the road.

You slinked through the shadows of the warehouses along the wharf. Graffiti littered the building exteriors.You could not afford to be caught by one of the gangs who called this home or what you were hunting.

Maybe you should have told one of the vigilantes you were going to be here or tried to get one to come with you. No. That wouldn’t have worked. They would have never let you leave your apartment if you said anything. They were definitely products of the Bat. You shook your head as you rounded the corner.

There it was. You saw an old ship repair building up ahead. It was the one you had found on one of Gotham’s older maps. Newer ones didn’t include it. The gangs didn’t go near the shabby former business. It was the only one not covered with grotesque spray-painted words and symbols. You made your way inside through a window void of glass.

Much to your dismay, you had to use a flashlight to see anything. The smog was too heavy a filter to let any natural light the moon may have provided. You hoped this didn’t alert your prey. Unsheathing your silver blade in your unoccupied hand, you used it to steady the flashlight beam.

Everything seemed untouched, layers of dirt and sand on the equipment and a constellation of dust in the air. That is… Until you reached the highest floor.

Abandoned boxes of office furniture had been shuffled about. They had left a clear trail across the wooden flooring so desperately in need of sweeping. Rusted gurneys laid strewn about while chains swayed from the ceiling. Your thigh pulsed in time with the chains. It was here. You needed to get to Batman quick. But where was he?

You stuck to the walls, keeping your back against them. A set of double doors settled just down a nearby hall. Your throat constricted. The hairs on your arms stood on end. This was a terrible idea. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you began your power walk down the hall. When you reached the doors, you stopped. No ambush… Yet.

You tried to peer through the glass panels, but the grime and dirt only blockaded your flashlight’s beam. You nudged one of the doors. No squeaks from the hinges. Steeling yourself, you slowly pushed the door open, ready for the old metal to whine. It never happened. You slid past the threshold, gently letting the door fall closed.

There he was.

His gadgets and most of his armor had been strewn about the room. For his sake, his cowl remained on him. Batman was chained, beaten, his suit ripped and torn. A butterfly needle was stuck to his leg, blood slowly drifting through the connected tube and into a sealed container. He was left to dangle from ceiling… In the middle of the room. Cold sweat beaded along your forehead.

Bait.

Yes. You were 100% regretting your decision to come alone.

You pressed yourself against the wall and sidling along in hopes of not being caught off guard. Not that it mattered much. A hand shot out from the shadowy corner you were closing in on, latching onto your throat, touching what little bare skin was available. And you fell into darkness.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Songs and musings in the Key of Peña-Rockford

(Those gun holsters have me all fucked up. Seriously.)

I warned y'all about how obsessive my hyperfocus can get, right? Damn ADHD. The choke hold (all the puns intended) that this fic idea has on me is unreal, haha. But all of your comments and encouragements about this Rockford Pena WIP are making me so happy and relieving some of the stress I feel about writing it - thank you! I don't have another snippet to share just yet (so I hope this post isn't too much of a cock tease), but since I always love to read about character thots and writing processes (e.g. the extra posts by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings about her Destiny & Deliverance series, and @gracieispunk with her White Lotus posts), I figured I'd post a little update with some musings and songs I'm associating with this fic.

My Spotify currently is curated by @sin-djarin, who somehow knew just the right songs that relate to this WIP. Particularly these three tracks are on constant repeat. Going back and forth with her about little things that come up, or question ‘why this and not’ has been so much fun really. It makes me giddy because it turns the fic into something collaborative rather than just something from the inside of my brain, you know?

Whisper - Morphine

I included this track the other day already with the WIP snippet; it’s sexy and slow and that bass line really gets to me, then the saxophone ups it even more. @sin-djarin sent me several Morphine songs (I have to admit that somehow I wasn’t familiar with them) but this one stands out. The push and pull that’s happening in the lyrics is also delicious, and a lot of it feels like it’s coming from Rockford’s POV about Javi - that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

A Perfect Twist - Mike Patton

This song has an exuberant, rather bombastic vibe to it that I would’ve never associated with anything related to Peña. Although, those lyrics... they are definitely about brat taming.

I'll bend you over my knee Let's see what you can take You're never gonna break

And I'll squeeze that noose a little tighter Breathing like a snake How much can you take? You're never gonna break

And I'll turn those screws a little tighter You can hardly wait You're never gonna break

Just one more twist of the pliers Got you on the brink How much can you take? You're never gonna break

There’s something about the dizzying tune and pace that somehow evokes the noir-like Rockford vibes in the Merge Mansion clips, laced with liquor and cigarette smoke and things spinning kinda out of control.

Wait who said Masquerade Mansion? 🎭

In relation to these two?

Shhhh let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Keep your eyes wide shut. 🎭

Broad Daylight - Gabriel Rios

This is the only song that suddenly came to me re: this fic, and I was all… the fuck is this. I like the song, it's catchy, but it just didn’t make any sense to me with regard to Javi and Tim. The only thing I could think of in relation to the track was maybe a vague reference of Peña getting caught up with Los Pepes, things that were done in the dark and shouldn't come out in the daylight:

Back in the old days, tight like a fight Used to hang with the devil in the broad daylight

But still, it puzzled me. I think something in one of the Morphine songs musically led me to Broad Daylight, weird as that may sound. After way too many replays of that song (and @sin-djarin joking about 'what are those Polaroids Tim has on Javi?', since the song mentions polaroids), the relevance of the song finally clicked with me;

Look at you shaking you can't find his plight Got you scared of ghosts in the dead of night While you're making up stories trying to make it ok He'll be bringing them in to let them out and play In the broad daylight

We'll see how it goes from there.

At some point, there's also going to be a bit of Marcus Pike in the fic (pancakes!). I have to be honest - I don’t really read a lot of Marcus!fic, so I’ve been trying to figure out how he fits in and some of his character traits etc. But the wonderful @secretelephanttattoo was very quick to offer me some insights about Marcus that I needed! Go read it here.

TBH, I had absolutely not planned to write anything about Peña any time soon, because why I love him in canon and in the many fics I've read, I didn't exactly feel like I had a good enough handle on writing something about him that has some plot rather than just fucking. But then this fic idea popped up. If there's anyone who knows him really well, it's @goodwithcheese (you'd better be reading her incredible new story Paranoid Heart about Javi!). So I dropped some questions and fortunately she was totally up for some character chat right here, which is really helping me figure out some things. Thank you babe, and I hope more people will contribute thots to your 1K Celebration Confessional about their sins!

Also, I've been trying to put a time and place to the fic, but I've decided to not get too hung up about that because it's really not literature but Fic/Porn With Plot. It doesn't all have to make sense. But in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards this taking place in the US in recent enough times that smartphones are a thing.

Age wise, I'm seeing Tim Rockford as being 48/50 years old probably. Javier is about 40, 41 years old - just to give you an idea of 'which Javi' I'm looking at, I've got a sense of him as he is in Narcos S2 around episode 4-9, after Carillo is murdered, and Berna takes him to see Judy Moncada.

Reader insert (I know, I haven't spoken a lot about her yet!) is probably about 40 years old too. And finally, Marcus Pike is give r take about 37 years old, which corresponds with his Mentalist appearance.

BTW, I came across an edit that had all of the Tim Rockford bits from the ads without the additional stuff. A whopping total of 48 seconds. Man, I hope that Pedro is aware of how fucked up he has us about Rockford with less than a minute of his acting. Even my wife said 'I would totally watch a show or movie based on this character' when I played the Merge Mansion ads for her.

Finally, here's a video of Pedro talking about "real fantasy fullfillment in terms of getting to immerse yourself in an experience" and how he "loves being a detective, that's fantasy fullfilment for me" re: the Merge Mansion event day.

*hits replay*

Say 'fantasy fullfillment' one more time? Respectfully.

Like I said, I hope he knows how fucked up he has us all about Rockford. I sure am glad he did these ads and whatever he got paid, it sure wasn't enough.

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

Updated tag list (comment if you want to be added, or if I added you by accident!) based on folks who commented/reblogged on the prev posts:

@sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @txlady37 @rebel-held @alwaysmicado @heareball @clawdee @covetyou @bellsbluebrd @alltheglitterandtheroar @axshadows @casa-boiardi @bastardmandennis @stealyourblorbos @chronically-ghosted @katw474 @beabliss @nerdieforpedro

I don't know why some usernames don't seem to link when I try to tag them, btw. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this?

[clowningaroundmars]

damnit i thought about Separated At Birth morales twins too hard and now i went and wrote this whole thing about it 😔

pls forgive me.

but also. uh. enjoy lol

- normie au (no powers)

- milo is aaron's adopted child, and he lives with aaron and his gf in their apartment. aaron didn't adopt milo with her tho, milo's actual adopted mom died when he was young unfortunately

- miles is still rio and jeff's son and neither boys know their bio parents. jeff and rio know a bit tho (they still have the adoption agency papers but havent looked thru them in a while). aaron lost the papers and info in a house fire

- jeff and aaron are not brothers in this au. i... havent decided whose last name is whose but yeah

- aaron does sketchy stuff to provide for milo, he does. milo doesn't get involved whatsoever tho, aaron's p overprotective in like a chill way and would never endanger his kid like that. milo doesn't even really know the details. he just knows his dad stays out late working often, and then when he comes home he brings enough moolah back to buy his son an expensive silver wristwatch :)

- the twins do not know that the other exists. like at all. they've always felt like there was smthn missing in their lives tho... like an incomplete puzzle waiting to be finished

- the parents... know? that their kid has a sibling somewhere out there? but the details were left vague when they finally picked up their child and they all kinda assumed the other was just like lost to the World Out There. aaron most def did not concern himself with trying to look for the other child, one was plenty enough for him lol

- the twins discover each other when miles wins the lottery to study at visions and milo is just enrolled str8 up (thank you aaron's money!) but they dont even find each other for the first time at their school. they actually see each other in the windows of passing trains that they're taking in nyc one random day. its a weird dream-like moment for both of them

- milo, once he gets home: hey aaron do i uh have a secret twin somewhere out there or what (half-joking) (but not really) (ahaha) (👁)

- THEN they find out they're both enrolled in visions academy. milo was already p well adjusted by the end of the 1st day but became curious abt this weird nerdy kid everyone seemed to avoid anyhow. when he found out it was the kid with his face at the train station, they both flip out in the hallways!

- (insert spiderman x2 pointing at each other meme here)

they circle each other a couple of times like dogs meeting in a park, sizing each other up with squinted eyes and knitted brows. miles' mouth was hanging open.

after a bit, they stopped and met eyes, green against brown.

"you... you have got to be kiddin' me," miles breathed. "you look exactly like me!"

milo's eyes are still roaming, pupils bouncing around and scrutinizing his mirror-self standing right in front of him.

after a beat, he spoke slowly, sounding like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "... yeah. yeah, that is weird. you're like me, huh."

miles sucked in a breath. "i-i mean yeah? i guess?"

the bell rang suddenly, cutting the hazy dream-like atmosphere in half like a knife. the boys startled.

"gimme your number," milo demanded quickly, stepping to prop himself up against a wall and move out of the way of the incoming crowd.

miles swallowed and dug around into his pocket hastily, fumbling his phone a bit as he pulled it out.

milo laughed, and it was-- so weird!-- to hear miles' own laugh coming out of another boy that sounded quite a bit like him to begin with. is this what the uncanny valley felt like?

"what?" miles balked self-consciously, swiping over to his contact info.

"you don't already have your own number memorized, dawg?" milo says this with all the confidence in the world, a simple crooked grin and tilt of his head just overflowing with self-assuredness. as if his own self worth really came from within.

miles bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the feeling of envy bubbling up into his lungs. "uhhh, no? i literally just got a phone plan like, yesterday." it was hard to keep the judgemental tone out of his voice when he already felt like he had to be on the defensive.

milo's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"oh," was all he said.

"oh?"

"lemme just give you mine," milo steps closer, eyes constantly roaming and watching the students currently walking around them, like river water being parted by a big stone in the middle of roaring rapids.

he shot off a series of numbers and miles dutifully plugged it into his contacts list. the second that miles tried to save it was when he realized: shit, he did not know this mystery boy's name!

"oh, h-hey, i didn't get your n--" but once he looked up, the kid had already disappeared into a passing wave of students rushing to get to their next classes before the bell rang again.

miles blinked, looking back down at his screen. the phone number that was punched in was the only solid proof that this mysterious interaction even happened at all.

my god. this wasn't a dream...

miles hastily tapped in "twin???" for the contact name and hit "save".

- ganke is the first to hear abt miles having a long-lost sibling, and he gets his ear talked off abt the possibility of that sibling being an identical TWIN!!!!

- milo does not dorm up at visions. miles suggests they move in together the next year but milo's slightly spoiled ass is not very excited abt sleeping in a room the size of his closet. plus, he hates bunk beds

- aaron's kinda loaded so milo's always got the hookup. he always has the flyest fits, latest shoes and coolest equipment. miles is highkey p jealous when he finds out. milo is... actually not very spoiled despite all of this tho! probs bc he's always training in mma, and aaron drills the importance of self-reliance into him often

- aaron and jeff do not like each other At All. for the kids' sakes, jeff doesnt mention that he's actually slapped cuffs on aaron for a small offense before, but yeah. they have beef. aaron is already anti-cop anyways-- probs sitting at a 9 out of 10 on the hater meter-- but after meeting jeff, he's bumped that up to a cool 15

- the twins meeting: YOU!! 😲😳🤯😄

the Dads meeting: YOU. 😠😠😠

- kid swaps are always just the twins going: YEAAAH!! SLEEPOVER!!! :D

meanwhile

jeff: aaron.

aaron: officer davis.

*forced smiles and tense eye contact as they visibly seethe while the twins chatter happily in the bg*

- milo and miles live almost opposite lives, and they're very different. but where they truly connect is with COMICS!! and other assorted nerdy stuff. they watch anime together and swap comics n manga regularly. eventually, miles gets invited along to go to comic con with milo and aaron

- milo usually keeps a cool and collected front around ppl (just like his dad!) but he is most def himself with miles. he devolves into goofy silly shenanigans when they link up

- miles meeting aaron: 🤩 wow milo your dad is so COOOOL!

milo meeting jeff: wow miles. 😬 your dad is a cop. hm.

- jeff and milo eventually learn to get along but milo feels weird abt jeff being not only a cop but also making captain soon since he's been raised on lupe fiasco, NWA and KRS one songs since infancy. milo's household is #ACAB or bust lol

- they both bring up random injuries they had in their lives and try testing the "twin connection" theory. milo randomly hurts himself to see if miles will bring it up (like purposefully giving himself a papercut or smthn). they both p much develop a spider-sense for when their twin gets in trouble too

milo suddenly perks up at the dinner table, homework sheets spread out before him in every direction. he's trying to solve a problem using an equation of motion when he gasps and sits straight up, nearly dropping his pencil.

aaron is still prepping dinner at the counter not 5 feet away. he glances at his son curiously.

"dad," milo says with all the seriousness of a supreme court judge, "miles might be in trouble."

"... huh?" aaron's brow is raised.

not a second later, aaron's cell phone is buzzing where it's propped up on the microwave, pausing the music that was playing on a nearby bluetooth speaker.

MILES flashed across the screen.

aaron wiped his hands on a kitchen rag, gave his son another sidelong glance, and hit "answer".

"u-ugh. aaron?"

this was strange. miles never called him, they usually just exchange quick and courteous texts whenever it was necessary, but never more than that. aaron joked it was a "youngblood" thing, kids these days could never just make a quick and easy phone call.

so he knew it had to be serious if miles was even bothering to not only put in a call, but put in a call to him.

"miles? wassup?" aaron replied, grimacing at the strained tone and small gasps coming in on the other end.

"u-uhm..." miles stalled.

"kid," aaron started, as serious as a heart attack, "is something wrong? you sound like you're hurt."

behind him, milo stands up quickly, homework completely forgotten about.

"... y-you have to promise not to tell my parents first, heh. they'd probably-- ngh-- a ha! they'd probably kill us both if you did."

geez. even when he sounds like he's hurt, miles still manages to get a quip out as casually as he can manage.

aaron is moving towards the coat rack now, and milo's already went ahead to his room to put his shoes on without another word.

aaron's answer is careful. "... we'll talk about that when we get to you. where ya at?"

miles sucks in a breath that hisses through his teeth and from the background aaron thinks he can hear dogs barking in the distance.

"okay, so don't freak out but i might be like... near an abandoned building. i-i think they used to be apartments..."

aaron mentally projects a map of the brooklyn-manhattan area that he knows in his head as he switches to speakerphone. but nothing really comes to mind as he racks his brain for any abandoned apartments that he knew of.

"just send me your location, kid. we'll be there in no time."

miles chuckles gratefully. "th-thanks, aaron..."

- milo and miles are actually p jealous of each other, even tho they'd never admit it out loud (altho miles is awful at hiding his envy lol)

milo is jealous of miles' parents, and how involved and loving they are. not that aaron isn't involved in milo's life, but it's just that his work often gets in the way of actually spending quality time with his son as often, so milo is left alone a lot. they also moved around a lot as well, so he didn't get the chance to become as popular and well-loved on his block like miles did. he doesn't have very many friends.

miles is jealous of milo's freedom and independence, and his seemingly dazzling life. he gets that milo can be p lonely and introverted at times, but he'd kill just to spend a day in his twin's expensive shoes! if only his well-meaning but annoying parents would just hop off his ass about things, maybe then he'd be able to just... spread his wings and fly

- rio and jeff suggest a DNA test to see if milo and miles really are brothers. they scoff at the idea at first ("i mean c'mon, we literally have the same face," milo points out.) but aaron agrees. better to be safe and 100% sure than to have even a hint of a doubt, plus it would be great to have physical proof that they were indeed twins after all.

so they took the test and waited nervously for the results. miles lamented the possibility of them not really actually being the long-lost-sibling they both had. milo would try to reassure him anyways; even if they weren't biologically related, they could just lie and say they were since they looked so similar anyways.

but they got their results in the mail and it was confirmed: they were 100% related!! miles cried. milo cheered with joy and they immediately facetimed each other.

when miles accepted milo's facetime call, his entire screen was suddenly taken up by milo's grinning face unnervingly close to the camera.

laughing and wiping his tears, miles propped his phone up on his desk. "man, you're being weird. back up!"

"oh, am i? am i being weird, bro? brother of mine? brother dearest? broski? boy who is genetically related to me?"

"ahaha! man, quit it. anyways, yeah i got my results too obviously. milo, when i tell you i ran so damn fast after going to the store-- i never ran back home that fast in my life."

"'cause i texted you, right?! your welcoooome!" milo practically hollered right into the phone.

"chill, chill, chill." miles rolled his eyes, still sniffling a bit but grinning just as wide.

sounds of items being pushed off of milo's own drafting table filled the background, and all miles could see for a second was the logo on his brother's hoodie before the camera was finally positioned correctly.

"... okay. okay, hopefully it doesn't fall. okay, cool. so!"

milo then bounces up from his chair and shoots off to go somewhere off-camera. miles can hear papers rummaging for a second before his excitable brother comes and throws himself back on his chair again.

"so, let's read this damn thing together 'cause this is just-- hold up." milo pauses, putting the letter down and squinting at his screen. "are you... were you crying?"

miles sits straight up, hastily swiping at his face. "uh! maybe? so what about it?"

milo laughs, throwing his head back. "aaron!!" he yells, at the top of his lungs.

miles cringes. "bro! what the hell!!" he shouts back.

"miles cried!! he's cryin' just like i said he would! you owe me 30 bucks!" then, milo turns back to his phone, smirking. "anyways!"

miles is shaking his head. "y'all are placing bets on me now? that is foul."

"ahhh well. y'know! nothing against you or anything, nothing personal!" milo has a cheesy, apologetic grin plastered on his face, and then he suddenly gets serious.

"but anyways, miles. c'mon, we gotta read it together, it makes it more real."

"what is this, a whole ritual you had planned or somethin'?"

"dude, humor me. this is a big deal!"

miles bobs his head and laughs. "yes. okay! fine, you start. you can read one paragraph and then i'll do the next,"

and together, they read off the results again, placing emphasis on the final result: a 99.995% likelihood of a full sibling relationship!

"99.995% yooooo!!" milo crowed, pumping a fist in the air.

"so yeah, that's all she wrote," miles sighed contentedly, folding up his piece of paper. "mamí already said she's buying a frame for this so i'm putting this somewhere safe."

then, they sat there together and smiled at each other.

"you know what this means, right?" milo asked suddenly.

"... no. what?"

"we always talked about, like..." milo sighed and leaned back in his chair, screwing his face up in thought. "like. that feeling? y'know, like something or someone was missing in our lives, right?"

miles chuckled. "uhyup, like that one time when i was on a field trip years ago and i randomly reached to hold someone's hand but he wasn't there? before we got all partnered up, obviously."

"and that other time when aaron recorded me when i was like a damn toddler talkin' about 'i need another toy for my friend' at the store once. he insisted it was an imaginary friend that i made up just to get more stuff. but looking back now, i didn't have no imaginary friend... no, i was looking out for you back when i didn't know you even existed..."

"yeah. that's... that is pretty weird."

"well yeah, but now it's not. 'cause we were right. turns out we were right the whole time! and we got scientific proof to prove it!" milo jumped up and ran a quick victory lap around his room, throwing punches into the air as if he were taunting his opponent in the ring.

"ooh, now i see what you mean. these results mean the two pieces are finally put back together, like officially. no more weird empty feelings anymore..."

miles leans back in his own chair, fingers clasped together on his stomach as he thought back to all those times where that strange, tugging feeling kept cropping up in small moments of his life. on field trips, on the playground, at school, on daytime trips with his parents.

and then he thought back to how that aching feeling just vanished after meeting milo. in all of the excitement of meeting a long-lost twin, he didn't even really notice how that longing simply just... went away. he couldn't even remember the last time he felt that specific feeling now.

"exactly, exactly!" milo whooped, before crashing back down into his chair again and jostling his drafting table. his phone fell in the process and he cursed loudly when it clattered onto the floor.

"milo, cool it!" miles cackles, but he feels the same swooping triumphant joy filling his chest nonetheless.

[commandermeg]

I finished Trollhunters, and decided to write a crossover one shot fic for it with my main show: Star Trek Prodigy. Please note: I've only seen up to the end of Season 3 of Trollhunters. I have a vague idea of what lies ahead, but I'm not looking it up right now. So if everyone seems out of character, that's fine lol.

                Merlin Ambrosius watched in bewilderment as the spark of light flew upwards and away; its magic left a trail of vibrant sparks like a comet in the night sky. It would’ve been beautiful, honestly. Under normal circumstances, the amulet choosing its next warrior was a solemn and profound moment in troll culture.

                Under normal circumstances.

                However, Merlin was currently standing in line at the ACME market trying to pay for the groceries. The amulet shouldn’t be doing anything at that given moment.

                Its magic blasted the nearby power grid with energy. The reaction was volatile.

The fluorescent shop lights above flickered and sputtered, finally going dark with a deep sigh. The tills popped and sputtered to a complete stop, frustrating the employees. Annoyed patrons, their magic-less minds seemingly unaware of the amulet entirely, began cursing or muttering.

                Merlin set his basket on the counter and followed the amulet out of the shop. The cashier tried to wave him down as he broke into a sprint out the door.

                It didn’t go in any direction in particular.  

                It simply began floating upward at a leisurely pace.

                Bewildered, Merlin found himself staring at the tiny shape as it faded away into the blue. Sure, he could recall it at a moment’s notice. But why would he? This was very unusual, and he found unusual things very interesting.

                Eventually, the amulet was no longer in sight. The only thing above him was a clear, blue sky. As he stared above, he became aware of someone approaching him.

                “Sir, our power is back on if you want to pay for your things.” The cashier said

                “Ah, lovely.”

                He followed the cashier back inside as he formulated a plan.

                “So your saying it just… floated away?” Jim said, incredulously.

                “Yes. It went upward. I can still sense its magic faintly, but it’s farther away than anytime it’s ever been.”

                “Can you tell how far?” Claire asked, curiously.

                The ex-trollhunter and his wife were lounging on the long sofa that sat in the front parlor. They’d called a ‘family meeting’ of sorts after he’d shared the news – however most of the ‘family’ was still trying to get itself together to come downstairs. He could hear Tobias and his wife trying to wrestle their toddler out of bed.

               Merlin had simply walked into their home with the news. While not normally welcome, he figured it was important enough information to warrant a visit.

                He pressed his fingers to his temple. The amulet was even farther now, in the moments they’d been talking it’d moved at an incredible rate. As if there was no air friction at all. Nothing stopping it.

                “I’m not sure. It’s beyond the moon at this point from what I can gather.”

                Tobias finally stepped into the room.

                “Heh, maybe Aja is the next Trollhunter.” He joked.

                “I don’t think so, the amulet is heading in a different direction.”

                Merlin felt their eyes bore into him. He didn’t like the feeling. He remained where he stood, though, and watched as a few others joined them in the parlor. Darcy throwing herself onto the couch next to Jim and Claire, and Toby holding their toddler with one arm.

                “So what are we supposed to do then? Wait for it to come back? Are there even Trolls in outer space?” Jim said

                Merlin thought for a moment. He had a strong feeling he knew the answer but didn’t really like the feeling. It left an odd pit in his stomach.

                “Well, maybe there aren’t any trolls that pose such a threat to earth anymore. Perhaps that’s why the amulet believes it’s needed elsewhere.”

                Claire sighed and leaned into Jim.

                “No more earth-shattering threats, huh? That’s a huge relief.”

                Jim must have had the same feeling. He wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. His expression darkened a bit, and he turned to face Merlin.

                “I think he means –“ Jim started to say before he paused.

                “There are still threats, to be sure. They’re just… out there.” Merlin finished the sentence.

Stardate 25102.34 – 314 years later

                “Captain Ambrosius, those readings on the hot spring asteroid have been sent to the labs.”

                “Excellent. Good work, Commander.”

                Commander Larson left the ready room, the doors zipping shut behind him. Merlin sank into the cushy chair behind the table before twirling the seat around to gaze out the window. The vast, starry void gazed back at him.

                Surely, that amulet had to be out there somewhere.

                What threat could possibly be out there that warranted the amulet’s departure? Earth hadn’t exactly had the most peaceful couple of centuries in its absence.

                “Permission to enter?” a voice asked

                “Permission granted.”

                The ship’s doctor entered the ready room, her arms full of PADDS that she unceremoniously laid down on the table. Their screens flickered with many tiny lines of words that Merlin didn’t feel like reading at the moment – but would be required to eventually.

                “So, Mister-Captain, how goes the mystical quest for the amulet?”

                The woman’s smirk made Merlin scowl.

                “Shut up, Morgana.”

                She stuck out her tongue and cackled. It’d been a very, very long time since they’d fought. Yet, she insisted on pestering him into the distant future. She could be using her powers to help him find the amulet, but she insisted on using them to heal the various morons who worked on this ship.

                Tossing her blonde tresses over her shoulder, Morgana stood beside him and gazed out the window.

                “You know, I’m rather proud of them.”

                “What? Who?”

                “Them!” she waved her hand towards the door, towards the rest of the ship.

                Her hand had long since been replaced with a fancy, electronic model. It had more bits and bobs to it than Merlin could wrap his head around. It was an entire alchemy lab encased in a single wrist.

                “The humans really did a bang-up job, didn’t they.”

                “Yes, I suppose so.”

                “Quite smashing.”

                “Morgana, I plead you – why are you bothering me?”

                “I know where to find the amulet.”

                Stumbling back out of the chair, Merlin stood fully upright and glared into her eyes. Had she known this the whole time? It’d been centuries! How had she –

                Her green eyes rolled back into her head, and she held a hand, her good one.

                “We just need to find where the fighting is.”

                Glancing towards the pile of PADDS on the table, Merlin wondered if her work was finally getting to her head. She’d always been a few stones shy of a troll, but even this was getting weird by her standards.

                Wait, the PADDS. They were filled with articles on sunlight, skin sensitivity, and… realization suddenly washed over him, and he relaxed.

                “You mean, find what creatures are affected by sunlight-“

         “- and we’ll find the sword of daylight, yes.” Morgana finished his sentence.

                Sinking back into the chair, he rubbed his hand over his face. All of this work had better be worth it.

[safficranger]

Fake Scenarios In My Head #18

(Can be read as sequel to FS#13)

Their case has hit a wall; a neighbor of the perpetrator provided a last-minute alibi for him. Alex is convinced the neighbor is lying, but she can't prove it or understand why he would lie for someone he barely knows. For hours, she sits in her office with Olivia, papers strewn across the little coffee table, couch, and desk, combing through every piece of evidence, searching for the key to cracking the case.

Alex's assistant knocks on the open office door to get her attention. He wears a huge smile and hands her a small package with Alex's name neatly written on it in delicate handwriting. "The delivery guy just dropped this off for you."

She gets up from her desk, thankful to stretch her legs for a bit, and curiously takes the package from him. "Thanks, Andrew."

"Any progress with the witness?"

"No, not yet," Alex sighs. "Any other calls for me?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork, probably," Andrew chuckles. "Can I do anything else? Maybe get you a coffee?"

"That would be amazing. I could really use a break," Olivia interjects.

"Coming right up."

Olivia stands up, stretching her muscles and groaning in pain. "I'm too old for this," she jokes and Alex just laughs in response.

"So... what have you got there, Counselor? I assume it's not related to our case," Olivia asks, pointing to the package.

"I'm afraid this won't help," Alex replies, grinning as she obviously recognizes the handwriting.

"So, you don't want to open it?"

"Aren't you curious, Detective?" Alex laughs.

"To be honest, I am. Kind of comes with the job, you know," Olivia shrugs. "And I could really use some distraction here."

Alex nods in understanding. She unwraps the package, revealing an elegant black box with a brand name embossed in shiny silver. She runs her fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the letters with a barely hidden smile before carefully opening the lid. The inside is lined with black velvet, and a single beautiful flower blossom sits within, the brightly colored petals contrasting the velvet beautifully.

Olivia furrows her brows. "Flowers?"

"A Flower Detective. Singular," Alex quips. "A Strelitzia blossom to be exact."

"Stre... ok yeah... Still... a pretty unusual way to deliver a flower," Olivia remarks.

Alex shakes her head, smiling. "If it were only the flower, I would agree." With that, she lifts the flower, and Olivia spots a beautiful silver necklace nestled inside the velvet bed. The necklace is a cascade of silver spheres, gradually increasing and then decreasing in size, a delicate chain threaded through them to create a fluid cascading effect.

"Wow," she exclaims. "That's beautiful, Alex."

"It really is," Alex says quietly, her voice suddenly full of emotion as her eyes wander from the necklace back to the flower in her hand. Her fingers delicately trace the intricate design of the necklace, and she can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind the gift.

"Who sent it, Alex? Is there a card? Does the flower mean anything to you?" Olivia's curiosity is piqued, and she leans in closer, eager for details.

"Yes, the flower means something to me." She smiles lovingly, slowly twirling the flower between her fingers. "No need for a card. I know who sent it."

"Oh... okay," Olivia says, drawing out the words to give Alex the opportunity to elaborate, but she stays silent.

"So... do you want me to help you put it on?"

"Not now. I'll save it for a special occasion."

"Got something particular in mind? A hot date, maybe?" Olivia teases.

Alex places the flower back in the box and closes the lid with a grin. "Maybe..."

Olivia leans forward, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. "Alex, come on. Give me something to work with. Who's the mystery person? Is it someone I know?"

Alex chuckles, shaking her head. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“Do they by any chance drive a Mercedes?”

"Nice try, Detective," Alex replies, her tone light but firm, a small smile on her lips. “Can we please drop the subject now?” She leans back, crossing her arms, clearly not planning to give anything away. There's a playful glint in her eyes, showing she’s more amused than annoyed by Olivia’s questioning.

Olivia sighs dramatically, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. "Fine, keep your secrets. But don't think for a second I'm done with this.”

Before Alex can respond, Andrew returns, balancing a tray with three steaming cups of coffee. "Here you go, ladies. Freshly brewed and just what you need."

"Thanks, Andrew," Alex says, gratefully accepting her cup.

"You're a lifesaver," Olivia adds, taking a sip and closing her eyes in appreciation. "Perfect timing, too. I was just about to resort to interrogation tactics."

Andrew gives Alex a questioning look, but she just waves it off.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asks.

“No, we’re good for now, Andrew.”

As he leaves, Olivia gives Alex a knowing look. "This isn't over, Counselor. I'll be watching you."

Alex just laughs, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To mysteries and the detectives who love them."

Olivia clinks her cup against Alex's, grinning. "I'll drink to that."

Thank you @hg-mills for inspiration

[senka-mesecine]

This may sound sooo weird but could I request some predator/prey play with Barnes? Thank u!

WARPAINT.

Robert Barnes x Reader

-

-"Dusk's settling. It's time."-

You remark standing on the threshold of the house looking out into the woods as you shrugged into your jacket, zipping it up for warmth there to ward off the chill of the great outdoors. The agreement was made. Was a done deal. Bob's impaled you on a stare from inside the house like he was hellbent on giving on a quiet head start and wordlessly intending to make sure you take it; in fact, those were the agreed rules of the game. You go on right ahead, start walkin', he said, and I'll be right behind'ya, because if I go at it right now, you won't make it past the front porch. And you believed him. Truly. You did. There was simply something quietly fascinating, perhaps a little daunting and curious how seriously he took this whole thing. Like it was an actual insurgence or ambush and not two lovers deliberately toying with one another. Like it wasn't mere foreplay, for lack of a better word. -"I'll just go out there and start strolling, alright?"- You carefully explain and re-explain as if though you weren't over this a hundred times before --- the whole cat and mouse thing? Needed to seem natural and spontaneous. Like you were truly someone caught unaware instead of a person genuinely chased. At first anyway. That was the impression that was meant to be projected. It was just that Robert was so very stern and grim looking you had the odd impression he already started the game, at least inside of his own mind, all while you were still here assessing the rules and preparing for it, fidgeting with your zipper, awkwardly staring out into the bosom of the forest. A distant pheasant shrieks somewhere in the bush and the sound nearly makes you shiver. God.

-"And please, come and find me soon, Bobby. I can't stand the dark."-

You borderline plead, disguising it, perhaps, as a tiny, mild mannered little joke especially once you pepper in an endearment for good measure, stepping off the threshold and across the porch, still talking to the man who hasn't even made a single move outside the house, merely assessing you, back leaning against the wooden pillar holding up the ceiling, almost casual in his body language. Something about his eyes relaying what you could only translate as him saying 'Bet' before you ran out down the trail leading into the tree lot, house becoming smaller and smaller behind you.

---

-"Robert!?"-

You call out, approximately what you could only deduce as a full hour later. Your voice echoes into the abyss, but no response comes. You vaguely pondered if bringing a wristwatch with you would make everything better or worse, but it was a moot point. You particularly cursed yourself for not having a flashlight, but you supposed you were the vulnerable, hunted party to exuberant degrees as it were. Didn't need to worsen your chances as much as you actually wanted to be caught prematurely, so Bob could take you back to the warmth of home so you could call it a night. -"You there!?"- You try again, understanding that the game wouldn't have you giving away your position this blatantly, but thing was you assumed he'd show himself sooner. After all, he's promised. Maybe he's changed his mind and you're merely being teased. You wonder. No, no. That wasn't Bob. When he set his mind to something he went through with it. This wasn't meant to be, in your mind, a chase in the woods at dusk, but you stumbling around in the dark, borderline as blind as a bat, your only relief of light coming from the half moon above head, careful steps following the pale ribbons of light squeezed through the foliage of the trees as you watched you step, the occasional dry branch or twig cracking underneath your feet, alerting an unseen hooting owl in the distance. Must've been ten at night by now, according to your vague assessment. Somehow, the gravitas of the situation settles in like a rock around your neck; if it was so scary, why was your heart thumping fast? Excited? Catching your breath on a downward slope you lean against the trunk of a nearby pine tree, leaning your back against it and using it as a momentary rest and refuge from sight. Love did make you do stupid things; if someone told you'd be in forests of Tennessee playing hide and seek with someone, you'd snort in amusement. You embrace your arms around yourself, around your torso and the jacket on it, keeping your warmth intact, imagining the hands were his. A distant echo cuts through the silence. You stir, breath hitching, calming only once you realize there was a silhouette between the pines; grazing in the distance in the moonlight, causing your shoulders to drop in relief. A deer. Just a deer that didn't notice you.

Scared the crap out of you.

It was late. You move, deciding you had to at this point, either heading further into the woods or back, towards home, following back the trail leading towards the house and hoping to God you'll run into Robert somewhere along the way only for the soul to jump out of your body, on the steep top of the precipice where the three lot started to thin above you, he was right there against the moonlit sky. You'd recognize the outline of him anywhere and before you can think, you yell, unsure if you feel happy or terrified to see him. Maybe both. How long was he there, how long was he there, long was he there and how on earth did you not hear him, your mind races, feverishly, looking for questions that didn't have any momentary answer and you feel it reflect in the way your voice comes out shivering like a leaf. -"Bob!? Where were you? I was waiting for you!"- You words crack in your throat, echoing all around you, getting no response back. -"What are you doing!?"- You inquire; sheesh, what took him so long? You watch his silhouette shift from one leg to another, leaning his weight sideways. He was about to taunt; you knew that stance. You knew that body language. It's just that you couldn't predict what he was going to say next no matter how cognizant you were of his mannerisms.

-"Deer huntin'."- He drawls candidly, stepping forward and shit ---

If you run, you run on pure instinct.

Your legs simply take off from under you like they were operating with a mind and a will of their own, rushing through a maze of trees, bushes and branches, making decisions independently from your brain and the rest of your body, giving you no time to process anything but the primal survival instinct that told you to flee. Flee as far as you can. You loved him. You understood that. But every atom in your body carried you as fast as it could out of there to the degree you couldn't even stop yourself. Even if you wanted to. If someone stopped you there and then to ask you if this was still only foreplay or if you were truly running from Robert Barnes you were convinced you'd have no precise answer to give with a head full of white static and noise, hearing his footsteps behind you loud and clear and swearing that it couldn't be him; must've been the frantic beating of your own heart in your chest, in your head, in your ears. The Robert you knew was too quiet for this. A moment of distraction is all that it takes. The sleeve of your jacket gets harshly tangled into a sharp branch, and with a volatile tug, the material rips, taking the fabric of your shirt with it along with some of your skin. You're scratched. You're bleeding. But, you're still running. The tattered remains of your jacket remain hanging limply and in tatters from a nearby pinecone riddled bough. Shit, shit, shit --- the pain's intense, even with all the adrenaline pumping through your system.

-"Mhmm-hmm! Lettin'ya flag get captured, girl."-

You hear him from behind you gloating like he knew something you didn't, almost humming in contentment, and when your own frenzy briefly allows you to throw back a glance across your shoulder, Robert's there, standing some twenty odd feet behind you, the dark outline of him anyway, holding up the remains of your sleeve like they're a trophy. He either moved like the wind, soundless and as fast as a hurricane or you were much slower than all of this subjectively felt and your mind was playing tricks on you. He could've caught up to you right now, you concluded, but he didn't want to. He wanted to hunt. You envied that deer from earlier just now, grazing in the dewy forest grass. Envied and understood it. Wanted to be quite as lithe and fast it probably was and slip into the night, never to be found again. The only thing that slows you down is the burning sensation stemming from your scratch; the fact that the blood was trickling down your elbow and that you could feel it pooling in your coiled fist, dripping down into the foliage. You stumble back like a wounded domestic animal, forehead lined with cold sweat. You ain't got no fuel or air left in you. You breathe, loud and ragged and desperately fast only to find him there, leisurely striding in your direction down from the hill, inspecting a blood stained piece of cloth with pursed lips like the sight of it almost entertained him in ways you couldn't comprehend.

He dips his finger into the bloodstained material, maintaining eye contact.

Bringing it up to his face and drawing a straight crimson line across his cheek.

Slowly, almost leisurely, like he wasn't in a tremendous hurry whatsoever.

Then repeating the exact motion with the scarred side of his face.

It was makeshift warpaint.

Warpaint made out of your blood.

A trophy made out of your own sleeve tucked promptly into his belt.

-"Bob, you're scaring me."-

You gulp hard, you exposed bit of skin erupting in goosebumps as you were holding up your hands defensively, speaking as fast and as firmly as your hyperventilation and lack of breath allowed you, catching yourself flying. It was a bold faced lie and you knew it even as it was spoken. Or perhaps a half-lie at best. You weren't just scared. You were aching. You were aching to stop running, walk towards him, give yourself up and let him do whatever he wanted with you here and now and be wholly content doing so, which was mad. It was insane. He was the most horrifying sight you've ever seen so to want this meant that, the way Robert himself would put it, you've gone dinky dau. Totally unhinged. You wanted to escape and never return here again just a second ago. Now you wanted him to fuck you. Were was the logic in any of this? God forbid some trekkers, mountaineers or hunters come this way and spot this scene; they'd think you're both unhinged or that you're about to be murdered. -"Hell's bells, so run, then, if'ya so scared."- He shoots back and judging by the harshness of his voice you felt like he was giving you an order and disbelieving you at the same time. It's like your mind's been read; he knew how turned on you were right now and how guilty you felt about not feeling guilty about it. -"You're talkin' the talk and not walkin' the walk, darlin'."- And there it is; he's taunting you again, stepping forward soundlessly, hit by a ray of moonlight, faced adorned with your own blood. He was right. You could've started running again by now, instead, you were here listening to his soliloquy, mesmerized. -"I'd reckon,"- He begins. -"y 'thought it'll be all fun an' games out'ere and the fact that it ain' made'ya feel alive."- There it is; hitting the nail right on its head, as always. At that point, you feel your thighs practically pulsate with need, your lurching guts tying themselves into a million tiny knots. -"And you want me for all my horrible self."- He tilts his head smugly. You were like a deer in the headlights. Just bleeding and not even being able to deny what he was saying. You were prey wanting to get caught. -"You ain' 'fraid of the dark neither. You thrive in this shit."- He takes your very own words, reformulating them and so deep is his influence that only once he tells you, and you know the words are coming, do you actually start sprinting again.

God, what did he do to you?

He was in charge of your very soul. You were literally obeying commands.

Robert wasn't hunting wild, untamed big game tonight.

He was hunting his domesticated, well-trained house pet he personally set loose.

-"Go on. Run, bun. I know y'love me."-

He quips with a hard, raspy baritone that shakes the forest and you attempt to run finding yourself clumsily stumbling about instead through the bushes, practically sobbing up; exhausted, hurt, burned out, you practically hear yourself whimper with every move. He catches you. Does so effortlessly. Could have done so ten times by now, but the fact he does it now when you're weakest sends a little wail past your quivering lip. -"No!"- You sniffle as his hand halts you in your tracks mid-movement practically having your whole body haul itself back like you were lighter to him than a feather, his index finger and thumb holding you right above your bleeding scratch; you hiss instinctively, captured. The last feeling in the long list of sensations you needed now was pain.

-"Oh, god, please."-

You moan, begging as he lifts the arm he had his vice grip around up, poking the wound with an index finger, almost as if inspecting it, or perhaps intending to cause you some unease in a bout of sadistic inspiration, no more than you could handle, right before he leaned his head down with eyes still on you in the dark like daggers, taking his mouth to the blood and sucking on it, tasting you, hot saliva cleaning away the dried ichor of your fresh scar and whatever specks of dust and dirty got caught in the surface like it meant nothing to him. You throb and your mouth parts as you cry out, more so when he lets go, done with savoring, hands around your waist once your back gets pressed into the trunk of a nearby pine tree, held in place by him, causing you to go lightheaded with exhaustion, never even noticing he's wrapped your own ripped sleeve tucked into his belt around your gash instead of a bandage or that his other hand produced a knife, doing away your sweat drenched, wet blouse, cutting it down the middle with a ripping sound no differently than cutting through paper, using his knee pushed between your legs to keep you from falling over, maintaining your thighs parted. You were certain you were as wet as a person can be by now. The prey's been caught.

He kisses you rough enough to bruise, all grunts and desire.

A kiss with the aroma of rust and metal; the lingering aftertaste of blood.

Leaving you no space to breathe.

You moan into the contact, your blood smeared over his face smearing back unto yours along with the potent cocktail of his sweat mingled with yours, feeling his hands everywhere, rough, heavy and calloused; ripping at the thin strap the held your bra together in the front, on your throat, squeezing, around your waist, pulling by the hair and yanking back rough, grabbing your jawline, puckering your face up, biting your cheek and leaving behind teeth marks you could feel like he really intended to fucking eat you alive, not a bit of finesse or poise to him, bloodshot, feral eyes glazed over, angry yet blank, seeing the moon and nothing but yourself reflected in them, finding his stare simultaneously hollow and beaming with something primordial. Around these parts people used to gossip how sometimes, if you look carefully enough, that Barnes guy, as they called him, had eyes that shine red in the dark and right about now, you believed them regardless of how much you never enjoyed them talking shit about your man, the rut that ensues being rough, crude and quick --- hungry --- without preparation or maybe this --- all of this --- was all the preparation you needed as he fucks you against the dark pine bark, back scraping against its surface. You were a hole. Just a hole for him. In this neck of the woods, here and now, anyway.

Would you be able to walk or stand up straight after this?

You had to wonder.

Probably not seemed like a plausible answer.

-"You animal."-

You whimper and gasp as you're grabbed with both arms, practically thrown on the grass, him standing over you, his legs on either side of his body as he loomed with his head against the pitch black sky, your clothes torn, flesh exposed here and there and everywhere for him. He was magnificent. Holding his cock in his hand pulled out through the zipper of his slacks and undone belt buckles like it was a barrel of a rifle about to shoot. Appearing like he wasn't offended by the moniker that slipped past your lips unwittingly, more as a statement of the truth than an actual tease; in fact, he smiles even though he smiled so rarely, his scars embossed into the surface of his skin reflecting the pale light of the moon, making his face appear like it was smashed to pieces, centered only by his teeth on display, still red from the blood he practically drank from you. He kneels over you as you catch your breath from being hauled down as you were, spreading your legs even further, deciding it seems he prefered to have you on the cold hard ground, rather than standing up. Your feeling, aching fingers coil into the dirt, bracing yourself. Deer about to be slaughtered and displayed above the mantlepiece. Bob? An animal? More like a whole zoo. This was going to be a long night. He leans down with his visage still drawn out with the scarlet fingerpainting camouflage for a second time, speaking so closely to you you feel his breath in your nostrils caressing you, all heat, liquor and nicotine. His tongue proceeding to trace the inside of his cheek like he was itching to chew into his own flesh, spitting on the nearby soil, frustrated and wild,

Right next to where your jacket lay discarded and forgotten by the root of an old tree.

Places his hand covering nearly your entire face against your mouth.

He liked doing that as a habit from time to time, containing your moans and screams and keeping them all to himself, like he didn't like to share even the faintest echo of your desire with the world, letting it wash against the skin of the palm of his hand like a muffled, trapped cry instead; not unlike something he could close around his fist and keep like a tangible thing long after he's done with your body. It was his. All his. Every part of you was. Your soul and the very breath in your lungs.

-"Animal?"-

His expression is raw, lips crooked to the side as he cocks his head.

-"Darlin', you ain' never seen what an animal is. Not half of it."-

[androgynousblackbox]

How To Lose A Lucifer In 10 Days. 2[Appleradio, Radioapple]

Step 2: Confuse him

Lucifer was still yawning when he walked down the hallway. Yesterday had been an absolute shitshow, there was no other way to describe it, and his own participation on how it came to be was weighening on him worse almost worse than it did when he went to sleep last night. The rest had only give him enough calm to reflect on what happened and positively cringe at what happened.

When he passed through the lobby, he was mildly relieved to see that it had been completely cleaned up already. It looked like normal again, as if nothing had happened and it was ready to recieve more sinners. His shame could leave on his head where it belonged. But thinking about how it probably wasn't Niffty the responsible for doing any of that made his stomach twirl again.

It didn't help matter when he reached the kitchen and the most probably responsible for making the lobby spotless again was casually humming to himself as he was preparing a cut of meat on the fire. Lucifer wanted to stir away and just see Charlie later to apologize properly, eat something on his room when suddenly another voice made him jump in place.

"Morning, Lucifer" greeted the winged cat that attended the bar, passing him by as he yawned.

Husk, remembered luckily, still blinking at him. Since when did he use his name? As Husk looked for something in the cupboard, the source of a big portion of his problems perked up, turning around to see him pathetically standing on the door. Swallowing, Lucifer made his way inside finally to start preparing his tea.

Alastor's eyes followed him.

"Morning to you too, dear" said casually, turning to keep going going with the food. Lucifer tried to replay what he said on his mind with all his sarcasm senses up, results coming out inconclusive. "I thought you would sleep until later since you have that meeting with Paimon. Do you want me to prepare you something?"

Lucifer had several questions at that and tried to parse through them, one by one. First was how did he know about his meeting with Paimon. Did he mentioned it to Charlie at some point and she talked to him? He might have slipped somewhere, he supposed, so that was the likely explanation. Satisfied there, the second one was why was he talking to him like that, like they haven't caused a monumental disaster just yesterday. But more than anything, he was annoyed at how the question lingered in the air as he was supposed to give an actual answer. It had to be the set up for some kind of joke he wasn't getting. In that case, he was glad to let the silence stretch out even more and more until the end of the universe.

"Are you okay?" asked Alastor, without turning.

Lucifer was about to tell him something when suddenly other senses than the ones for sarcasm picked up something else. The smell of meat, of the coffee freshly made, the water on his mug turning into tea. Under all of that, there was something else that scratched his brain and went straight to somewhere close to his chest. He stared at him like he saw him for the first time and took a couple of steps, just to make sure. There was no mistaken.

"Why do you smell like you came from Heaven?" asked instead.

The shoulders of Alastor jolted once with a snort and then agitated as he laughed, almost giggling against his hand.

"I believe the phrase is supposed to be: did it hurt when you fell from Heaven? But if you are in the mood for cheesy pick up lines, I have one better for you" Alastor set the fire down for his meat and turned. His claws reached for the chin of Lucifer, but didn't clawed him, instead lifting him up ever so gently to look at his eyes. Lucifer was too shocked to move. "Is your name Morningstar? Because you have a face that makes me want to rise each morning."

Lucifer looked him from the chin to the eyes, vaguely wondering if maybe he was high. Last night he could have grabbed some pills from Bel and the effect still lingered. He haven't known that the guy could have that kind of habit, but down there in hell who knew. Some kind of new drug that made his pupils dilate slightly when looking at him and soften up his usually sharp smile. It would make a lot more sense that whatever else was happening.

"It is a better one" recognized reluctantly. Alastor grinned wider before returning to his food. Lucifer rubbed the portion of skin he had touch as if he could clean it up from the lingering warmth. "Kinda loses it's impact if you use it for someone that isn't called Morningstar, though" couldn't help but to point out.

"Luckily for me, I only use it on one Morningstar" Alastor chuckled lightly and Lucifer eyes went wide, just purely amazed at the utter audacity of this man.

He knew that this sinner was twisted, but these kind of jokes were even lower than he would have expected from him. A mockery of affection? That was cruel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you" said under his breath, taking a step back.

Husk from the table lifted his gaze, frowning at him.

"Pardon?" Alastor's brow furrowed in his direction, but before he could speak again another voice came out.

"Morning, papa!"

"Charchar!" Lucifer took his mug on his hand, spilling his tea on his haste to open a portal. His voice adquired a high pitch tone that sounded horrible even to his own ear. "Would love to stay here and have a chat, but I have a meeting, see you later, bye!" said, jumping to the other side.

Charlie rubbed her mismatched eyes, coming over to Alastor to kiss his cheek.

"Is papa okay?"

"He just had to rush, little fawn" Alastor patted her head. "Why don't you sit down and I will make something for you?"

Lucifer slept wonderfully and wasn't really surprised when he woke up to an empty bed. He had put the alarm on his phone to go off later than usual because he needed every second of rest he could grab before going to his meeting with Paimon and other Goetias. The total darkness of his room surprised him, but it wasn't an unwelcome awakening as opposed to have the sun of hell beaming direclty into his eyes. He stand out from the bed and changed with a snap of fingers, yawning as he made his way to the elevator. As he inspected his own shadow, Lucifer assumed that Alastor still had to be in the hotel. There were no immediate traces of his magic around him.

When he came to the lobby, he stopped in his tracks. Had he slept through another bombing attack? It had to be that, because what else could have done such a massive hole on one of the wall that was still getting repaires. The same hole had been covered in wooden planks, but it was still noticeable there. Everything else didn't look so much better, with all the trash of the broken decorations gathering themselves on a side and all the tables turned. Marks of claws on both the walls and floor were scattered all through out, along with other more cracks that seemed to have gone deep into the tiles.

"Jeez" cringed. He was a lot more tired than he thought. Normally he would let Alastor's minions or shadows do their job, but that mostly applied to the exterior job where someone could watch. Surely nobody was looking the interior.

With a snap of fingers, the trash was disposed off, the tables back on their place and the floors were completely repaired. All the minions stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

"Just a little help doesn't hurt" commented with a wink. "Don't tell Al, okay?"

The minions, still surprised, looked at each other for a second before they all colectively decided that they didn't care any way, returning to their work. Lucifer saw the hole on the wall again, because there was no way to not pay attention to it, and winced. Whoever was the responsible for that trip had to been consumed by Alastor already. He hoped so at least, for getting to damage the hotel of his daughter.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he smiled to seeing Alastor putting up a fresh carcass of deer on the fridge.

"Good morning, babe!" greeted, going up to the cupboard and taking his mug.

A scratching noise was heard as Alastor slowly straighten up again. He looked around the kitchen, where there was no one else but them, and then at Lucifer.

"Are you talking to me?"

Oh, was he still pissy about the cake thing?

"No, I meant your shadow" Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I don't have time. Can you tell Charlie I had a meeting with Paimon and the Goetia that I don't know how long it will last?"

The sound static sounded ever growing as Alastor turned around.

"Do you want me to rely a message to Charlie for you?"

Lucifer frowned. What was confusing about anything of what he said?

"Yes, please" said, taking some cookies from the cupboard and conjuring more just in case Charlie wanted them. He checked the hour on his phone again. "Fuck, I am really late now. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Come again?" Alastor was now openly glaring at him.

Lucifer sighed with a slight groan.

"Alright, fine, that wasn't fair. It was my fault, I should have put the alarm earlier. Happy now?" he took a cookie on his mouth, grabbed his favorite mug that he would have to refill with magic and opened up a portal without waiting an answer. "Don't wait for me at lunch, babe. Love you!" said, dissapearing to go to work and missing the white noise that surrounded Alastor.

Once the king dissapeared, Alastor saw his own shadow making a question mark on the floor and he shooke his head. How the hell was he supposed to know what was that?

The meeting with Paimon and the Goetias was just as long and dreadful as he was expecting. Lucifer now lamented that he didn't stayed sleeping some more like he wanted to, because between reading papers quickly and having to listen to their endless complaining he didn't have it on him to pretend to be as invested as he could have otherwise. When they finally settled the issue and at last he was left alone on his office, he released the biggest sigh the relief ever and let his head rest on top of the fresh wood.

He could go home.

In fact, he kinda had to go home.

Stay there or in the palace until Charlie forgot all about the birthday that has been ruined just wasn't an option, he knew that much. It would make things so much worse if he kept delaying the moment to put his big boy pants and go to her to at least apologize for what happened, to recognize that maybe (most definitely) had a part of blame to be responsible of.

But going home also meant going back to that asshole tacky piece of shit and, frankly, if he could skip that part entirely he would have already gone now. Knowing Charlie, she was definitely going to insist that an apology also had to be exchanged between the two of them and that was a thought that revolted his stomach to his core.

The whole interaction of that morning still gave him the creeps. What was even that? How was supposed to react to something like that after last night? Maybe he thought that if he acted nice towards him, he would be the one to apologize first? That Charlie would believe he deserved that more and Lucifer would look even worse for not doing it first? Charlie wasn't even there for the start of it, so what was the point?

Not to mention that vaguely holy essence that he was exuding. People don't just sell those in perfume bottles in the streets. It didn't came from anything specific, but a feeling that resonated deep within his being and felt vaguely wrong, while also being familiar. It was the same essence that Vaggie had the first day he met her. Something that obviously did not make any sense because Alastor was a sinner through and through. One of the worst examples of what a sinner could be, if half of what he had heard from Vaggie was true.

He had no business carrying that corrupted holy smell around, and yet, he did. Lucifer was so sure about it as he was about his own falling. The first and more easy explanation was an actual fallen taking the form of Alastor to infiltrate the hotel and destroy it from within. A complicated plan, too complicated even, but maybe Heaven could get that desperate after what happened on the last extermination, if they thought they had no choice.

But if that was the case, why bothering with making Alastor nice? Alastor was not nice. Everyone knew that! Even his daughter, who wanted to see the very best on anyone, had no illusions about the kind of man that was. If they were hoping to infiltrate the hotel, wouldn't that be the very first thing they would try to research to get it right? Why go through all of that trouble only to fumble on the actual character and make it obvious that the supposed Alastor had something wrong with him? If they had killed or just taken the real Alastor somewhere else, though, at least that was a saving grace of their whole stupid plan.

Lucifer munched on the sandwich he had conjured up for himself as he mulled on those thoughts. Finally, when Charlie surely would have to be on bed by now, Lucifer stand up and sighed as he opened up a portal. At no moment did he noticed the little black spot that was on the corner, dissapearing into the shadows underneath some curtains.

On the hotel there was a perfect silence in the air. Everyone should have been sleeping at those hours. Lucifer made it to his tower, debating seriously directly going beyond the hallway to the other side of the building, knock on the radio tower and demand some answers. Kick out the imposter and tell them that they didn't need to bring the original anyway, but at least get out of his daughter's business, thank you very much. Maybe tell him a thing or two about how incredibly sloppy their job have been.

Who knew, maybe by now Charlie herself had noticed the weird changes and wasn't sure what to do about it. It would only all the more impressive on her eyes that her dear good old father had taken decisive action. He was thinking about all of that and more when he opened up the door to this room, only to find out the fake Alastor comfortably reading a book on his bed.

"What the…" Lucifer started, when he realized that his entire room was wrong.

Most of his circus decor was there, but now there was a green chimney flaming on the corner and a seemingly entire bayou on the other extreme from which the sounds of nature came in. He was sure that could be lovely to sleep to, but he haven't put that there. How did this helped the imposter to infiltrate the hotel?

As he stood dumbfounded, Alastor marked the page he was at, put the book on a side and smiled at him. How did putting some red pajamas was going to destroy the hotel? Lucifer could not imagine.

"You really took your time, darling. Are you feeling okay?"

Lucifer blinked at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Alastor was clearly taken aback at that. The radio demon tilted his head to a side, regarding him.

"Where do you think I should be?" asked calmly.

"Not here, that much is clear" Lucifer went on to touch one of the chairs in front of the chimney. It was solid alright. The fire was giving a pleasant warmth. And he was sure that if he threw a duckie to the other side of the room it would splash against the body of water that was definitely there. "Alright" Lucifer took a deep breath and turned, his horns starting to grown. "I don't know what kind of fucked up plan is this one, but I suggest you take all of your stupid bullshit out of here and leave my daughter alone before I really lose my patience."

Alastor's frown deepened, his eyes layered with equal amounts concern and caution. Lucifer decided to read that as the guy slowly realizing that his master plan had utterly failed.

"Lucifer" started, standing up from the bed, but making no motion to come closer, probably realizing that Lucifer was only to react all the more worse for that. At least this one wasn't a complete idiot. "Who do you think I am?"

"I know you think you are pretending to be Alastor" replied Lucifer, whipping out his tail behind him as it moved from side to side. "But you are doing a terrible job at it, let me tell you. Nailing the horrible haircut and the eyes and everything, but the personality is way off. So come on" said, burying his claw on the chair and throwing it to a side until it broke against the wall. "Show me your real face before I tear it apart."

"Alright" The fake Alastor lifted up his sleeve, where a sigil was inscribed against his wrist, and pressed it with his other hand. The entire time his eyes didn't leave Lucifer while the illusion spell got deactivated, revealing… another Alastor, but off color. The black eyes with the green pupils regarded him calmly, or at least maskering very well what else could be going on inside his head. "This is my real face. The king of hell should be able to check me for any other magic as resident of hell."

Lucifer sneared.

"I know you are a fallen already, that is not news. What are you doing here? Are you working for Heaven? Did they promised you that they would let you get back if you just came here and fuck things up?"

The smile of the fake Alastor shook, like he had lashed a whip to his face with those words.

"Doesn't matter what I say you won't believe me, do you?" asked the intruder. "You have already decided to kill me."

"Oh, sure. For that suddenly you grew a brain, but not to actually do your homework and know who is the piece of shit you are replacing. I mean, seriously? How does turning my room into this was ever going to help you?"

"It was worse before" commented the fake Alastor, his eyes going to the door and slightly opening as if he saw something there. It was only a second that Lucifer took to check the door before he dissapeared completely, consumed by shadows.

"Oh, no, you won't" said Lucifer, letting his eyes glow red as he looked that surgency of energy.

He realized with a sudden sense of urgency that fake Alastor was a lot stronger than the real one ever was. His magic was almost even comparable to Charlie's, if not in the same level. That wasn't a fallen like Vaggie, absolutely no. When he detected the that specific energy stopped moving on the fifth floor, his blood ran cold on his veins. That was the floor where Charlie and Vaggie sleep in. Charlie was still so inexperienced when it come to fighting with her power and Vaggie would be squashed without much effort.

Without a second to lose, Lucifer portaled towards the place, just as the fake Alastor took solid form again, this time the illusion spell up again. Lucifer now was officially pissed at what was obviously a threat on his daughter.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" growled, his wings extending full. He grabbed the front of the pajama shirt of the fallen and pulled up, making him lose contact with the floor. "You think I am going to let you hurt my daughter, you piece of shit?"

The fake Alastor hold onto his hand and his eyes moved to the side again. That time Lucifer didn't turned around as he lifted his claw. That time he should have.

"Papa, no!" screamed the inconfundible voice of Charlie, running up to him but Lucifer flew higher.

Now he got it. That sneaky bastard wasn't trying to attack Charlie directly, but use her so he would hesitate into doing what he had to

"This is not Alastor, sweetie" said before anything, knowing she had some weird sense of affection for him. "He is a fallen that came to destroy the hotel."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie went to the other side, where she could make eye contact with him. "Leave dad on the floor now! We can talk about this!"

"Dad?" That is when Lucifer looked to her for the first time.

Her red eye next to a yellow one, both equally scared and worried at what they were seeing, the tiny antlers on the top of her head, the green stitches at the corners of her mouth. The sudden realization that girl sounded like Charlie, spoke like Charlie and had an eerily similar hotel to Charlie, but wasn't Charlie, left him speechless.

"My daughter" said the fake Alastor, despite everything smiling with a note of pride. "She has my magic and the magic of Lucifer Morningstar on her. Should be easy to see for the real king of hell."

Lucifer did, leaving this Alastor to fall to the floor in the process and the other Charlie to run up to him. Inside of the silhuette that formed her there was a clear mixure of energies in constant movement. So well mixed together that it was impossible to separate them at all, but they were still discernible if one knew how to see. One of those was identical to the energy occupying the inside of the fallen. The other one already knew it. His own magic wanted to reach out to her so strongly as he felt for his actual Charlie.

"I… I don't get it" said, getting to the floor. He looked around to the hallways he was sure he had helped to build before he looked again at them. "What is happening? Why are you like that?"

Alastor looked over at the other Charlie as if to confirm something and she nodded. She had to feel that they were connected too. She couldn't deny he was Lucifer Morningstar any more that he could deny who she was. Maybe not his Charlie, but a Charlie nonetheless. That answer seemed to shock Alastor and he closed his eyes for a second, regaining his composure.

"Lucifer" called the other Alastor, standing in front of Charlie. Protecting her from him, as if he was the danger there. "You are obviously confused right now."

"No fucking shit I am!" Lucifer said, his heart beating faster that it ever needed to as he glared to the fallen. "My first question is still who the fuck are you! Why is your magic all over my daughter?"

Charlie moved under the arm of the fallen to go to him. Lucifer hated the way the fallen kept his hands on her shoulders, as if ready to push her out of the way if there was any need. That was infinitely more devastating than any nice Alastor could be. He could never hurt his daughter, no matter how different she was now.

It seemed as if this Charlie knew or was counting on it, that is why she decided to be the intermdiary.

"Papa, this is Alastor. This is my dad, just like you are my papa."

"My Charlie doesn't have other father" said Lucifer, grabbing his head. None of this was making any more sense. If any of them was lying, he couldn't imagine how. His eyes could never lied to him. If they were speaking the truth, the only odd one out was him in this picture. "My Charlie has a mother. The Alastor I know is just some jackass that works on her hotel. I have nothing to do with him or he has nothing to do with my Charlie."

"Papa, I… I don't know what to tell you, that is not true."

Lucifer stared at her. He already knew that she wasn't lying. It was written all over her face as easy to see as the red dots on her cheeks. Then he looked at the fallen, who sighed.

"Let us all calm down" said, elevating his volume as if to reach further. Lucifer looked back at Vaggie standing on the doorframe, holding her spear up. At the word of the fallen, she lowered her weapon. Lucifer was hurt again by that. This Vaggie was exactly the same as the one he knew and he always thought she was a sweet polite girl. Now she was treated him as a threath. "Lucifer" His attention returned to the fallen, who had taken another step towards him. He rubbed a gold ring he wore with the fingers of the same hand and looked hesitant about how to approach him. "How about you tell us what is the last thing you remember?"

Lucifer snapped his fingers. In an instant, the four of them were on the kitchen. Lucifer grabbed one of the chairs at the table and sat down, rubbing his temple.

"I guess you mean before this morning?" asked, getting a nod from the other Alastor as he sat down.

Charlie stayed at his side, leaving a hand on his shoulder now, Vaggie near her with arms crossed. Seeing his daughter so caring about someone that looked like that guy activated the same sense of annoyance that it did since the first time the radio demon had tried to brag about about being a better father than him. But this Alastor was only looking at him, without trying to be smug about their proximity.

"I don't know" said, scratching the nack of his neck. "I had a bad night. It was the birthday of Charlie and…" Lucifer threw a glance at Charlie and lowered his head. "We… I kinda ruined it. Me and Alastor got into a disagreement over how the birthday should be. Party decorations, the cake, the music, all of that. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but he kept poking and poking and poking and I flicked him off across a wall? It sounds silly, but it wasn't. I didn't mean to hit him that hard, just shut him up whatever way I could. He came back even more angry and I was angry. He threw me a rockola to my head and I threw the cake at him and… welp, that was it, really? Even if I was hit in the head, that wouldn't make me see any of this" Lucifer suddenly wondered if this was a dream then. He pinched his own cheek until it certainly hurt and rubbed it soothingly, only more confused. Also, why would he dream about a multiple hours long meeting with the Goetia?

"Maybe some kind of spell?" suggested Charlie. "Something that implanted those memories into you and made you think they were real? Because my birthday party was yesterday and it was great! Thank to you and dad. Nobody got into any fight."

"That is good to know, sweetie" said Lucifer, honestly relieved that at least one Charlie didn't had to go throught that embarrassment. "I don't know, maybe if they got a extremely powerful one? I am usually imnume to that kind of thing."

He wasn't trying to brag per se, but be realistic about it. Besides, even if someone did want to implant all that on his head and forget about his previous life, what would be the point? It wasn't doing anything to take away his powers, his title was still very much his. The connection to this hell was just the same as always.

"No, it's worse than that" said Alastor, looking over at him. His eyes looked mournful as he examined his face. "I don't think you are our Lucifer either."

"We established that already" replied Lucifer, tired. "We are trying to figure the why. Try to keep up."

"No, I mean in the literal sense" Alastor reached forward, his eyes getting more intense as he stared at him. "Our Lucifer has a contract for the soul of someone in this hotel. Call them forth. Even if your mind has been messed with, you should be able to."

"I do?" Lucifer frowned, wondering if all the residents was the same and with whome he could make that kind of deal.

It had been ages since he had taken any soul at all. But this Alastor was right. A soul contract was inherently tied to the owner, like another organ that contributed to their power. He called upon the contract that he had, limited to the area of this hotel. A light twingle of energy ran through his forearm and finished on his palm with a little red poof, as if he had fired a blank.

Alastor sighed, holding his head. Charlie looked to a side, rubbing his back. In all of his years after falling, Lucifer had never seen someone so dissapointed for the devil not taking another life.

"Okay?" said, confused. "I don't have any contract with anyone here, so what? Are you saying that I am literally from another dimension where there should be another Lucifer?"

Alastor rubbed his brow and left his hand there for a second longer.

"Yes" said finally.

"With whome is the contract anyway?" asked, curious. "Maybe they just aren't here at this hour?"

"They are here. You just don't have any connection to them" Alastor sighed again, finally looking up. He looked so very tired that Lucifer almost felt bad for the guy. No, wait, if this wasn't really the same Alastor he knew maybe he could feel a little bad about him? Maybe this one was actually nicer? Although the idea of them being an entirely different place very similar to his own, with the only difference he could percieve being who was the other parent to his daughter, was still something his mind struggled to grasp.

He had heard about multiple dimensions existing, of course. One didn't live as long as he did without hearing some theories from the humans trying to make sense of the universe. But he himself had never seen proof of their existance. Until now, apparently.

"Oh" said, not knowing how to procede now. "Well. Fuck. I didn't do this" clarified, because somehow that felt important to make known. "My life wasn't perfect or anything, but I wouldn't chosen to completely change it like that."

Especially not to be closer to you, added mentally.

"I assumed that when you attacked me" pointed out the other Alastor, barely separating his teeth as he smiled. Or maybe he should just say Alastor, since there wasn't any other here. Alastor took a deep breath, reclining on his chair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Assuming there is a high chance that our Lucifer end up where you come from, not some other place we know nothing about" As he said those words, Lucifer noticed the way his claws dig in into his forearms, "tell me then. How do you imagine he could be doing over there?"

"If he is still like me, same everything else? As long he keeps his distance from the Alastor I know, he should be fine. That guy does not want to be around me either if he can help it so that should work just fine" he shrugged. "I don't really think you have anything to worry about for him."

Yawning with a hand over his mouth, Lucifer made his way to the radio tower where he knew his husband was broadcasting. That alone was curious for him because usually at that hour Alastor would be preparing for bed, but Lucifer was surprised to hear his voice, loud and clear, from the radio on the lobby. While he was gone, the minions had finally managed to repair the hole and leave the place presentable again. The voice of the radio host was the only sound that occupied the silence of the place and recieved him when he appeared on the kitchen, looking for a quick dinner.

He heard it for a little bit while eating the fresh sandwich he made, wondering if Alastor had dinner already. If he had gotten so suck up by his radio show, he could probably conjure something for him. On top of that, he just wanted to see him, even if he couldn't speak to him or talk. With that reasoning in mind, Lucifer stopped in front of the door to the studio and waited until the sign above that indicated there was a recording going on turned off. At that point Alastor would turn off the mic as some music played and drink some coffee he didn't really need to stay awake, but wanted anyway.

Once he had that permission, he knocked on the door and waited for a calm "come in" before he went inside.

"Hey, babe" greeted, seeing him just as he expected, siping his mug as he was reclined on his chair. Some swing music could be hear muffled from some speakers above his head. "Tough night. Meeting sucked ass on my end."

Alastor's smiled faltered a little.

"Ah, it's you" said, not recognizing the rest of his words. Sounding so very bored alrady of their conversation. "What can I do for you, your Majesty?"

Lucifer straighten up at that. Alastor only called him by his title when he was upset with him, as if putting some kind of barrier between them that wasn't there when he used his name. Alastor being upset wasn't all that weird, but for every soul in hell he could not imagine why.

"Are you still angry about the cake thing?" asked, scratching his neck. This was a unusually large amount of time to give that any importance. They normally would have move on from that in the morning and only bring it up on a later date for some well earned smug points. "Because I am not about to say sorry, let me tell you."

"No, of course not" Alastor grinned, barely showing his teeth. "How could I ever expect a king to denigrate himself to apologize to a lowly subject?"

"Wow, okay" Lucifer blinked, taken aback. "First of all, don't ever say that about yourself again. Second, I… I thought it was for fun? I didn't know you were taken it so seriously."

"We clearly have different ideas for what is fun, your Majesty. I don't find being thrown across a room outside of a sparring match very entertaining."

Was that some kind of metaphor he wasn't picking on?

"I… I didn't mean to throw you across the room?" said, hoping he was using the phrase correctly. Sometimes he had no idea until it was too late what was he even saying. The lingo in hell changed so fast that it was hard to keep up and mistakes were bound to happen. From where Alastor would pick that one up, he had no idea either. "I thought you were intending to do that to me?" continued on.

At that, Alastor looked away, elevating his chin.

"Well, that is not the point" said simply. "A man of your stature should be above such acts. Even if that stature is as short as yours, your Highness" added, with a note of happy irony at the end.

"Oh, short jokes? So originl coming from you" Lucifer rolled his eyes, groaning. "Listen, if it's so important for you now, next time you can throw me across the room, okay?"

Alastor arched an eyebrow, mildly amused by that.

"For as fun for me as that would be, I don't think Charlie would appreciate that either."

"Well, whatever, she will still have two cakes anyway so she can't complain much" said, letting out another long yawn and missing the expression of total confusion that flashed through Alastor's face for one second before he returned to his default detacched one. "Are you coming to bed or what?"

There it was again, that scratching sound. It had been a while since he heard it.

"Excuse me?"

"Bed" insisted Lucifer. "To sleep. Close your eyes. No broadcasting. Rest. Ever heard of the that?"

"I don't think that is of any concern for you, your Majesty."

"Okay, you are mad" Lucifer rubbed his temple. "Babe, I am sorry, but I am so very much tired and I have no idea what did I do wrong. Can you just tell me already? Without weird new phrases in the middle if possible?"

"Mad? You completely misunderstood me, your Highness. Not a surprise there. No, you can relax your loyal head now and stop worrying because I feel about you exactly the same as I did yesterday with no difference."

"You have some way to show it" Lucifer dragged himself to the large couch in front of the control panel, the static sound increasing around him, and let himself fall into it. "Fine, finish your broadcast then. I will wait for you to stop being a pissy baby."

A moment of silence passed as Lucifer accomodated his suit jacket as a pillow.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked Alastor, his voice sounding without a filter as if sincerely lost.

"Me? I told you, I am tired. Just finish what you are doing and wake me up when you want to go to bed. You shouldn't be staying up so late either" pointed out in the middle of another yawn. "You need your beauty sleep more than me, after all" added with a lazy smile directed at him, before accomodating with his face towards the back support of the seat. "Love you, babe" added, letting his eyes close.

He didn't know how much time passed, but it couldn't be a lot when he felt a hand gently pushing his shoulder and a familiar voice calling to him.

"Dad?" called Charlie. As he was slowly waking up, Lucifer could only frown at the wrong name. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Why are you calling me dad now?" asked, turning on the couch to cover his eyes with his forearm. "Where is Alastor?"

"He was the one who told me to come pick you up" said Charlie, putting a hand over his forehead as if to see if he was feverish. "He said you were acting too weird."

"Weirder for our king's standards, at least" added Alastor from somewhere behind her. "Is he drunk? He sounded drunk."

"I can't get drunk that easily, babe, you know that" Lucifer slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. Was he acting weird? He didn't really think so, but maybe there was something he was missing?

He didn't caught the look of concern that Charlie threw to Alastor.

"Do you see now? He has been calling me that the entire day."

"I was outside almost all day, that doesn't count" protested Lucifer looking up at him before his eyes landed on Charlie. He gasped loudly, his back touching the couch. As he grabbed the arms of Charlie, any traces of sleepiness were replaced for pure panic. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"What?! Do I have something on my face?" asked Charlie, touching her own skin.

"Your eye! Where are your antlers? Do you even have your tail now?" Lucifer grabbed Charlie to see her back and saw with a sinking feeling that there was no adorable fluffy tail nowhere to be seen. "Oh, sweetie, what happened?" asked, hugging her tight as he looked over at Alastor with big eyes. "Did I do this somehow?! Is that why you are pissed at me? I didn't mean to! I would never do that to our baby!"

"Our baby?" repeated Charlie and Alastor at the same time, Alastor with the tone of someone about to cackle.

"D-dad" said Charlie and Lucifer frowned, separating from her to look her face again.

"Why do you insist in calling me that? Alastor is your dad, I am papa."

Alastor proceded to then cackle, so hard that he folded in two and had to grab to his control panel so he wouldn't end up in the floor.

"Is not funny, Alastor!" reprimanded Charlie, which only caused Alastor to howl with laugher, before looking at him with nothing but worry. She took one of his hand on hers. Lucifer could very much recognize that this was indeed his baby, but something was seriously wrong here and he didn't understand why nobody was freaking out more about it. "Dad, papa… did you took anything weird? Maybe you found some of the stashes of Angel?"

"I am not on drugs, sweetie!" Lucifer made a quick review of his day just to be sure, realizing that the only things he ate or drank where stuff he conjured himself. Unless someone made slices bread with coke, and if they did, that still wouldn't explain why everyone else was acting to weird. "I just… are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Something horrible must have happened to you! Let me see…" His eyes glowed red as he looked over and just as he feared, the magical essence of Alastor was completely absent from the body of Charlie. Except for one single point he recognized. "Why do you have a deal with Alastor?"

As soon he made that question, Alastor stopped laughing instantly, as if the sound was cut out of the room by the most precise bisturi in existence. He glared at Lucifer over his shoulder. Charlie shifted a little on the corner of the couch.

"I… I kinda had to. To know about how to kill angels before the extermination."

"Why would you need a deal for that…" Lucifer looked over at Alastor, who had an unreadable neutral smile on his face, waiting for his reaction. But he was just confused because that wasn't at all how Charlie came to know about that. "Also, no, I told you about it. When we came back from our date and you were back from meeting with Heaven. My memory might not be the best, but I know that much."

Charlie stared at him, as if watching a three legged puppy attempting and failing to swim out of the pool where he was about to drown.

"Papa, come with me" said gently, taking his arm to coax him to stand up. "I think I should call auntie Bel."

Lucifer looked over to Alastor, who had regained his same posture with hands at his back, as if just waiting for them to get out of his studio already. He had never felt so unwelcome on his presence, not even when they first met.

"O-okay" said, following her up. Something was wrong, very much wrong.

Half an hour later, the sin of Sloth put down her magnifying glass. She had used it to stare a Lucifer for the last 20 minutes without speaking or saying anything. Sometimes a tiny mmm came out of her, but that was about it. On the kitchen of the hotel, Vaggie had prepared tea for the sins and a cup of coffee for Charlie, who never stopped holding the hand of Lucifer. Alastor had materialized on the corner, his curiosity called upon. Lucifer had given the briefest of summaries about his life and quickly find out how it was different than the life Charlie claimed he had.

For one, Alastor wasn't his husband. He was actually just another member of the staff at the hotel.

For another, he didn't created Charlie with craft materials, but the traditional way.

Finally, this Charlie apparently had a mom that wasn't with them right now. Lucifer had no idea if that meant she was dead or something else entirely, but didn't pressed her about it. He could get the gist of it from how she looked so uncomfortable talking about it.

"This is not Luci" declared Bel, blinking only slightly faster than normal. This was interesting enough that to take away some of her eternal sleepiness away. "Our Luci at least. This one doesn't belong here."

"What does that mean?" asked Charlie, since Lucifer could only stare at her blankly as if she just spoke gibberish.

"Mmmm, how do I explain" Bel seriously pondered the question for a whole minute. Despite burning with the question at the tip of her tongue, Charlie hold it in until her auntie suddenly had and idea. She pulled out from her purse two bottles of pills, one purple and the other pink. "Think this one as your home, your family and your history" said, putting the bottle on the table. "And this is is your home, but not your family or your history. They are both pretty similar, both made with some ingredients in common, but not the same. This Luci end up on the bottle of pills that wasn't his. With similar things to his own bottle, but different. That is why his aura is all off, but still recognizes you. You are both fine" said, extending a hand slowly to pat the one Lucifer had on the table. "There is nothing wrong with either of you. You just got mixed up somehow."

"Cool" said Lucifer, tapping his feet on the floor. Charlie felt his hand get clammy and cold on her, but she didn't let go if Lucifer wasn't going to. "Coolcoolcoolcool. Great. So, how do I get back? Because I kinda have to get back. Like, right now if possible. The faster the better."

"I don't know" Bel shrugged. "My especialty is the body and mind, not the location of the body, Luci. I have never seen a pill so badly sorted. My quality control is better than that."

"Cool" Lucifer squeezed his jaw tight, his smile turning into a grimace. "Well. Fuck. Me. I need to get back."

"Mmmm" Bel thought about it for another long minute. Lucifer started scratching at the chair under him, leaving the print of his claws on the surfice. "You need help."

"You think!?" finally exploded Lucifer, his eyes flashing red and spitting fire.

"You are so stressed out too" said Bel, nodding in understanding. "Do you want some pills to help you sleep? Maybe that can help you out to think a solution in the morning. There is no problem that a good nap can't solve."

Lucifer exhaled a cloud of smoke through his nose.

"Except this one" he looked over at Alastor, slightly more amused by this situation, and he sighed deeply, covering his eyes with his hand.

"He-hey, she is right, papa" said Charlie, rubbing his back. "Right now there is no one awake anyway. Frankly, I am surprised that she even answered the call! I am sure we will think of something in the morning. Your… family will be fine for one night."

Bel nodded, bobbing her head as she rocked her body side to side.

"Here, take them if you need it. It will make time pass faster" said Bel, leaving another bottle of pills on the table. "Dreamless sleep. You will need it."

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 9

Hopper comes down the stairs. “We’re gonna spin this as a spurned lover. Henry here,” He looks at the empty porch again, somehow knowing exactly where the body is despite the lack of evidence, “couldn’t get over Nancy rejecting him, so he stalked her and attacked her. She called Steve for help, who called me. Munson, you can leave if you want, keep your name out of it.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “I was at work when this started, I need an excuse to show my boss. Police report seems about as good as anything to get him off my back.” 

“Okay, you two,” Hopper points to Eddie and Steve, “are old friends. Steve visited the graveyard earlier and knew you were working. When Nancy called for help, Steve picked up Eddie for backup after calling me. I got here first, found Henry attacking Nancy and got him outside. When you showed up he tried to attack you, too. That’s when I shot him.”

“You just came up with all that on the spot?” Eddie can’t help asking. 

Hopper shoots him a wry, unamused look. “Steve’s been working on this for years, long before I got involved. But I’ve had plenty of time to concoct a plan for what to do if Henry was caught.” He cocks his head in Eddie’s direction. “You were easy enough to work into that plan.”

“Hopper’s almost as prepared as Nancy is for anything,” Steve says, helping Nancy sit up. 

“I’m not sure anyone’s as prepared as Wheeler,” Hopper jokes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like this is some inside joke Eddie’s on the outside of understanding. 

The smile disappears as quickly as it came when they hear sirens in the distance. “Steve, undo the spell.” 

Eddie’s eyes follow Steve up the stairs as his hands flit around, undoing the cloak over Henry. The dead body lying there is just as jarring as seeing him fall to the ground with a bullet between his eyes. There’s more blood than Eddie remembered pooling around him on the ground.

Steve makes it back to Nancy’s side right before the first set of cars pull up outside. Officers Eddie vaguely recognizes from when he got busted dealing meet them on the lawn. 

They give their statements, sticking as closely to Hopper’s story as they can. Eddie embellishing a bit on Steve finding him in the graveyard, frantic and asking for help as Eddie was working to restore Herman’s disturbed gravesite, covering Steve’s tracks on that front. 

Eddie’s statement doesn’t take as long as Steve and Nancy’s. He sits back and watches the investigators document everything, the tedious removal of Henry’s body. There’s a fleeting thought that he’ll probably see him again in a week or two once his body is cleared for burial. As long as he hasn’t been fired, that is. 

After the cops clear them to go home, Steve takes a moment alone with Nancy. Eddie tries not to watch as he rubs her arms and pulls her into another tight hug, both of them pretty shaken after tonight. Eddie can’t imagine what they’ve been through after the past couple of years, suspicious of everyone and desperate to find answers. 

Nancy was clearly so involved that she lost sight of herself, at least physically. She’s gaunt and barely able to stand on her own after that spell on Henry. The effect on Steve is less noticeable, shaky hands shoved into jean pockets, sweat beading his forehead, shoulders tense and up to his ears. Eddie wonders again who is taking care of Steve while he’s busy taking care of Nancy. 

With one last look at the crime scene, where Hopper stands protectively beside Nancy and nods at them as they pull out of the driveway, Eddie sinks into the passenger seat. It’s silent for a beat, Eddie watching Steve, Steve watching the road. He’s positive if Steve wasn’t gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, his hands would still be shaking. 

At the stop sign at the end of Nancy’s road, Steve asks, “Am I taking you home or back to the graveyard?” His voice is monotone, as if life has left Steve.

“Steve,” Eddie reaches out and places a hand over his on the wheel. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. We caught the bad guy, it’s over.” Steve’s grip tightens under Eddie’s hand. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re okay. I’m not as emotionally involved in all of this as you are, you can scream or cry or break down if you need to.” Steve doesn’t look at him, just stares through the windshield into the starry night. “I just thought, maybe you were holding it together for Nancy. It’s okay to let go now.” 

Before Eddie can say anything else, Steve’s putting the car in park, right there at the stop sign, and dragging him into an embrace across the console. It’s fierce, one of the tighter hugs Eddie’s received in his whole life. Probably third to the hug from his mother before she passed away and the one from Wayne when he showed up on his doorstep after Al abandoned him. 

It’s desperate and clingy, if a bit uncomfortable with the hard plastic digging into their sides. Against his chest, Eddie senses Steve’s breathing hitch, a small hiccup as he otherwise silently falls apart. Tears stain the front of Eddie’s t-shirt and Eddie wishes he had something fancier to soak up Steve’s grief.

They stay like that for a while, no cars on the road to disturb them at this hour. Steve burrowed into the side of Eddie’s neck, face pressed into his shoulder and arms tightly wound behind Eddie’s back. At some point, Eddie started unconsciously stroking Steve’s hair the same way his mother used to when she was trying to calm Eddie. 

When Steve finally lets go and shuffles back self-consciously to his side of the car, pressing his back against the door, he looks sheepish. 

There’s an apology there on the tip of his tongue that Eddie stops with a quick, “No,” he shakes his head and does a slashing motion in the air, “Absolutely no apologies, unless it’s about how I have to fix Herman’s grave.” A huff of amusement leaves Steve. “You’ve been through a lot, Steve. I think you should’ve run screaming from this years ago. But you’re brave.” Steve opens his mouth to protest. “No, nope! I’m right, deal with it. You’re brave and kind and loyal.”

Steve rubs at the back of his face with the sleeve of his sweater, drying up the last remaining tear tracks. He mumbles thanks into the fabric. 

“Now, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you alone in that horrible house tonight. Not after everything. Nancy said you can’t trust the rest of the coven either, so I don’t think you should be alone. You’re a sitting target then.” 

Steve’s face scrunches in confusion. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Well,” and here he hesitates. They still don’t know each other very well, but Eddie feels trauma bonded to Steve in a way that should probably be frightening, but feels natural, like they were always meant to find each other. Everything in him is telling him to not walk away from Steve. “I could stay with you tonight. And whenever you need, really, since I work right behind your house most nights.”

“Y-you want to stay with me?” Steve’s voice is meek, almost too quiet to hear in the dead of night. 

Eddie reaches out again, taking one of Steve’s hands. They’re warm, despite the chill in the air, and Eddie doesn’t ever want to let go. “Has anyone checked on you during all of this? Besides Hopper and Nancy?” Steve shakes his head no. “Let me look out for you. I know I won’t help against magic, but at least I know everything. You can talk to me about it. That’s something, right?” 

It takes a long time for Steve to answer, emotions flickering across his face, looking at Eddie like he can pick apart his brain. “I’d like that.” 

A weight lifts off Eddie’s shoulders. Steve’s not going to magically disappear from his life just like he came. He’s going to let someone in. He’s going to let Eddie in. And Eddie won’t take that opportunity for granted. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

Morning Sun

Universe: Resident Evil

wc: 1,891

Pairing: Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: No genuine active smut contained, but graphic mentions of smut. Vague angst? Either way this fic will be 18+!! No minors, sorry!!

a/n: I know that i have a bad hyperfixation for this man but I cannot help it. Every few years Leon enters my mind, gets drunk and refuses to leave like the sick old bastard he is. Either way, some new adventure time fics will be dropping soon, lovelies. I hope they'll be better than whatever this is!!

again props to lipglossanon!! I read their dogman!Leon fic this morning and all jokes aside, it did actually give me rabies.

without further ado,

--

The sun’s quiet, striking rays bled through the curtains covering your window. Opening your eyes, for a couple of minutes, all you did was observe how the dust and particles of your room would enter the rays of light, glitter for a few beautiful moments, and then exit and disappear completely. How your soft breaths would make the floating dust swirl and dip in the air. 

Footsteps laden with sleep marched by your thin bedroom door, the owner’s hand not even bothering to harass you in this early morning hour. There was a twist of pleasure lurching in the bottom of your stomach that you couldn’t quite place the emotion of. Sure, Leon made you feel good, and he made you feel good often, but there was just something strange about this entire situation. It was something you felt like you weren’t allowed to read, family ties concerning your stepbrother were always hushed, always secretive. 

You could see it in his eyes when the sky was cloudy outside, when irises the color of sea glass glazed over whenever he even saw the trace of flame. There was something that happened to him, but until he told you, you knew that it was not your place to know. 

So, almost every night at this point, you’d let him slip into your room and fuck you, because there was something else happening behind those eyes whenever he did. And maybe the next night would inch you closer to the truth than you had been before, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe this was Leon’s strange way of healing, letting himself be sweaty in your arms, laying his damp head on your chest, panting in the dark. There would be some nights when the curtains were drawn tight and the moon was invisible, and the light pollution of the city you two were living in snuffed out almost every star in the sky. 

On those nights, he would scratch you, and he’d hold your hips so tight you would bruise and squeal in a sort of pain that only brought you more pleasure as an apology. Sometimes, when those nights were pitch black and all you could ever know was him, he would cum deep inside your body and you would feel tears track their searing path down your skin. You’d hold him tight and he’d cry into the pillow. If on the rare chance that you two would wake up together, there would not be a word spoken about it. Leon would even leave you alone during the day as consolation. The teasing, the ribbing, the brother-like feeling of annoyance that Leon would always so easily place in your chest would always be softer. 

Sometimes, after those rough nights, you would sit on the couch and wince and you would catch the end of guilt playing itself out in your stepbrother's eyes. Something happened to him. Something strange, and deep. 

But right now, the morning was standing to its fullest glory, and the sunshine was tinting your room gold. All you could do was admire the prettiness and follow the shimmer like a crow. 

--

Breakfast was a desolate affair. 

The family still hadn’t gotten used to each other yet- and not really in the way between yourself and Leon anymore. No, while you two finally seemed to be getting along, (At least, in the eyes of your shared parents), the wear and tear of a stressed, overworked couple was starting to show. Sometimes, you would search your parent’s eyes for any meaning behind their stress, to see if any of it was because of you- but nothing. 

More often than not, nights were left with arguments that led mornings to be silent and awkward. But, thankfully, it was a free, clear Saturday. You didn’t have any morning plans at the very least, so you could just grab a bowl of cereal and scurry back to your room with it. You wanted to bask in the sunshine and go back to sleep, because the morning warmth always felt beautiful. 

So, when you stroll into the kitchen to make something for yourself to eat, your eyes set upon the shirtless figure of your stepbrother. He was a bit older than you, a bit taller than you, a bit meaner than you. He always seemed to be a bit more than you whenever you were found measuring yourself, but you also had the capacity to see that his trait for competition wasn’t always a good thing. You wondered why that trait was in him at all. 

But still, there were some times when he’d steal quick kisses from you in the dark, unshared corners of the new house you moved to- and you swear you could smell sweetness on his skin. Sometimes his eyes would glide all over you, and you felt like you were being studied every time he got the chance to take the time. He tried to hide it- but at this point, his studying is paying off; he knows every curve and corner and awkward angle of your body. His hands knew it, much more than before. You felt the spreading warmth of familiarity in his fingertips when he traced shapes on your skin. 

He pulled you out of your thoughts, which mainly manifested in a burning of arousal in your gut and remembrance of exactly how he fucked you the night before. Your stroll stutters for even half a second- he notices and smirks- before you ignore his gaze and just decide on getting yourself a glass of water before leaving. You’ll know it’ll taste like stinging mint sliding down your throat, but you’d rather put off breakfast for the current moment. You didn’t have it in you to deal with Leon, however enchanted you might be with him. 

As soon as you finish your glass and set it down in the sink, you feel arms firmly wrap around your center. Sometimes, Leon’s touch was the warmest, toastiest embrace that you’ve ever felt. Other times, times where it was unexpected -where it was wrong to be acting like this in a semi-public part of the house- it was like you’d been tiptoeing over thin ice, and it suddenly caved in all around you. 

It was a sort of cold water shock, how much your lungs wanted to expand against your ribs and gasp. But, you kept it down, kept it quiet- he’d tease you and be mean sometimes, but he preferred the quiet when he was nosing your hairline and kissing your cheek; grinding his hips against yours and pushing them against the lip of the sink. 

The sun burned against your cheeks through the old glass of your kitchen window. You remember in your old house, your dad used to have a vine growing over the sill of its window. There was a burn in your chest at how much you missed that vine sometimes. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt the hips press harder and teeth tugging your large sleep shirt off the side of your shoulder; Leon sucked so hard on your skin that you knew it was an instant bruise. You let out a whimper before you closed your throat to any other embarrassing sounds that wanted to slip past your teeth. 

“Leon,” From his name alone, from the breathy, whistling tone that flew past your lips and into his ears, Leon could tell that you wanted him to listen to you. He’s learned by now not to make you too mad in moments like this. 

His head lifted swiftly to your ear, and he whispered, “What’s up, lil’ sis?” There wasn’t mockery in his tone, but rather fondness at this point. Either way, he was teasing the waters. His hand wandered up into the valley of the stomach underneath your shirt. You could feel your knees wanting to quiver a bit. 

“Our parents-,” You try to reason. Your voice is even quieter, barely even speech (leaning more into syllables of breath, but Leon liked listening closely to you sometimes). You were beginning to tense and Leon could feel the muscles in your stomach clench in anticipation, in anxiety. In the warmth of the sunshine, with the steady rhythm of a faucet leaking into the mouth of a sink, Leon was fascinated by you. Every time he pressed his palms on you- when he touched you with his fingers or whispered in your ear, it reminded him how alive you were. How hot and toasty and breathing. 

“Already off to work, don’t worry your pretty lil’ head,” His voice was scratchy and unused, it was around seven and one could easily assume he just woke up. But his voice was also a line of cologne weaving through the air like a billowing scarf. Or maybe, it was smoke. 

“Please Leon, I’m tired. I just wanna go back to sleep,” Your head tilts back and lays heavy on his shoulder, your back completely leaning into his chest. Your nose was softly exhaling against his neck, and you almost felt the urge to giggle at him when you felt a shiver up his spine. For the sake of his pride, you chose not to mention it, lest you start an all-out war between the two of you. 

Leon pondered you in the sunshine. “Wanna go to your room, then?” You nodded with the space you had, and you felt the arm keeping you up against him cross against your chest and gip the shoulder on your other side. He kissed you. “Let’s go,” He gives you the tiniest smile as you crack open your sleepbound eyes, and you give a small smile back. 

You two untangle, and find that when the house is empty it feels like your own little kingdom. No expectations, no responsibilities, no masks of comedy to portray to the theater. It was all okay, and the air was breathable and the whole house was light. You wondered if Leon was experiencing the same world, or if your brain was starting to jump the gun on this whole thing. 

Tiptoeing through the house like there was a sleeping dragon in each next room was fun, but being welcomed by the tranquil sort of quiet that your new room offered to you every morning was something else. You suspected that Leon was starting to like your room more than his own, but you tucked that thought down for when you needed to tease him. 

Your body hit your still warm bed, and you quickly tucked your legs back into blankets still molded by their absence. God, this was nice. Your eyes were still closed and your tingling skin was basking in the already-hot sun when a weight dipped your mattress right at the start of your hip, and still you kept your eyes closed when he crept under the blankets right next to you and lay a heavy arm on your stomach. 

Leon looked at you relaxing and found that he didn’t want to ruin it for now. Hell, he was sleepy too. He was always tired. 

You two would have mind-dizzying sex later. (You would). Now, it seems that you’ve caught Leon right in the middle of your trap, and he decided to hold you a little tighter when he smiled at the thought. 

--