juhiart

[sapphoshands]

okay. as someone who went into the finale not wanting agatha to die, not expecting a positive agatha/rio reconciliation, and not wanting agatha to be redeemed… what could i change about the finale that i would actually like? because the more i think about it, the more i hate the execution but am okay-ish with the outcome. 

(nb this is assuming that the obvious sequel setup goes ahead. if this is the last we see of agatha’s story i will haunt kevin feige for the rest of his natural life and beyond.) 

obvs i do not have access to budget, schedule, other notes, etc. but if i’d come in to these scripts at script stage, this is what i would’ve changed.

ONE. give us more ghosts. a whole bunch of what i really hated here makes more sense if we assume that rio hates ghosts because they’re out of her control (arguably set up but not made explicit). are they souls that escaped rio? give us a ghost in the flashbacks, or another line about them in agatha’s trial. in which case agatha ‘sacrificing’ herself to rio becomes: agatha delivered billy to rio as promised. her vow ended there, not when rio reaped him. so by getting billy to surrender, agatha made it so rio was bound not to see agatha after she died… a loophole agatha could use to escape, again, and endear herself to the boy who can shove free-floating souls back into convenient bodies, making him more subservient to her story. i think we got quite close to this and if (WHEN) we get more story, this is likely to become somewhat explicit. but it needed a bit more on the screen. 

TWO. give us more agatha/rio. not just from a shippy perspective. i think we needed: more establishing of their relationship (why does death love agatha enough to contravene the natural order of things for her?). more work and play: what was it like when it was good (and so fucked up in so many matching-each-other’s-freak ways). more explanation of what it means that rio has been ‘pursuing’ agatha and making her life hell (is this just agatha lashing out?). and frankly, we needed more flashbacks that weren’t just about motherhood. the show did such a good job of presenting us a balanced agatha and then threw that ALL out the window. 

both of these notes, i suspect, were at some point on the page and then were sacrificed to budget or to plaza’s schedule. fuck u megalopolis. 

TWO POINT FIVE. also, i would’ve added at least one flashback kiss. not just because we deserve it. but because i do not love lesbian bed death kiss and having another kiss would’ve mitigated that a LOT. that said, i do appreciate that they made sure to have more than one queer kiss in the show, at least. 

THREE. move nicky closer to the modern day. i get that this was to establish the ballad as long ago as possible, but the idea that rio and agatha had like… a normal human lifespan of love and then nearly three centuries of antagonism… isn’t sold in the rest of the story. this is probably my most fanfic rather than functional note. but even a 1790s ballad would’ve given agatha a good long history and given them a much deeper relationship. 

??? the thing i don’t know how to square is the darkhold red herring. i don’t mind that agatha’s deep dark secret is that she couldn’t save her son in a quite simple human way. but this still feels like a flapping loose end rather than a purposeful misdirect. why did the darkhold shield agatha from rio? is that why she sought it out? why did rio come hunting for agatha in the first place? 

also: still not sure about agatha’s control over her power and how that was/wasn’t voluntary. a more minor point but it would’ve been interesting to have that teased out a bit more. 

things i do love: the ballad being agatha’s. the road being billy’s. everything about agatha harkness. everything. agatha harkness, ghost troll learning to love objects and appear through walls. a future of death chasing her undead lover?? the practical sets. so many wonderful witchy women. the queerness of it ALL.

so we’re really not in a terrible place to keep going. if we’d had more of agatha’s manipulations and more of the backstory, i would feel so much less like this show took a sharp pivot in its endgame and we still could’ve ended up more or less here. and going through this process makes me feel a bit better because i can see the promise now. but i definitely also see where we missed out.

[ray935sworld]

Angry teen

(A pedrenzo de-aged story)

Dani was busy going over some data from the first Friday session in the KTM facility. He compared the results between Pedro and Binder with the track layout and the knowledge he had collected over the course of the active part of his career.

He was deep in thoughts, trying to figure out how to help his riders. So he didn't noticed when he was approached. "Ehm... Dani..."

He flinched involuntarily and looked up. Nami, a young woman working for KTM, stood there with a polite smile. The sheer panic that she was trying to hide with it was more than obvious. He didn't like that. It wasn't a good sign. It meant something wasn't going as it should.

"What happened?" he asked. "We... Ehm... We kind of got a little situation." She shifted where she stood. She balanced her weight from one foot to the other and her fingers were fidgeting with her sleeve.

"Everything okay?" He didn’t thought much about it. Maybe Pedro had decided to punch someone or something like that. He was used to a lot. "I don't know how to say it... It's... Jorge." He felt his heart slightly drop. And now she had his attention. As soon as he knew it was about his husband, he had enough with the bickering.

He knew it was probably an over the top reaction. It was an old habit from when they were racing. Hearing your boyfriend or husband was part of a ‘something happened’ story, often meant a hospital visit.

He was well aware that Jorge was old and mature enough to not get voluntarily in trouble or do something stupid. And the chances that he crashed during a session were small since he was sitting safely in an office commentating the events or annoying different team members with a microphone.

But after all... It was still Jorge. He had a habit of starting fights.

His voice dropped as he got up from his seat and asked "Is he okay?" He collected the sheets with a swift move, ready to go.

"Yes, he's fine!" The woman said quickly and relief flooded through his veins. "He's not hurt or something like that. It's just... He is here, alive, unharmed but he's... Ehm... slightly different"

Slowly he stopped understanding what was going on. With furrowed brows he turned to her again. He needed an explanation, this whole ordeal without a real answer couldn't go on even though she felt slightly bad for her. She clearly didn't want to tell him.

"Meaning?" The tone of his voice indicated that he demanded the truth. Now. "He is... Kind of... Ehm..." She muttered something while her cheeks turned a darker shade of red.

Oh god, what fucked up kinky thing did he do now? And how did he got caught?

"Nami, what fucked up thing did my wonderful husband do now?" he asked, losing patient with both her and Jorge.

"Jorge Lorenzo is 16 years old"

His mouth involuntarily opened slight, as he blinked a few times, like he tried blinking her words away.

"Sorry - he's what?!" he asked just to be reassured he had misunderstood her since the words didn't make sense. Jorge was 37 year old. He was pretty sure about that.

"I was sent to inform you. Jorge was found running out DAZN as a 16 years old, both physically and mentally." "He... He is 16 years old." "Yes." "So... No beard, no wrinkles and... No memories about... The whole last... 20 years? Our whole life-?"

Every high speed crash he had survived felt more gentle. Every surgery recovery had been less painful than this realization.

The thought that the love of his life had no idea about anything they did these past 2 decades felt wrong. It felt like a bad joke. Like a curse made to haunt him.

"Yes… I mean… Not really... He was pretty confused and disoriented about his whereabouts. Apparently he ran when Pol found him and basically sprinted down the grid until..." "Until- what?" "Aleix tackled him" "Aleix did what?!" "Jorge wouldn't stop running so Pol screamed to stop him and Aleix... Well, he stopped him."

Dani decided to say nothing. The whole situation seemed too unreal to even think about it. He couldn't deal with it properly. Not yet.

He sighed, trying to remember the 16 year old boy he once knew.

It wasn't really easy. He had seen him morph from one version into the other. There weren't really clear cut but it was an entirely different person.

The angry kid seemed long gone but apparently he was back. Now. Suddenly.

"Was he aggressive?" he asked silently. He hope he hadn't but he knew that it was unlikely. Violence used to be Jorge's first go to, to deal with situations.

"He threatened a few people and Aleix got a few hits but he laughed it off. Guess he's unharmed."

He tried taking the information in. They still seemed absurd. A 16 year old version of his husband had tried to make a run from his colleagues only to be thrown to the ground by another rider who he then hit.

He had to accept it to act accordingly. He took a deep breath, his mind still lingering at the image. He might be funny if the situation wasn’t that complex.

"Okay. Fuck it. Where is he now?" "They bought him back to DAZN" "Right. Let's go"

They didn't say much when making their way to the journalists. Nobody asked question when Dani slipped in the building. It wasn't exactly new that he came around to see his husband. Same with Jorge at KTM.

But this time, he was already expected.

"Dani, hey, good that you're here" Pol greeted him. "You already know, I guess?" "Yes. Is Aleix okay? He hit him?" "Oh yeah. Don't worry, Aleix is still laughing about it. But Jorge was kind of... Well..." "Aggressive. Yeah, I remember him"

"Izaskun is with him. She was the only one who could at least calm him slightly down." He nodded and Pol showed him where the two were.

He took another deep breath before he knocked. He heard a female voice answering and entered slowly.

First thing he saw was Izsakuns helpless smile. She was obviously relieved to see the Spaniard. She quickly stood up to make her way to him.

"Not really talkative and not trusting but he's okay. Confused. Talk to him" He nodded, not really paying attention.

He was too focused on the boy sitting at the window, staring outside in the paddock. Clearly in awe about the atmosphere, the countless people running around and doing their job, all with the track so close, he didn't pay attention to his surroundings. Or maybe he didn't want to.

The view was fascinating. It had something magical to be allowed to see it regularly live. But both Jorge and Dani had lost an eye for it after spending their whole life at the scene.

But this boy hadn't yet gotten familiar to the atmosphere. It didn't felt like his 2nd home.

Jorge was not older than 16, maybe 17. Overall he didn't look that different. His hair was longer and he had no facial hair. But his face had no trace of the past decades they had spent together.

It felt weird seeing him like that again. This sight was only something from an old picture.

He coughed slightly to get his attention. It didn't work.

"Jorge?" he tried softly "Go the fuck away!" he hissed without turning around. He looked down, his until then almost soft features got hard immediately. He really hadn't noticed that the man had entered. The awe in his eyes were replaced by a cold shimmer.

"I'm not stupid! I know you're all lying to me, you stupid cunt! Leave me-" It was then that he decided to turn around. He looked at Dani, his eyes going wide without a second in between. His mouth hang open and the older decided to smile.

"Hola, I forget what an asshole you used to be, Lorenzo" he teased, still grinning just to show him that he didn't mean any harm with his words. "Always rude and not believing when someone means well. Good that that changed by now"

Jorge just stared at him, his eyes bigger than ever before. It looked like he was about to say something but the words never left his mouth.

Dani used to moment to cross the room and sit opposite him on the window.

"That's not possible" he whispered shaking his head furiously. "You're... You're not... No. Fuck no. You're 18. You have to be 18!" "I was 18. A long time ago. I'm 39 now." "But - no. That's impossible. All this is impossible!" he decided and stood up.

He couldn't stand looking at Dani. It felt too wrong. He looked too much like the Dani he knew. The same face. The same posture. The same voice. The same hair.

He barely noticed the differences. The scars. The wrinkles. The grey hair. For him he looked the same and completely different and he couldn't stand it.

He was pacing around, expected to be stopped. He wasn't. After a few seconds, he turned back. Just to make sure he wasn't going insane and he had really seen what he thought.

"Are you Dani Pedrosa?" he asked just to be sure.

"You didn't really get that whole... 20 years in the future thing, did you? Or did you just straight up thought I died?" Dani asked trying to lighten the mood. "No! I... I just.. I mean, I... 20 years in the future sounds like a bad joke! You can’t expect me to just believe that crap!"

He nodded. "I know... Honestly, I can't imagine how you feel. This whole situation is a mess. No one really expected this." "What the fuck do you think it's like to me?! I was at home and then, the next moment I was here. I don't even knew where ‘here’ is. So I just ran and then suddenly this weirdo jumped on me and I was bought here... I thought they'll hurt me" he ranted, whispering the last sentence.

Dani heard it anyway. He froze at the confession. Jorge hadn't recognized any of them. He was chased and wrestled to the ground by a bunch of strangers.

He couldn't imagen the fear he might have felt in that moment. He shouldn't have felt that. They had meant. The Espargabros had just wanted to help him, but in the end, they had make it worst.

"No one is going to hurt you. I promise you." he tried reassuring him "Aleix - the weirdo that jumped on you - didn't mean to. He's kind. He would never actually hurt someone."  He only got a shrug in return. He didn't fully believe him. Not yet at least.

He spent a quick second thinking everything over. He had to act. He had to do something. Literally anything to make him more comfortable. Right now the boy wasn't trusting him. He was on edge, ready to run any second.

So he decided to show him, he was safe by simply trusting him. Why would he end up trusting him if he felt like he wasn’t being trusted?

"Alright, how about I get us something to eat? You can let the whole situation sink in and then ask me whatever you want. I promise to tell you the truth about the future. But please stay here. You don't want pictures of you like that floating the internet" "Eh-the what now?"

Right. Jorge was on the beginning of the 2000s level. "Something like newspaper but much faster and much more dangerous. Don't worry about it. Just stay here for a moment, okay?" "Okay" he groaned, clearly not happy, but accepting of his fate.

Dani almost expected that he'd make a run anyway. He quickly chatted with Pol and Izaskun, keeping them updated. They had informed KTM that he wouldn't be able to continue his duties for the day. He had to baby sit.

He bought pasta and was happy to see that Jorge hadn't moved from his spot on the window. Maybe that counted as progress

"Okay, I bought you carbonara. Or Pesto. Your call" As expected, reached the boy for the carbonara one. It has always been his favourite.

They started eating in silence. Jorge had started to resent the silence. He always had some music running or talked with whoever was around. But he refused to talk to the stranger lady. He didn’t know her so why would he? The whole situation was freaking him out. So now he had been quiet for quiet a while. And he was starting to dislike it. And he knew Dani so it only took a few digs until the curiosity in the boy was stronger than his reserved facade.

"Did you make it to MotoGP?" "Yes. 2006 was my rookie season?" "And... Never mind." he quickly looked down again. A blush was on his cheeks. "You jointed 2008" "I know I'll make it! I'm a better rider than you anyway!" "Self-confidant as always"

Jorge wasn't sure how to react. The Dani he knew would protest and argue. But this felt like mockery. And joking. But not in a mean way. He wasn't sure how to react to the older ones cheeky, almost challenging grin.

"Did I win a championship?" he asked instead. "I thought you're the best rider. You don't need the reassurance if that’s true… Or do you have doubts?" "OH fuck off! Just tell me!" he shot back and got a laugh in return. He was close to throwing his noodles at him.

He chose not to. But he considered it.

"You did..." Dani finally admitted. "In an outstanding season" "Yes!" he laughed.

"Do we still ride?" he asked more. "No. Hell, no. I retired in 2018, you at the end of 2019. I'm a test rider, you're a journalist. That's why you were here. It's the DAZN building."

He was satisfied with that. Happily he returned to his meal.

He was dreaming about the fights and what his future would bring based on that when the old Daniel asked "You know what I'm wondering?" He couldn't bite back his reply. "How to dye your hair?" He asked eyeing the grey spot on top of his head. It had been one of the first thing he noticed.

And the annoyed look he gave him, was easy for him to recognize. The Dani he knew always looked at him like that. He couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Dani responses with a chuckle as well. It felt good seeing the older man laugh. All his jokes and happy attitude helped him being able to actually talk to him and forget the incident earlier.

"But for real. What I mean is, are you the actually 2003 Jorge or are you're the 2024 Jorge but aged down?" Dani asked, getting him back to the ground of reality.

"What's the difference?" he wondered. "If you're the 2003 Jorge - where is my Jorge?" "Your Jorge?"  he questioned confused. The way he said it felt different. "My Jorge. From my time. This time."

He quickly added. He surely wouldn't have that conversation now.

"You mean... My 30- something year old self may be in my place right now?" "Not impossible" "That would means he's at my home... Weird." "Not much weirder than this" "Hey!"

"He'd be with my dad" he thought aloud remembering that he sat at his desk trying to understand some papers when he was suddenly standing in a corridor he never saw before.

"Fuck" "That's bad?" "He isn't exactly on speaking terms with your father. It's for the better. Trust me"

Jorge considered asking. But he didn't.

He knew his own father all to well. He had his own moots and could easily lose his temper. More than once had he considered running away just to get away from him.

But where should he have gone? If he went to his mother, he would have endangered her and his sister. He wasn't selfish enough to do that. And he didn't had any friends.

He would be on his own. And the thought scared him.

But maybe he would be able to get away from him in the future. It felt different. He had never considered a life where his father's present wasn't a constant factor like it was now.

He felt like his father was the one decided how he moved, what he do and how he breath. Not having that pressure was something he didn't even dare to long for.

He tried pushing those thoughts away. And perfect distraction was right in front if him. The next topic was literally glittering in the sun in front of him.

"Flashy ring" he commentated with a nod towards Dani's hand. He was wearing his rings, like always. "Didn't thought it's your style" It was made out of a thick, silver bandage, with maybe details, highlighted by some small colourful stones. On top was another, much more bigger diamond. All as real as they could be and sinfully expensive.

The KTM rider smiled as he looked at his wedding ring. Jorge had picked that one. At first Dani had been sceptical. He didn't really like those flashy rings. They just seemed too much. And paying that much money felt ridiculous.

But Jorge had told him, that he himself was flashy too. So if Dani had a flashy ring, it was like he had a part of Jorge with him all the time. A flashy reminder of his flashy husband.

In return, Dani had chosen a much more calm and simply ring for his husband. A simply reminder from his simple husband.

He had been afraid that he didn't like it but the younger Spaniard had been fascinated. And both had agreed that the rings looked beautiful and complete them in a way.

"It's actually not. My husband chose it. He absolutely loves those big rings. He said it's supposed to represent him. He's wearing one that's more my style" „Your.... Your... Husband?"

Jorge stared at him in disbelief. He obviously had expected a wife.

"Yes. My husband. Same sex marriage was legalized in Spain in 2005. My husband and I got married in December 2015." "That was almost 10 years ago. It's 2024, right?" "Yes. After 3 years of real dating... And some on and off before" "That's a long time" "It is and I couldn't be happier" he confused.

He watched Jorge moving his pasta around a little bit, without continue eating. He was contemplating asking or not.

"Am I in a relationship?" "You're married. Happily." "I don't believe you" Jorge whispered. His voice distance.

„What?" "How can I - I - be part of a happy marriage. It won't work. So I promised to never get married. Apparently whatever idiot I'm becoming is to delusional to see that"

Dani wanted to say something, defending his own husband, but he knew it'd be useless. It had taken years and many 2nd chances to stop Jorge from self-sabotaging their relationship. There had been many tears, arguments and screaming to get them where they were today. He wouldn't be able to fix this in just a few hours.

"Do you have children?" Jorge continued asking. "Not yet. We're planning to adopt two" "That sounds beautiful... Do I have children?" "No" "Good. At least something that makes sense" "What do you mean?" "Come on... You know me. I'd be a terrible father" "How about you grow up and then decide?"'

Again an old argument. He knew Jorge's fear of accidentally turning to his father's methods. For a long time he had suppressed his desire to raise children but Dani knew how much he wanted them. So they worked together. Like always.

He didn't get a respond and he didn't continue asking. It wasn't worth the energy.

Dani continued eating. He felt the young boys eyes on him, never completely leaving him. He acted like he wouldn't notice. But he did. Every few second, Jorge looked at him, like he expected him to change or disappear. Then he looked away only to continue a few seconds later.

When Dani looked up right when he looked at him again, Jorge felt caught.

"You look weird" he only muttered over his food as an explanation and Dani laughed out loud. He didn't even try to hide his grin. That was exactly what he had expected his husband to say. He was actually surprised he had waited this long.

"Thank you very much, Jorge. Very kind of you." he said while not looking up. Just to tease him a bit. From the corner of his eyes he saw how the younger one was moving in his seat.

"Why do you have grey hair? Aren't you like... Not even 40?" he asked eyed the grey strand.

It looked weird. It felt weird. It make the future seem real. They had gotten old. Dani had grown up. Dani was an adult and already retired. He was old. But the one he knew was still a teenager, barely an adult. He was his age. But still…

This would be his future. This was the man he’d be in 21 years.

"I'm 39" "It makes you look old" He saw no reason to lie.  "I wouldn't say I'm old but I guess everyone is old to a teenager" "Do I look old too?" "Mm?" "2024 Jorge. I hope I don't look like an old geezer like you"

"Firstly, ouch. Secondly, no. You look pretty young, if you have to know. You're very careful with your appearance" "So why do you have grey hair? Why look old? Or do you wanna tell me they banned hair dye in the future?" "No. But why would I dye my hair? My husband always said it'd look very handsome"

He decided to go for the truth. Maybe a little bit of exposure therapy and a glimpse of their life would help him seeing the future as it is

"Maybe he's right" Jorge added in his mind gut decided not to speak that thought as he let himself lingue at the grey hair again.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Dani turned to the door as a female voice said "It's just me, Izaskun" He looked back at the boy. "Is it okay if she comes in?" he asked reassuring and got a nod in response.

"Sure, come inside" he replied loudly. He heard a chuckle from the boy as he whispered barely audible "That's what she said"

He decided to let it go since he could not for the love of God find the strength to have to explain that to comment to the dear Izaskun. He had at least safe some of their dignity, even if the journalists was used to much more.

"Hey, sorry, I talked to the doctors, they agree to do some tests to check him over" she explain. "Thank you. We will be there soon."

"What doctors?" Jorge asked. His voice had lost the casualty it had when talking to Dani. He had grown a little more comfortable to the retired rider but now he was on edge again.

"Why? I'm feeling okay" He made a face. He would clearly prefer to do anything else. He sounded angry once more.

The woman smiles at him in loving way. "Oh it's nothing, sweetheart. We would like to do some test, just to make sure that whatever caused this didn't had any side effects" "Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking baby!" he spit. "I'm 16, bitch"

She blinked in confusion, taking a step back. She was taken by surprise by his sudden words. His tone was angry and full of honest hate.

Dani didn't like that. He turned to him in complete disbelief. "Ey! Don't you fucking dare talk to Izaskun like that. She was being polite. Be respectful."

"She talks like I don't understand what's going on! I'm not an idiot! I know what doctors do" He narrowed him, slightly pulling his lip up.

Dani subconsciously remembered that move. Jorge used to have a habit of showing off his teeth when they had an argument as kids. It seemed like an animal instinct. Like he wanted to seem dangerous and out of control. He was ready for a fight.

He gave himself a second. The boy was just reflecting all the hate he was taught. He hated being treated like a child, even when he was young. Or when Dani reminded him that he was the younger one.

It used to remind him of his father telling him to stop acting like a kid. That he should be grown up even if he was far away from that. That he should act like an adult even if he wasn't even 10.

This Jorge was closer to that environment. The sentences and the yelling was still deep in his head. It was echoing in his mind and reflecting in his action.

Dani had tried to fight fire with fire. They relationship almost didn't survive that. But now he knew how to handle it. He wouldn't repeat his mistakes again.

Calmly he leaned a little bit towards him. Just for a second, Jorge panicked. His instincts told him that he would be slapped across the face. He knew that he shouldn't have said that, but he couldn't help defending himself. He expected an according punishment. Even from Dani.

It’s what he was used to. Adults punishing children. And Dani was an adult. He was a child.

"You asked a question." Dani said in a simple voice. No anger behind his words which calmed the younger ones heartbeat. He looked almost confused as he realized that he wasn't been threatened. "She just answered. No need to be rude because she called you sweetheart or cause she gave you more information so you know what's going on. She's trying to help you. Okay?"

"But- She... I..." His words died down. He looked down, biting his lips. Dani's kind gaze was too much. He couldn't protest. "I'm sorry, Izaskun." he added and the older almost felt proud that he apologized without him asking.

"It's okay. No worries... I'll see you around, alright?" she offered smiling. Dani agreed, Jorge didn't say another word. They quickly said their good byes and Jorge tried covering his shame with asking what she would do now.

Izaskun smiled and told him about the preliminary report for the session. He nodded along and wished her a good day. He was at least trying to make his mistake better.

Happy about this development, Dani and he went to the medical centre. He saw it as a win that the boy was warming up to them.

Luckily, the next session was about to start so no one really paid attention to them lasso g through the paddock.

Still, countless people were running around them. There was loud music, yelling and laughing. Every corner was a new sound.

He felt Jorge move closer to him. It felt a slightly weird. There was a tension coming from the younger Spaniard, like he was about to grab his hand to avoid getting lost in the crowd but he never did. Jorge was still a kid, barely one season in the international championship. But he was taller than him. As always.

He could have at least turn into a version of himself that was tinier than Dani. But no...

They got inside quickly. They were already expected. "Ah, hello Mr Pedrosa, Mr Lorenzo. And I thought I wouldn't see you two here again. But this time you're bringing a really interesting cause." "I guess" Jorge muttered not really happy with the description.

"Please get in there. Is it okay if Mr Pedrosa stays with you? We need his agreement to some tests since he is your legal guardian"

Dani almost choked at the statement. This was not how this was supposed to go. It had all worked so well until then. Jorge didn't even had the shimmer of an idea. But now...

Jorge had sat down on the examination table and now looked at the doctor in confusion.

"No, he isn't my legal guardian. Why would he be? Obviously it's my father!" He turned to Dani. Suddenly there was fear in his eyes. "You called my dad, right? He knows I'm here. He's on his way. He's not angry. Right?"

Dani was about to hug him right here and there, just to calm him. He wanted to hold him close like he did so many times whenever his anxiety about his father resurfaced. But he couldn't. Young Jorge hated physical contact and he surely wouldn't make him do something he wasn't fully comfortable with.

"No. I didn't. And I won't." "Are you insane?! Call him! Now! You have no idea what you're doing! He'll kill me if I just disappear and-"

The way he said it, make Dani think he actually believed it. Like he fully believed his father might end his life if he disobey. It felt like a knife stabbing through his heart. It twisted and turned and hurt like a bitch.

"He abused you for years but he is not going to hurt you now. I won't let anything happen to you, neither physically nor mentally and he is a serious risk to both. I will not put you through that. Not when you're 37 and especially not when you're 16... You're safe here. I'm not letting you be with him in a room."

"But if a legal guarding is necessary than he has to know anyway. Call him. Please!" he tried arguing back. "We need your current legal guarding. Your mental age is not actually relevant to that." the doctor replied. "And that is Mr. Pedrosa"

"Okay why the fuck is it him? I doubt you adopted me in the next years. So what the hell are you hiding, Pedrosa?" "Jorge, I... I just didn't think it was appropriate for you to know... Since you're only 16" he tried to explain. By the way his expression darkened, he knew it was the wrong decision.

"You fucking liar. You stupid asshole told me, you'd tell me everything. You said you’d be honest with me. You lied! I trusted you!"

"Please give us a moment" Dani told the doctor, who apparently had only waited to disappear as he quickly left.

"Jorge, please. I just thought it wasn't the best idea -" "Tell me or I'll run away. What are you going to do then, grandpa? Mm?! I'm surely much faster than you!"

Dani nodded. Quietly, he reached in his pocket. He opened his porte-monnaie. An old picture of Jorge in 2012, just at the begging of their relationships, was smiling back at him. He wished he could have him back. He at least knew about them.

He took his ID out and handed it to him. He watched the confusion wash over his face. He took it, studying the pictures and the written details.

Dani knew he had seen it when his eyes went wide and he looked up.

"Daniel Pedrosa-Lorenzo Ramal" he read out loud. His voice slightly breaking. "Lo... Lorenzo. But... That's my last name" "Yes." "Does that mean... That..." "Yes..." he said expecting Jorge to get it.

"You married Laura?" Jorge asked, disgust evident in his voice and Dani couldn't help but burst out laughing. It was such a weird conclusion in an even worst situation.

"No! No, Jorge, I didn't marry your sister." he made a mental note to tell that his sister in law. She would have a field day with that once Jorge was hopefully back to his old self. And hopefully he'd get some jealousy sex from his husband.

"But... No. Wait you said you're in a gay marriage" he remembered and now it was clear that he started to pick up the pieces. "Since... And... But... Wait, are... Is that a coincidence? Fuck. No. Are... Are we... Married?"

His voice got silent. Like he didn't dare to speak out loud. Dani smiled at him softly. "We are." he said and nodded. "And as your husband, I'm your legal guarding. Not your father. Trust me, you don't have to see him"

He shook his head, his eyes closed. "How long?" „This year will be our 9 year anniversary" "Almost 10 years?" "Yeah." "But that means... You love me?" There was no real emotion behind his words. There was no shock. But neither happiness. Dani tried not taking it to heart. He just sounded confused.

"Why would someone like you love me? You're normal." He stared at him with big, honest eyes. He fully believed that he was unlovable. He wasn't even an adult and still he had made his peace with never finding love or getting married.

Jorge had told him that he never actually thought that he'd have a family. He had never seen himself worthy of having a family. He had often told him that he feared he would mess up and destroy the safety a home should bring. But actually seeing it right in front of him, was different.

The whole life they shared, their house, movie nights and weekly dates, there shared training and playful domestic life, seemed impossible for the boy. He rather assumed he was lied to then even consider it as the truth.

According to him, Dani's reality shouldn't be possible.

"Jorge-" "Why should you love me?!” His voice got more heated “I'm a maniac! I'm a danger to myself and others and you know that!" "Jorge-" But he wouldn't let him get a word in.

"I've hurt you. I mean even I hurt the younger version of you already so many times! And – And – with that long career, I surely… I - Oh god." His face turned white. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Jorge, stop it." He didn’t like the way this conversation was going. Whatever realization he just had, wasn’t good. "I hit you. I made you crash. I - I - Oh god. No. No, I... I hurt my husband. I – I really am like my father. Why would you do that? Why put up with me? I don't understand. I... I..."

"Stop. Breath, carino. Just -" "You hate me! And you should! I'm mean and an asshole and I scare you!" "No you don't." "Stop fucking lying to me! I know I do! You hate me! You’re lying to me and my adult self! Why?! Why pretend you love him?"

"Jorge stop!" he yelled. He needed to get his attention. And in that moment it seemed like the only option.

Anger bleed through his voice. The accusation of not loving Jorge, made tears swell in his eyes.

He couldn't help it. He couldn't hide it. It was too much. He loved his husband and he wanted him back. He needed him back. But until then he had to take care of the young Jorge.

"Shut up! Don't you dare talk about my husband like that, understood?! He is a great man and you have no right to speak about him like that! Or me. Or our relationship. Because have no idea what we went through!"

His voice had gotten stronger, more demanding and more angry.

One look at the suddenly scared eyes of the boy was enough to regret everything. He had yelled at him. He had lost his temper. And he had scared him.

Immediately he leaned back, to put some more space between them. He wanted to make Jorge feel safer. He would never put a hand on him. No matter how annoying he would get.

He would never hurt him.

"Okay, yes." He said, this time more calm. The emotions gone out of his voice. "Yes, I used to hate you and you hated me too. But both only partially. Only on track when we both were stupid... And yes, you used to scare me when I didn't understand that your anger didn't come from a place of hate but from fear."

He tried taking the hurry out his voice. He still had to keep him calm. He had to take him back in his right mind and make him forget his outburst.

"We've come a long way and trust me, it wasn't easy. We both changed a lot over the years. And I wouldn't trade that for anyone else who might have been easier." "But... I'm horrible." "You're not horrible. You're just 16"

"I... I even hate myself. Everyone hates me. Why should someone like you love me? You're kind. You're normal. You're not... Like me." "Listen... You're a child. You don't need to have your feelings in order yet. It’s part of growing up. Just know that now you're already amazing and the young Dani adores you. In his own ways."

He thought back to the first time he saw him. Back then, Jorge had cleaned his bike before a session. He had done it himself with so much love and care, that Dani could only wonder how carefully he'd treat a human he might love even more than his bike.

He had seen him play with his little sister when she was visiting him in the box. He always seemed much calmer when she was present. He never yelled with her near. Not even once. He had picked her up and whirled her in circles, both laughing loudly. He had placed her on the bike, helping her with her position and making bike sounds to which she giggled.

He had watch him reassure his mother that he was okay after he had crashed. It was a small gesture. A short moment of vulnerability. He put his head on her lap and let himself feel her safety for a few seconds.

All those moment had young Dani proven him that the mask of the rude asshole Jorge was just self-defence. It was just a facade to protect the Spaniard against the world.

And Dani had taken his times, years actually, to slowly break it down to reveal the real Jorge.

"And in a few years, once you learn how to accept yourself and deal with what your father put you through, you'll be spectacular. Extraordinary. And kind... My Jorge is the most perfect human I know."

"Liar!" he hissed. Dani had hoped his words would help him. But it didn't. Instead, he just looked more angry than before. "Jorge-"

"I don't know what your FUCKING PROBLEM IS!" he yelled, stating at him like he was planning to break his nose. Maybe that wasn't even far away from the truth.

"But you have NO RIGHT to do this to me! You have no right to tell me all this bullshit and expect me to believe it! I trusted you and you - you - you bullshit me like this! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? will never change. Never! I can't. Okay?! I WILL NEVER CHANGE!"

Dani didn't even flinch as he yelled at him. He just accepted it. He took it in, not giving it back again. Maybe blowing off some steam would help him.

"We all change. That's part of life. You won't be an angry teenager forever." he promised.

"You're scared and confused. I understand that and-" "I'm not fucking scared!" he hissed back, leaning in darling. His gaze was lingering on the man, like he expected him to fight back.

"Yes, you are. You are a scared little boy that appeared in a time where everything you know isn't true. You are scared and you turn to anger." "Fuck you! You don't know me! You know nothing about me! Maybe you know me when I'm old and weird but you have no idea about me. Me"

He nodded slowly. His memories were turning in his head.

"You desperately wanted to stay with your mom after your parents divorced but you told her you hated her for breaking the family apart so she wouldn't feel guilty for not taking you with her because you needed to stay for racing."

He watched his face fall. It was a secret he never shared.

"You always wanted a dog, a husky, but you were too scared to get one while racing because you want to take proper care of it. You'll call it Lumi."

It seemed so childish and far away, that Jorge hadn't even really admitted it to himself. It just seemed impossible and he didn't dare to dream.

Still the statements were true. They knocked the air out of him.

"How... How do you know that?" he asked with a unsure voice. "Because you told me." he explained. "Why would I do that?" He smiled at him in a sad way. "Because you know - you will know that I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help you and I'd do anything for you."

Jorge looked at him in disbelief. For him it seemed impossible. To trust someone else on a level that he told him his darkest secrets seemed like an unmanageable task. And why would he? There was no need for anyone to know what his dog would be called or what an asshole he had been.

But still, he had or will tell Dani. He will trust Dani like that. He will show Dani his soul, expecting it to be saved.

"You may not know me and that's okay. You will. But I know you. And I can't let you destroy yourself like that. I won't leave you alone with those thoughts. Never. I didn't do it back then and I won't do it now"

Jorge just nodded. He wasn't sure how else to respond.

“Okay.. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about anything else?” “No… I’m okay” he answered. “Alright… I’ll call the doctor back” Dani said and he left for a few seconds after another nod from the boy.

The doctor came quick. He explained the procedures. They would do several brain test, testing his physical health in general and taking his blood. This time Jorge didn't try fighting Dani agreeing to the test after checking with him. He had no question and just let his surroundings happen. He got quiet. He barely reacted and only gave short answers.

Dani watched the whole thing with growing worry. Maybe he shouldn't have been this persistent. Maybe he should have left him alone instead of trying to get to him. But then again, he had needed it. Jorge had needed the talk.

But he had no right to yell.

Jorge on his behalf was still watching him the same way. Even during the examinations, his gaze always wandered to Dani. He watched how he turned around when Jorge was asked to pull his shirt off. He watched how Dani asked some more questions about the tests. And he watched Dani’s gaze when he asked him if he was really comfortable with the tests.

He was watching him cause he was trying to understand him. It was difficult. His words and behaviour didn't seem to make sense. He was too nice. And there was no advantage he could get from putting up with him. So why bother?

He tried to realize the meaning and a part got what the older Spaniard had said. He was nice to him because he cared about him. But the other side of him was just confused about it. Because why would he?

He wasn't sure yet which part would be stronger.

A few hours later, they left again. Jorge had the confirmation that be was completely okay. A healthy 16 year old with nothing to worry about. Which was good. Except that he should be a more or less healthy 37 year old.

And from what the doctor had told Dani, no abnormalities in the test, meant no real chance to get Jorge back to normal soon. They would have to do many test. For many years. And even then nothing was guaranteed. So Dani started to wonder if letting Jorge do countless test where he would be treated as a Guinee pig or some scientific wonder, just for nothing to come of it, was the right decision.

Maybe he – or they should just accept it and learn how to deal with the new situation. Dani would take care of the young Jorge, not as his husband.

He had a lot to think about as they went through the paddock. Not just in terms of reversing whatever happened to the Spaniard, but Dani also felt bad for how he dealt with Jorge's anger.

He should have known it came out sooner or later. He could have told him about their relationship and not put him on a spot like this in a doctor’s office. But he hadn’t dared and as a result, he yelled at the kid.

They were back in Dani's trailer by now. Jorge had barricade himself in their bedroom, reading something and rewatching the sessions of the day.

By now it was well last track action and there was no need for him at KTM anyway.

Dani had managed to put his thoughts in order. Having a young Jorge here was like having the past right in front of him again. Like he was haunted by the things that nearly destroyed them. Like he had to fight for his relationship again and again.

But this time, he didn't know how it would go. If Jorge didn't turn back, there was no relationship to safe. He wouldn't date someone half his age, even if he waited for the boy to turn 18.

The thought alone made him creep out about himself. He shook his head. Never in a million years was this an option.

He would help young Jorge and treat him like a son or younger brother. That was out of the question for him But nothing more.

The realization felt like he had already lost his husband. Like Jorge was gone and would never return. Alone the fact that this was a real risk, hurt him more than anything else. It felt like he buried the love of his life.

He didn't want to think about it. He wanted his Jorge back.

But he had to put his wishes back. He had other, more important things to deal with. Seeing the angry teen going numb like that, worried him. He wanted to take care of him. He still loved him. But differently.

After a few minutes, in the kitchen, he went to the bedroom and knocked. It took a few seconds until he got an answer. He quietly entered, putting the mug he prepared down in front of the boy on a small table.

He looked tired but eyed the porcelain curious. "What's that?" he asked. "A hot chocolate for you"

And the way his eyes lit up, was all he needed. His husband has always been and would always have a sweet tooth.

Negotiating with Jorge after a hot chocolate was the easiest. His mother in law had taught Dani that and he was grateful for her tips.

Dani sat down next to him, as he quickly took a sip. "Thank you" he muttered. "Always"

As the boy leaned back, biting his lips, he barely dared to look at him. He wondered if Jorge had expected that he would want to talk about it again. Knowing his Jorge, he probably did.

After one of their rare fights, Jorge had a habit of staying close to him, initiating physical contact and words of affirmation to make sure that he and Dani were okay. It was like a secret check to see if he still needed time.

"I'm sorry Jorge." He tried. "I didn't mean to yell at you in that office. That was wrong. You didn't the deserve that."

"Is okay" He muttered and Dani couldn't help but disagree "No, it really isn't. You're a child. I shouldn't have lost my temper. It's just... Hearing you talk like that about my life... About the person I love so much... It hurts and I just... I miss my Jorge."

The boy looked at him. His eyes had gotten slightly more sad at that. "Sorry I'm not him" he scoffed, avoiding his eyes. He wanted to gather his anger but he couldn’t. He was too tired and he didn’t want to be angry at Dani. "Sorry I'm just me"

"No, you are not doing that" he said, pulling him in a soft side hug. There was no resistance. Instead he felt Jorge lean against him and put his head on his shoulder. He took it as an acceptance of the touch.

"You are not turning this against me. You are not my Jorge. But you also are not not my Jorge. Hell, you are so much like him, it's scary" "But... I'm... I'm insane" „You're a teenager. Everyone is insane as a teenager. Especially those riding motorbikes for a living" he laughed.

The tension eased. Jorge just smiled softly. Both seemed to quietly agree that they were okay. That no one was angry at the other. They both knew everything they said was just in the heat of the moment, spoken without real anger.

They stayed like that, Jorge’s head leaning against Dani’s shoulder. They continued watching the move Jorge had started. Soon they boy grew more and more tired. He was close to falling asleep

The older Spaniard made sure not to move until he was sure the younger one was fast asleep. Then he carefully moved him a little so Jorge was laying down and under the covers.

He caressed his hair one last time and smiled. “Good night” he whispered. He was about to leave when he felt fingers around his wrist. They grabbed him without real force. It was enough to make him pause.

"Hey, everything okay? It's just me" Dani asked. "Whe-Where are you going?" he asked. His voice already half asleep.

"It's okay, you'll sleep here and I'll take the couch. I'm gonna be just in the next room" Dani explained. "But... We... We could share" "I don't think that's a good idea." "But... You're my husband. Shouldn't we... So where's the problem?"

"You will be my husband. Or would be. Were. I'm sorry Jorge but the situation is very different now. That's why I'll take the couch. You're a teenager in a vulnerable position. I'm not going to take advantage" "But it's not taking advantage if I'm offering. I mean-" "Jorge, you're 16 and I'm almost 40. I'll take the couch." he said this time more insisting.

Those green eyes could convince him to do much. But this was non-negotiable. He wouldn't share a bed with his past lover when he was just a teenager. It was off limit.

Jorge was off limit.

And Dani would respect that, even if it made him feel like he was burying his husband while he was laying in what used to be their bed.

He turned to leave. He made his way to the door when he heard a softly muttered "I'm sorry". Dani almost didn't catch it, buried in the cushions.

He suddenly remembered how Jorge had explained his father's punishments once. It included just leaving him alone for a night or a few days, right in the middle of the argument, leaving Jorge on edge for what was about to come.

He would be like in a mine field with his father not talking to him, but he could start yelling, hitting, kicking at him, any second for what he did.

Dani didn't mean to scare him like that. He didn't want him to overthink their interaction and fear Dani would put a strain on them. He shouldn’t fear that he would try avoiding him the next day. Or that he'd be angry. He had to know that Dani would still be there for him and make sure he was as comfortable with their situation as possible. Whatever that meant.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and smiled. The light of the hallway illuminated his facial features slightly. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean anything. I promise, tomorrow will be just the same"

With that he went to sleep as well.

It wasn't really sleep. He spent the better part of the night tossing and turning around, his mind torturing him with losing hope to reverse his husband's condition and memories of him.

He remembered what he would lose if Jorge stayed that age and grew up again.

He would lose the men he spent his whole life with. No more waking up together, sharing their day together. No more kisses and hugs like he was used to. No more bad jokes.  

Could he really handle that?

Could he give up all this? Could he handle watching the boy that used to be his, growing up, probably racing once more? Could he handle watching him try and crash? Could he see him live a life without him?

He would have to. He would have to see all that if he wanted to support him. Could he really deal with that?

Or would he ultimately abandoned him? Would he not be able to look at him? Would all he see was his husband that he would have to bury his mind? Would it drive him ultimately insane? Would he do something he'd regret?

He feared his thoughts. He wished sleep would come to silence them, but he had no luck.

He remembered how they got together. Dani had once again broken his bones and Jorge had wanted to check on him while he was sulking, which ended in too much alcohol, too honest stories and falling asleep on each other.

He remembered their first date when Jorge had put all his thoughts in what Dani enjoyed. The older one had expected him to ask him for dinner in some fancy restaurant with food he hadn't even heard off. Probably in a tailored suit. He thought he would bring him there in a flashy car.

Instead he had invited Dani inside his house where he offered him a home cooked meal, with candles and music. A CD from Dani's favourite band.

They later went for a walk and got ice cream. They spent the whole night talking like they never did before. There was no distance between them. No gap, no rivalry, no passed fights haunting them.

They were just two normal person, going for ice cream, sharing childhood stories and laughing together.

Dani loved everything and couldn't help but kiss him stupid and the way he blushed gave him the rest.

He was falling hard and quickly.

He remembered their first time and Jorge publicly joking they would get married only to tell him in secret that he was being honest.

The proposal and wedding followed quickly afterwards.

Of course, they had their ups and downs. Many fights.

Once they were almost on the brink of divorce when Jorge was desperate for any angry reaction after Honda had revealed Jorge's contract announcement for 2019.

Dani didn't had a heads up. He silently accepted it and for months, Jorge was waiting for the inevitable fallout.

He was on edge and tried annoying Dani even more, so he would get angry and let the suppressed anger out.

Dani refused. He wasn't really angry. Just sad. He knew he would retire soon. The racing was getting too much for his body. But this wasn't what he worked his ass off for. He hadn’t gone through all this to be kicked out the team. 

Still. It might have been the best way to retire.

His mind screamed at him that even without an accident and after surviving all those crashes and hospital scares, he still wouldn't grow old with his husband.

He had done everything. He had archived everything. He had a great career, with more influence and respect than any other rider that never won a championship in the highest class. He had earned a lot of money. He got married.

He was living the dream.

But his husband was gone.

He felt tears stream down his face.

"Why?" he whispered in the darkness. "Why universe? Why always me? Why him? Why play this sick and twisted game when I need him so much? Oh I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and I hope you lose whatever you love the most too."

He wasn't even sure why or at who he was angry. He just was.

By now he wasn't even sure if he had already sleep. It felt like he fell asleep every few minutes.

He couldn't even place the time when he was once again woken up. But now it was because of a door and footsteps.

Dani wanted to cry. He really didn't need to be reminded of kid Jorge.

"Dani?" And now his mind decided to give him his old voice back. It sounded just like it used to, a lot higher and more mature then it currently was.

He wanted to cry out loud, but he couldn't. So he just turned around, facing away.

He was holding his breath, hoping the boy would think he was sleeping and leave again.

"Amor, I... Are you there?"

It was like a slap in the face. He cursed his mind. He wanted it to stop. He felt tears in his eyes and a sob left his chest. His brain had given the teen the slightly darker voice of his husband. And let him call him by his favourite nickname.

He couldn't be strong anymore. He couldn't hold it in. Not anymore. Not yet.

 "Fuck off" he whispered, his words barely audible under has crying. "Just leave. I... I don't... I..."

He blinked and felt his breath freezing in his throat. He finally looked at him. Jorge was kneeling next to him. His Jorge. His husband.

He had the beard he was recently growing. He was more bulky. He was bigger and taller. He was clearly not a teenager anymore. His hair was shorter.

Dani mouth went dry. That wasn't a child. Jorge wasn't 16. Not anymore. He was 37. He was the man that had gotten up with him the day before. He was the man who told him to get Pedro on track and keep him there before kissing him good bye.

"Jorge?" he whispered, still in complete disbelief.

"Mi corazon, hey, I... I'm here. I'm sorry, I can't really remember what happened since this afternoon" Dani wanted to cry out laughing. Instead he just continued crying. He sobbed hard and loud but now with relief.

He was back.

He reached out for him, feeling his skin and clothes. He was real. This wasn't a dream. He wasn't crazy. That was his Jorge.

"Oh god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dani. Really. Whatever I did, I'm terribly sorry. I won't do it again. I swear I'll make it up to you" "Oh Jorge" he sobbed and leaned over to him, sneaking from the couch and instead in his lap.

He was hugging him close, pressing himself closer and closer against his chest. He buried his head in his neck and sobbed even more.

He could feel the familiar strong arms around his waist that were holding him safe and in place. He felt protected. There was nothing that could hurt him now. Not when he was there.

"Fuck, I missed you so much. Oh Jorge, my Jorge, you have no idea how much I missed you" "I'm here. I promise I would never ever leave you. Not in a million years" "B-But you left. You... You were..." "And I make my way back to you, didn't I?"

He kissed his head carefully. He still didn't understood what was going on. He assumed a nightmare had whatever fight they had, worse than it actually was.

It didn't make sense, but he couldn't remember anything since the afternoon. He was at dazn, in the middle of the day and then... He woke up in the middle of the night. Alone. In their bed.

And now he was sitting on the floor, holding his crying husband close, trying to figure out what was going on.

"It's okay, Dani. I'm here. I'm always here... Please, let's go back to bed. Together." "Jorge..." "I... I can't sleep without you. Please. I'm sorry. I-"

"No" he sobbed but this time he managed to laugh a little. "God, you didn't do anything wrong, carino. And you didn't do anything stupid. I... Oh god, you're back" "What? I don't - understand." "Doesn't matter. You're back and that's what counts."

"Dani... I would never leave you. I'm sorry but I can't fucking remember what happend since this afternoon" "I'll tell you everything later. Now... We're both here. That's all that matters."

Jorge agreed silently by picking him up, lifting him from the floor and carrying him back to bed. Dani clinged even closer to him now. “Thank you for giving him back, universe” he whispered inaudible.

As they laid down together, Dani made a point in cuddling in as close as somehow possible. He smiled. And that was more than enough for Jorge to post one any question.

An explanation didn't matter now. All that mattered was that his husband was okay and happy.

And apparently the best place to do so was on his chest.

[yatsurinamikaze]

Into the Fire (Mafia AU!)

Yakuza! Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Summary: Your asshole of an ex breaks up with you out of the blue. Fortunately, your brooding mysterious new neighbour becomes a welcome distraction. What happens when you realize you’ve left one nightmare, only to fall into the arms of something far more dangerous?

Chapter 2: We need to talk.

3 months earlier.

It was just another cold, gray, miserable Wednesday. You’d had one of those days where even the coffee didn’t hit right, your computer froze three times, and your publisher had the nerve to schedule a last-minute meeting at 4:55 p.m. Just as you dragged yourself back to your small, cozy house in the cul-de-sac, phone in hand, it buzzed.

"Hey… Y/N. We need to talk."

Ah, the dreaded “we need to talk.”

You braced yourself, knowing that Shirabu was about as emotionally complex as a wet mop, but this call caught you off guard. Ten minutes later, you found herself gaping at your phone, the call abruptly ended, and with it, your relationship. “I’m just not feeling it.” he’d said. Simple. Cold. Like canceling a freaken dentist appointment.

And just like that, he was gone. No explanations, no reasons—nothing. It was brutal, sure, but not exactly heartbreaking. Shirabu had been the safe choice, the “good on paper” guy. And you’d invested real time, real effort. So yeah, it stung—a little.

You shuffled into your kitchen, slammed the door with a little more force than necessary, and let out a groan that echoed through the empty room. Grabbing a spoon and the emergency ice cream stash from the freezer, you took a seat by the window, muttering to yourself.

"Goodbye, Shirabu," you grumbled, pointing the spoon at the frozen dessert like it could somehow understand your pain.

The universe, apparently, found this scene ripe for more drama because, just then, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Across the street, a moving truck sat parked in the driveway of the small, dark house that had been vacant for months. You leaned forward, squinting through the window, and saw a tall figure unloading boxes. You hadn’t seen his face yet, but his clothes stood out: all black, from his dark coat down to his boots. He moved with a cool, almost intimidating air—like he didn’t want anyone approaching him, and if they did, he’d probably glare them into submission.

Then he turned, and you saw him clearly: dark hair, piercing eyes, and a black mask covering his face. And if that wasn’t enough to intrigue you, there were two small moles on his forehead, giving him an air of mystery that felt out of place in your quiet little neighborhood.

Curiosity took over, and you decided to step outside under the pretense of “taking out the trash.” You carefully strolled down your driveway, doing your best not to look like you were snooping, just as he happened to walk around to the front of his driveway. You glanced over casually, trying not to be too obvious.

And then… you tripped.

Your foot caught on a random stone, and before you knew it, you were pitching forward in what felt like slow motion. Your arms flailed as you tried to catch your balance, but fate wasn’t on your side. Down you went, landing with a loud thud on the grass, a leftover piece of trash in your hand waving like a white flag of surrender.

To your horror, Mr. Mysterious had stopped, arms folded as he watched you with what looked like mild interest, his head cocked to the side as if he were trying to solve a very confusing puzzle.

"Are you… okay?" he asked, his voice low and, surprisingly, a little amused.

Mortified, you scrambled to sit up, brushing off grass from your clothes. “Yep! All good here! Just… you know, measuring the length of my grass. One more inch before I cut it!”

He didn’t laugh, but you could’ve sworn you saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. Straightening up, he nodded slowly, like he was weighing his words carefully. “Glad to know you’re thorough with your inspections.”

You offered a sheepish smile, standing up and trying to salvage what was left of your dignity. “Well, you know… it’s important work.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Who was this guy? And why was he so… mysterious? There was something unreadable in his gaze, like he was always in his own head.

"I’m Y/N, by the way. And, um, welcome to the neighborhood."

He looked at you for a moment, then, almost reluctantly, introduced himself. "Sakusa Kiyoomi." His voice was quiet, controlled, like he wasn’t used to talking. Up close, he was even more intimidating—tall, broad-shouldered, his presence calm but somehow intense. And that mask, half-covering his face, made you wonder what kind of secrets he was hiding behind it.

Just as he nodded to you, a loud, metallic creak echoed from the moving truck, followed by a sharp crash as a stack of boxes toppled over in the back. Sakusa didn’t react, standing there with the same unfazed expression. Finally, he glanced at the mess, then back at you.

“So much for first impressions?” he asked dryly, the hint of a smirk barely visible behind his mask.

You chuckled, biting back the ridiculous urge to make a joke. “Yeah, I think we’re both off to a rough start,” you sheepishly said, glancing at the chaotic pile of boxes.

“Looks like it,” while he didnt smile, you saw the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly. He nodded and swiftly turns around. And just like that, he was gone.

Let me know your thoughts! Im sorry I haven't edited it. Taglist is open. :)

[tyinghershoe]

This with bakugo except yall aren't dating and he has a lil crush

I died laughing reading this. I couldn’t NOT write this out.

Bakugo finds out that you’re telling people he’s your babies father.

Above all, Bakugo is flustered!  

Sure, the first shock arose a hint of anger and embarrassment - as expected when your crush is telling people all sorts of things - but afterward, there was an underlying feeling of giddiness, a type of glow as he thought about how “holy shit, y/n talks about me? I'm on their mind?” 

So, it’s safe to say that he isn’t ENTIRELY bothered, but he is confused. You talk here and there sure, being a part of the same friend group does that, but there was never and inclination that feelings were reciprocated, nor has there ever been a moment that could lead to, well, the current gossip you're spreading around now (He doesn’t want to this too much about this aspect though). 

Now here he is, sitting down in the common area waiting for you to walk right in (you come in every day at exactly 5:28 to watch a show with Mina! Not that he memorized that or anything) so he can hopefully get an answer out of you. 

As expected, there you are. Trotting down to sit on the couch while holding on to your favorite snack, you brought the smaller bag this time, which means you won't be staying down here for long. Actually, you won't be staying here at all, as Bakugo stands up the moment you two make eye contact. 

“Y/n, we need to talk,” he says, choosing to ignore the slight shake of his voice. The confused look on your face is all he needs to know, as he does his best to keep a calm attitude. Stay cool, Bakugo! The last thing he wants is for you to think that you’re just as much of a nuisance as his other friends.  

“Sure.” Confused as you are, you still walk towards him as he strides slightly away from the couches and into a more private area. This is for his sake only, as you seem unaffected by his cryptic commands.  

An urge to stay calm sits in the back of his head, and he turns to stare into your eyes. 

“Hey.”  

“...hey?” 

FUCK! He thinks - that wasn’t what he planned at all! “Was that too casual? Should I just be straight up? She probably doesn’t even like me, screw it.” 

“Why are you telling people in your baby’s father?” The twitch of his eye goes unnoticed, and only now does he realize that the situation is as stupid as it seems. There's an echo in the hall, adding amplification to the tension. 

You however look at him nonchalantly and shrug your shoulders a bit. 

“I don’t know. Bored as hell.” 

That’s all that comes out of your mouth, and for a split-second Bakugo thinks that maybe you really are a nuisance, or maybe Denki accidentally fried your head, only that can explain this reasoning. 

“That’s it? You’re telling people that because you’re bored?” He gasps as if that explanation isn’t good enough (it really isn’t), but you are undoubtedly you - so the chuckle that escaped your lips is one of obvious reasoning. 

“I mean what am I supposed to do?” It’s as simple as that, really. It comes off as almost factual: the sky is blue, the grass is green, Bakugo is the father to your baby.  

“Study, train, use a different dude for your damned rumors.” His voice is laced with grit, but the faint hue of pink that is laced onto his ears and cheeks is noticed by you.  

“Like you’d let that happen!” You challenge. 

 His voice hitches for a second. He wants to scream at you, say that “Obviously I wouldn’t! That bastard you’d pick wouldn’t even compare to me! Have fun having an ugly baby with whoever comes next!” but all that comes out is a simple scoff, “As if.” 

You just smile, and feign innocence to the fact that you know he’s jealous. He sighs and looks at his shoes for a minute, grumbling something softly. 

“At least let me take you out first.” the words are so faint you swear you’re hallucinating. But the shifting of his body lets you know it isn’t a joke.  

“Really?” A smile is etched onto your face, and that “unbothered” attitude of yours quickly folds, showing your true excitement. 

“Yes really!” he begins abrasively, “If you’re gonna be spewing some of your weirdo stuff, then at least let me go out with you for real. The last thing I want is some more rumors.” The excuse is aggressive and simplified, but it’s good enough for the both of yall.  

A nod of your head is all he needs for approval, and finally, he can breathe. 

“Tomorrow?” You ask softly, as it is now your turn to act coy. 

Theres a hum of approval, and he turns to leave – which is for the best, there’s only so much giddiness two lovers can take. 

“Tomorrow.” 

He walks away. 

“I’m not retracting what I told everyone earlier!” the halls echo, but it’s now a reminder of the turning chapter. 

Check out my masterlist here!

[deiaiko]

#21 - Wall

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[leona-florianova]

I wonder what was the thought process behind making Zazie the Beast represent themselves as a darker skinned individual wearing something evoking kinda native american (or culturally any other colorful “non civilized”) clothing...And how they arent even a parasyte puppeting around a human body, n are more like a projection over a bunch of alien crane flies in a trench coat. Like... I get that the people making the show wanted to make it extra obvious that Zazie is indigenous to the planet, but cmmon.. where would the worms get culture like that from. Why would a worm wear beads and a feather insect wing in its hair, why the decorated loincloth? Just because it looks cool? I GUESSSsss.... 

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[ohitslen]

OOOOH CHAPTER THREE IS UP!! ✨✨✨

In today’s chapter of “Easy to care, easy to love ” we have first impressions! Perpetually confused Vash and Woowoo! And oh is someone already getting a little smitten?? Read to find out! 💖

[halfbit]

i am getting started on productivity for the night but haven't figured out yet if i want to write or art first and there's also the tiny part of my brain that just wants to stare at kabru until it is ok to stop staring at kabru

[fangswbenefits]

Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!” 

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed. 

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur. 

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…” 

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.”

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed. 

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise  and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods. 

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance. 

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind. 

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others. 

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately. 

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles? 

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…” 

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body. 

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return. 

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity. 

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls. 

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished. 

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration. 

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you. 

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and 

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

[finelinevogue]

OMG imagine kit and reader begin co stars in something and people making those compilations of them that are like “____ and ____ acting like a couple for 12 minutes and seven seconds straight” 🤭🤭🤭

oh im SOOO on for this🤭✨

the compilation

summary - you and kit are secretly dating but the fans are too perceptive and make a montage of your flirtiest moments

pairing - kit connor x co-star!reader

🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧🎥🫧🎬🫧

The video started with a short video of Kit being filmed for an interview, where he had to describe his co-star.

“What do I think about Y/N in 5 words?” He asked the man behind the camera.

The reporter confirmed the question and waited for Kit to respond.

“I don’t think there’s 5 words that are good enough.” Kit mumbled to himself but the microphone attached to him picked it up.

The rest of the people in the interview room swooned, but Kit was too busy trying to come up with a good enough answer to see.

“Okay…” Kit sat up straight, ready to answer properly.

“Kind. I know it’s a basic one, but it’s just true.”

“Funny. I’ve never known someone who could make me belly laugh before Y/N.”

“Compassionate. No matter how hard Y/N’s day is, you will always be granted a hug.” Kit laughed at that one, hearing how cheesy he sounded.

“Unpredictable. I feel like that needs no explanation.”

“And….” Kit smirked then, the camera zooming in on it, as he tried to think of an appropriate thing to say last, “I’ll go with safe.”

“Safe?” An interviewer questions.

“Yeah.” Kit responded with no intention to explain himself.

Once you watched the interview you would know exactly what he meant though, because you felt just as safe with Kit as he did with you.

🌊.

The next few clips were a compilation of videos that had been secretly recorded of you two from set or from friends.

The movie you’d been filming together had been a romance, which had only magnified your relationship seeing as you’d actually met through a mutual friend; Joe.

Joe would argue that he was the reason you were together. Kit would argue that it was his charm solely that got you together. You would argue that it was a bit of both, just to keep the peace.

The first clip that played was from a day that you visited the Heartstopper set.

You, Joe and Kit were all laying in “Nick’s” bed, laughing at something that Kit had just said. It must have been ridiculously funny because the next thing that happened was you rolling off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a thump.

Kit had rolled to try and catch you but the thump on the floor suggested otherwise. The situation only made you laugh harder.

The second clip was something from Joe’s Instagram story, where he was filming a group of you walking down the River Thames. You were hitching a ride on Kit’s back, his arms around your legs that were wrapped around his waist. Your arms dangling around his neck and your cheek pressed against his.

The third clip was on the set of your new movie together.

You were both in Kit’s trailer and practicing some lines.

“You said you didn’t care!” You shouted, playing your character Rosa.

“Well I lied. I do care.” Kit shouted back, looking from his script to your face, playing his character Oscar.

“You’re insufferable.” You groaned.

“I’m sorry that me trying to figure out my feelings for you is insufferable.”

“F-feelings?” You questioned, your voice going quieter.

“I thought I was being obvious.” Kit chuckled, “Did you not think that there might’ve been a reason I cared that you kissed Danny?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I cared because I wished you’d been kissing me instead.”

Then Kit broke character and launched himself on you, pretending to kiss you all over. You were belly laughing as Kit crushed himself over you, pushing you into the leather sofa that you’d been sitting on.

“Kit get off!” You laughed and then the video cut, leaving the viewers to question what happened next and curse whoever had decided to stop recording.

🌊.

The video then cut to an interview you’d done together and it had gone viral mainly for the way Kit had been looking at you throughout the whole thing.

It had been a normal interview and yet Kit had been feeling the extra love towards you that day, so he sat and watched you answer lovingly.

There had even been a point where he got caught, but that hadn’t worried him.

“And Kit? Your answer?” The interviewer asked.

He looked from you to the interviewer, realising he’d been asked something.

“Oh I’m so sorry. Could you repeat the question please?” He laughed it off, as did you and the interviewer.

“I was just wondering what attracted you to the role of Oscar?”

Kit hummed with a smile, forcing himself to not say your name as the answer. You nudged his shoulder to pull him out of his head.

“I think….”

🌊.

Then there was the interview where you’d been really anxious in.

It had been a rubbish day from start to finish, mainly because the anxiety weighing on your chest had been so heavy all day.

It was in an interview close to the end of the day that the small, intimate, moment came from.

“And I think that’s why we resonate–.” The interviewer was talking.

“I’m so sorry, can we stop for one moment please.” You interrupted in the most polite way you could.

“Yeah of course.” The interviewer nodded, sitting patiently.

It was not unknown that you suffered with anxiety, in fact you were pretty open about it. Why hide something that was such a huge part of you, especially when you were in a position where you could help break the stigma surrounding it.

Kit swerved his body so the cameras could no longer see you, just see his back. He knew the cameras would keep rolling and your mics would stay on, but he was trying to do whatever would be most comfortable for you.

“I’m sorry.” You could be heard saying.

Kit’s hands could be seen moving around to meet yours, both of your hands situated in your lap now. You’d often spoken out about how physical touch can ground you in these situations.

“No. Don’t be sorry.” Kit said, waiting for you to give the signal on whether he should or shouldn’t keep talking.

“Just felt a panic attack coming and I wanted to calm it before it actually came.”

Kit nodded.

“You did good. You’re doing good.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

It was at least another three minutes before you felt okay enough to mentally return to the room. Kit turned back around in his chair, but kept ahold of your hand with his.

You apologised to the interviewer again, but she was completely fine with it and the producers had allowed her to regain her allotted interview time.

“Would you mind keeping that footage? I would quite like to share it to show that even ‘celebrities’ can feel like rubbish sometimes.” You laughed, Kit squeezing your hand in the process.

“Of course.”

“Ready?” Kit asked you once more. You nodded and the interview continued, Kit holding your hand for the rest of it and then for the rest of the day.

🌊.

The video ended the same way it began.

It was a similar interview to Kit’s, where you got asked to describe Kit in 5 words.

You couldn’t help but smile, because you love sharing the love so much - especially when it’s about your boyfriend who you care about a lot.

“Loyal. He’s so loyal to his friends and family.”

“Kind. He has so much love in his heart and he always shows it in the little moments.”

“Artistic. I don’t think he would agree, but he is.”

“Magnetic. Kit just attracts anyone and everyone to him, you can’t help but love him.”

“And one more?” The interviewer asked.

You pondered for a moment.

“Grumpy. You would not believe how much of a grump he is in a morning.” You laughed, not even thinking about the repercussions of admitting that you see Kit in the mornings.

It’s not a surprise that you’re both trending the next day and there’s a million theories about you two. Hence why the compilation video is made.

[ddejavvu]

can i request spencer reid w bau!reader and their married but reader forgets to put her wedding ring back on and derek’s asking spencer about what happened/if theyre having marital problems and spencer starts panciking but she just forgot about it in her pocket😭

Derek's brow is knitted in real, authentic concern when he corners Spencer in the BAU's kitchenette, and it turns Spencer's stomach. Usually, Derek has a teasing glimmer in his eyes, but it's scarily absent today, and he braces a large hand on Spencer's lanky bicep.

"Pretty boy," Derek starts, and his tone is soft, soothing, kind, "Anything you wanna talk about? I'm here if you need me, y'know."

Spencer tries feigning calm, which is terribly hard to do as someone who's fraught with nerves constantly, but he keeps an even tone when he speaks.

"I don't think so. Should I want to talk about something?"

Derek smiles sympathetically, almost a grimace, and Spencer feels a flash of fear run through him. Has Derek heard something about his mom?

"I don't think anyone else has noticed yet," Derek assures Spencer, "But I saw Y/N's not wearing her ring."

It's not what he'd been expecting, dreading, but it's not pleasant either. Spencer's eyes dart hurriedly to your hunched form, shoulders bent and crowding your desk as you devote yourself entirely to your paperwork. Sure enough, your wedding ring is absent from your finger, leaving an uncomfortably blank space on your skin, and Spencer's brows knit together.

"I didn't know," Spencer admits, keeping his voice to a low murmur, "I- But- we aren't having any problems. I don't think."

Derek shoots that awful pitying grimace his way again, and Spencer shakes his head, his stringy hair flying.

"No, no- we're not- we're not having problems," He asserts, but he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Derek more, "I mean, we bickered about coffee this morning, but not- not marriage problems bad. She just forgot it."

Spencer knows what expression will be on Derek's face if he looks, so he doesn't. He busies himself with stirring the rest of the sugar into his coffee, excusing himself before Derek can press the issue even further.

On his way out of the kitchenette he snags a donut from an open box on the counter, slipping a napkin beneath it and trying not to rush to your desk. He doesn't want to seem obvious, but he's a flaming bundle of nerves.

"Angel," He gets right to the point, placing the donut beside your hand on the desk and leaning over the back of your chair. He nestles his cheek to yours, pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw and blocking your conversation from view of the bullpen with the way he shrouds you from behind.

"Spence," You begin, alarmed at the sudden ambush of sugar, both literally and figuratively, "What-?"

"Are you mad at me?" He asks, sounding rather like a child worrying to their parents. You're only more confused after his question, and you tentatively shake your head.

"No? Should I be?"

"I don't think so," Spencer hums, "But you're not wearing your ring."

You blink, glancing at your bare ring finger.

"Oh!" You gush, your shoulders pressing back against his own as you maneuver your hand into your pocket. It's difficult sitting down, but you retrieve the ring and jam it back onto your finger, "I took it off earlier because I was taking the trash out. I didn't want it to get all goopy, and I guess I just forgot it was in there." You let your explanation hang in the air for a moment, but your eyes flash with sympathy, remembering Spencer's initial question, "Oh, Spence, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," He breathes out a shaky sigh of relief, reluctant to straighten up from where he's hugging you from behind, "You didn't even freak me out. Morgan did."

You laugh, and the sound soothes those frayed nerves in his chest, the ones that had lit with sparks of panic at Morgan's pity, "Well, don't listen to Morgan from now on. However," You reach for the donut, tearing it in half and holding one end out to Spencer while you catch the other between your teeth, "If it means I get donuts in apology, maybe I'll forget my wedding ring in my pocket more often."

[p0orbaby]

What are we? Alexia being a bit of commitment-phobe and not wanting to label an obvious relationship that everyone can see is happening. Decides to make things up and lie about their relationship to her mum and friends, which hurts her ‘not girlfriend’. But of Alexia having to win her back and show she wants to commit! Bit angsty but happy ending!

-

“We’re just keeping it casual,” Alexia says, with a shrug so nonchalant it could win an Oscar. You nearly choke on your drink. Casual. As though she hasn’t spent the past six months monopolising your bed and half your wardrobe, leaving her things scattered around your flat like you’re an exhibit in some weird, unofficial museum of her life.

“Right,” you mutter, stabbing your fork into a salad leaf with just a little too much enthusiasm. “Very casual. That’s why your mother keeps texting me recipes and calling me la nuera”

She laughs it off, the same easy, practiced smile she uses on journalists when they ask about her Ballon d’Or wins. “You know how my mami gets,” she says, as if her mami is the problem and not the fact that she still can’t seem to utter the word “girlfriend” without a nervous twitch.

The final straw is at dinner with her mates. “So, how long have you two been together?” someone asks, and Alexia—because she has all the emotional intelligence of a plank of wood—does that annoying little shrug again. “Oh, we’re just seeing where it goes.” You can practically hear the record scratch, and suddenly, the dessert menu in front of you is the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“Right,” you say again, this time out loud, because there’s only so much ambiguity a person can take before they start googling “how to remove yourself from a situationship.” You leave the restaurant half an hour later, and Alexia doesn’t realise what she’s done until you’re halfway out the door.

It takes her two weeks of radio silence and one panic-stricken midnight voicemail for her to show up at your place, all awkward smiles and rambling explanations about “not wanting to ruin a good thing” and “needing time to figure it out”

“Figure what out?” you ask, arms folded. “How to admit you’re in a relationship with me without spontaneous combustion?”

She fumbles, then finally blurts, “Okay, fine. I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot. I just… didn’t want to mess things up by calling it something and then—”

“Mess things up?” You stare at her, incredulous. “Alexia, I’ve met your family. I’ve been to more team dinners than your manager”

“Exactly!” she exclaims, as if she’s stumbled onto the meaning of life. “So I’m saying it now, okay? You’re my girlfriend. Happy?”

You make her sweat a bit longer, though. Let her scramble through some grand gesture involving a bouquet that looks like it was ordered for a wedding. And when she finally introduces you to her mother—again, for the third time—as her girlfriend, you lean in and whisper, “Took you long enough”

Alexia just grins, and this time, there’s no shrugging.

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[hyhkai]

choi beomgyu — surprise!

[ 🥞 ] where beomgyu, your dumb puppy boyfriend is down whenever you are.

cw : face sitting + riding (?), they were watching one piece, sub!gyu, slapping/smacking, dirty talk, cum. let me know if there's anything I should add because I'm bad at cw's <3

a/n ; not proofread and tumblr didn't save my first draft. i hate life. inspired from a porn video I need to detox my brain and go on an exaggeration of a long walk and fade into the dusk.

eyes focused on the screen as episode 367 played on the tv, nami forcing the chipmunk zombies to tell her where the real treasure is as your eyes got drawn over to beomgyu, sitting on the edge of the bed as he looked down at his phone, scratching his neck and ruffling his hair.

there's only one explanation as to why your eyes are off the anime. he's so fucking sexy.

shifting in the bed, thighs pressed close against one another as your attention kept being off the show and how you wanted to have his perfect too perfect of a face between your legs.

contemplating what to do about your sudden arousal, your mind wandered off to the night of not watching episode 86, and him climbing into the couch with you and muttering with the most horny tone, "if you're down, I'm down. if you're done, I'm done."

oh well.

you sat up, hands playing with the hem of your shirt as you contemplated whether to do this or not.

fuck it.

he's a loser for you, and he's down all the time to the point where he's growing back into his era of teen hormones.

it wasn't long before your top was off your shoulders, and you'd made the headboard into a buttress for your back as you took your pajamas off, eyeing beomgyus back as he played some game.

you were so eager to get bare, yearning to have his mouth all over your thighs. in fact, it was very obvious the moment you entered just how much of a dumb puppy he is when his expression was filled with the fact that he wanted to push you onto the couch, pull your pants down to see the wet patch on your panty that's so obviously there. <3

it's almost laughable that you're bare and your one hell of a horny boyfriend doesn't even know. you huff, a grin plastered as you crawled towards him, causing the bed to jitter.

he was about to turn and look what you're up to, but was soon vehemently shoved into the mattress as you pulled him down, climbing onto his face and holding his hands.

oh he's grinning isn't he.

"oh fuck baby." he mumbled coherently enough as his face was pulled to your clothed pussy like opposites of a magnet. he only made the wet stain in your panties worse, and did so until your clit was traced into the cotton. god really made a sin when he created your boyfriend.

it's almost a crime because he's too too too pretty for his own good. he placed his hands over your thighs and wrapped it around, palming your ass. "lift your hips for me, baby." he mumbled into your pussy. it was whiny, causing you to almost fold and want to do a sixty-nine with him.

you bucked up your hips, and his finger slid your panties to the side as he tilted his head, and his lips latched onto your clit. "h-hah. g-good boy."

he moaned into your pussy, his dick was already pressed up against his pants, his hips bucking into the air and only getting sliding friction; not static. he shook his face, nose bucking up into your cunt, causing your eyes to close shut and lips flatten into a line of pure satisfaction.

his fingers were lurking around your hole, not pressing in but just enough for you to push yourself down onto his body. you let out a moan before you could stop yourself, his tongue swirling around your mess and two fingers right that were contemplating on whether to give you what you want.

"now that's a wet pussy." he mumbled, eyes downward as he stared at your arousal. "h- just fuck me." you mumbled as your fingers scrunched his tshirts fabric between them.

he let go at the tap of your fingers on his forearm, you getting up to turn around— and what a fucking view you got. dumb, dumb beomgyu, laying there as the mute tv's changing lights made his face glisten with your pussy. nothing to be bothered about, he likes it when his face his smothered all up in his favourite girl's pussy.

you gripped on his hair, and your knuckles almost went white when his tongue met your clit. it wasn't fair, his eyes so doe when he looks up at you, his tongue so mean when he eats you out.

"sweet." he kissed your pussy, and thank god you weren't at your apartment, these lewd noises could end up in a discussion with your neighbours. his breath hitting your core, tongue swirling, and yet he tells you he doesn't know how to eat pussy.

"h-hah, beomgyu, you're sure you don't know how to d-do this..?"

"take what I offer, baby." as he licked your nub.

he said something into your pussy that came out so incoherent it was just a vibrating sensation to you. you thought you were almost lost in the moment. almost? you were lost. other hand now on his forehead as you bounced and rubbed yourself all over his face. "y-yeah. take it, boy. fuck. h-hah.." you slapped his forehead to which all he did was laugh at your assumption of how he's the pathetic one, when it's complete antithesis.

his situation wasn't going to be any better than yours anymore when his hips were already thrusting into air whilst he ran out of oxygen. did any of you two care? absolutely not.

starting to get closer and closer, you were already going at it on his face, grinding on his nose and mouth while mumbling all sorts of curse words when he slurped all of you; like the dumb puppy he is.

"h- beom— beom, close. okay?" you said under your breath as his hands were starting to grip his own cock from above his slacks, rubbing himself but not completely, not wholly enough for his own orgasm. and why rub one out when you will be doing it later on anyway?

"on my face, ugh, pleasepleaseplease." he groaned when you did just that, cumming hard. hands pressed into the mattress above his head as you rub yourself sideways onto the homogeneous mixture of your fluids and his spit and saliva as he licked it all up, whatever came near his mouth, he swallowed. "filthy boy, i- ha, hah..." and one good, harsh pat on his head as you grasped his locks again, looking down as you got up.

you laughed at the sight; pretty, shiny beomgyu. literally. a sight that only you and the associates who deny your entry into heaven witness. who cares, he's so pretty.

"good boy." you mumbled as you used his shoulders as support when you plopped down onto the bed.

he opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering to reveal his pretty iris's. "kiss?"

I could write an entire post on why this is bad. I was bored. i apologize for taking your time. ok actually I have absolutely no idea what came into me when I wrote this but I wrote it so hahahahah my bad I'll delete it and disappear.

[slayfics]

You hide your injuries from Katsuki.

900 words

Your phone buzzing on the couch did little to interrupt the deep nap you had fallen into. Two pain meds deep and daytime television lulled you right to sleep.

[Katsuki] Dropping off some stuff at your apartment for when you’re back home.

You have been lying to avoid seeing Katsuki for weeks now. All due to the state that a villain had left you in. Shattered rib, black eye, broken arm. You knew it was inevitable that Katsuki would find out. Yet, you held out as long as possible.

In what fantasy did Dynamite’s partner get beaten up by a villain this bad make sense? Not to mention the villain got away from you. You just couldn’t face Katsuki like this. The shame was too heavy.

You loved Katsuki to the depths of your bones and would die to make him proud. Having him find out you failed and got this badly broken up from some dumb villain was unforgivable.

Your first lie was that you were sick and couldn’t see him. But then he tried to drop off food for you. So, you had to make another lie- you were away on a mission.

That worked until now. Katsuki pulled out the keys from his pocket latching them in the door. His intent was to set up your apartment with fresh groceries for when you got back from your mission. A complication you may have been able to avoid if you didn’t fall asleep on the couch and miss his text.

The front door to your apartment opened and you stirred in your sleep.

“Dumb ass left the TV on,” Katsuki mumbled seeing your daytime television. Walking over to shut it off he got a glimpse of you, passed out on the couch. “What the fuck?!” He exclaimed, snapping you out of your sleep.

You sat straight up alarmed by someone being in your apartment. Your eyes shot wide open at the sight of Katsuki standing in your living room, remote in hand.

"You're home?!" Katsuki stated confused, eyebrows furrowing together. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?!" His eyes scanned over your broken body. Cast on your arm, left eye almost swollen shut. "What the fuck happened to you?!"

"Katsuki I can explain," you said, getting up off the couch to approach him.

"No! I don't want any more of your fucking lies," He snapped harshly, backing away from you. "Away on a mission- why would you have told me that if you've been here all along?! Were you even sick?!? The hell... if you... don't want to see me anymore- have the fucking guts to say it! Don't... string me along like this!" He yelled.

"No! That's not it!" You exclaimed stepping closer to him still.

"Then what is it?! I- Why would you hide this from me!? I thought I was the first person you'd come to but-," his eyes scanned over your injuries again. "You didn't come to me- even when you look like this? You- clearly don't need me," He decided.

"No! Katsuki isn't it obvious!" You yelled feeling your emotions heighten. "I'm fucking embarrassed!"

"Embarrassed?" Katsuki repeated, bewildered by your explanation.

"I didn't want you to see me this way!" You clarified.

"What the hell happened?" He questioned.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You knew eventually the truth would come out, but this was more painful than you'd imagine it would have been.

"Tell me," he said darkly, a command not a question.

"A villain," you said simply. "They... got away. I... didn't want you to know... you're Dynamite... you can't be dating someone that gets this beat up by some low-grade villain... I- didn't want you to be disappointed, or... find out I'm not good enough to be with you."

Katsuki let out a breath he didn't notice he was holding and took a step forward closing the distance between you two. Wrapping his arms around you, he brought your head to rest on his chest.

"That's- the dumbest shit you've ever said," he said softly. "You're a hero- and a damn good one. Hero work is tough, it's unavoidable we're all going to get beat up sometimes. That doesn't make you any less worthy or- a failure. You're tough as hell and... I'm proud as fuck to call you mine. So- don't ever say that dumb crap to me again." He concluded, squeezing you.

The pent-up anxiety exited your body in the form of soft tears, burying deeper into his chest you finally let it out. Katsuki rested his head on yours providing comfort while sitting in your emotions with you.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled into his chest when the tears lessened.

"Got nothing to apologize for," he said bringing you to look him in the eyes. "Understand?" He asked, you nodded mesmerized by the softness and devotion reflected in his eyes.

Katsuki moved a hand to push your chin and guide your lips to his. God, you missed this, the feel of his plump lips pressed against your own, the promise of security his embrace provided. You could have stayed like this forever, letting the stress you've been bottling up fade away.

However, Katsuki pulled away too soon, staring into your eyes once more. The softness in his eyes contorted into something you'd never seen before. Something dark and sinister.

"Now tell me... everything you know about this villain," he demanded.

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