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iholdwhatican · 2 days

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tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste.

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony.

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.”

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump.

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen.

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly.

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.”

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him.

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth.

“What happened out there?”

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.”

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen?

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.”

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.”

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen.

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine.

That expression was clear, resolute competition.

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it.

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it.

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?”

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.”

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.”

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it.

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.”

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.”

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.”

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.”

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him.

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed.

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together.

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter.

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you.

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes.

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party.

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything.

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused.

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him.

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face.

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing.

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.”

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?”

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?”

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.”

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up.

“You care about me?”

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth?

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.”

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-”

“I wanna help.”

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly.

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed.

“How much do you need?”

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.”

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping.

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?”

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this.

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.”

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap?

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.”

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.”

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger.

“Then tell me what you need.”

“What do you think I need?”

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.”

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?”

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating.

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again.

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?”

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.”

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.”

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling.

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words.

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off.

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs.

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his.

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar.

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please.

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him.

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he.

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss.

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning.

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp.

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his.

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks.

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut.

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text.

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist:

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@yesimwriting

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#challengers #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #challengers fic #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x patrick zweig #challengers x reader #challengers x you #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig #tashi duncan #charly writes!!

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bambi-slxt · 2 days

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Could you write something with Matt or Chris (or both!) and a chubby/not petite reader? I don't see a lot of those and would really appreciate it!

Doesn't have to be smut, it can be more in the style of your non-binary post or love languages. Thank you!

oh honey. of course i can.

chubby!reader:

✨a concept✨

a/n: i'm not petite and i never have been. this post is not intended to cause body dysmorphia to those who are, but rather promote and uplift those who have more fat on them than what's normally represented in the fanfiction space. i hope you enjoy this one anon!

doing their makeup at a sleep over -

chris: "yeah, come on, sit on my lap. no, seriously. i don't mind. come here, mamas." *kisses* "there we go. now put this shit on my face before i change my mind."

matt: "you were saying something about hooded lids? yeah, i don't think i have those. what do you mean people have different eyelid shapes. what the fuck. you have to look up different- jesus christ i'm glad i don't fuck with this stuff."

watching a scary movie -

chris: "i never shoulda' agreed to this. what spell do you have me under? i hate you. no like actually." *holding your hand for dear life and also shaking like a chihuahua*

matt: "-genuinely fucking terrifying. what? why do I have to be the one who tells you when it's over? i don't wanna look either!" *long-suffering sigh*

swimming -

chris: "i don't want you to look like a model, i want you to look like you. you look real, and you feel real...when i look at my girl all i see is how beautiful you are. no, i'm being serious. especially wearin' the stuff i bought you."

matt: "it's just us, darlin'. i've seen all of you before. i know what you look like, and i love you because of it. get in the water so we can play mermaids."

clothes shopping -

chris: "what the Actual Fuck are these designs. this is the plus size section? what a waste of space? i'll make you better clothes. yeah, i'm serious. you like my brand better anyway. jesus christ, i'm sorry."

matt: "...is this really what you want to wear? no? okay so let's leave. yeah, this isn't your style at all. i don't care, i'll shop with you all fucking week if that's what it takes. you're not gonna settle on this shit if it's not what you want."

going to the gym -

chris: "come on, you got it. i know it hurts but you're almost done, come on. don't you dare stop, there we go...there we go, you're good, you're good, get some water...that was a new PR baby, i'm so fucking proud of you. hell yeah, you did so good...damn i don't even think i can get that...fuck you..."

matt: "why the fuck would we go to the gym when the bed is right there? absolutely not. we can work out in my bed-"

streaming together -

chris: "no we're playing fortnite, get on here. i don't care. we've played fallout all week i wanna play duos, pleasepleaseplease-thankssss. yeah we can hop on stream. nah, they love you. trust. you wanna get ready first? i think you look great, but it's up to you, mamas. i want you to be confident, you know that."

matt: "if they have something to say i'll just rip 'em a new one and kiss you on stream. yeah. no i'm dead serious. there's my girl. come on, let's play."

boyfriend hoodies -

chris: "course it fits. i got bigger ones for me so you could steal them. you're such a thief. i love you. what? i didn't say anything..."

matt: "i'm gonna freeze. no no, take it, take my only source of warmth. i'm not bitter. come here lemme cuddle you i'm fucking cold."

a/n: hope you like this nonnie!

request to be on the taglist under this post right here, make sure your mentions are on!

tags: @selenascorner @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog @sturniologals @quaxkingshs @certifiedstarrr @sarosfilms @mattsfavbigtitties @slutforsturniolos

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666writingcafe · 1 day

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An Overgrown Puppy

Cerberus

It's really lonely down here.

I understand that most people are scared of a giant dog with three heads, especially when it's as loud as I am, but I don't mean them any harm. I can't help that I get excited easily.

Of course, when they start calling me names, that makes me angry. I suppose that's why I'm in this cavern in the first place: too much destruction on my part.

Still, it would be nice to have someone that wasn't afraid of me.

"Look, there's flowers bloomin' all over the place!"

As much as I want to begin jumping for joy, I must remain calm. The last set of people that came down here wanted to hurt me. I ended up with a couple meals out of the ordeal, but I wouldn't want to go through that experience again. For one, they tasted rather vile. It took me ages to get that out of my mouth, and even with that I can still taste them sometimes when I burp. It's rather annoying.

"Look how pretty we are..."

Oh no. Not the flowers.

Instinctively, I close all six of my eyes. If I can't see them, they can't tempt me, and my mind can remain clear.

Oh for fuck's sake!

That's not my voice. It doesn't belong to the other two heads, either. No, this belongs to someone else entirely.

This was meant to be a solo venture, but nooo. The brothers just HAD to tag along and make this more difficult for me. As it is, I doubt this creature is going to submit to me, anyway. I don't have anything it wants, but somehow Barbatos is convinced that I do.

Barbatos? They know him?

I like him. Unfortunately, he's too busy to take care of me properly, but he at least seemed sad to have to lock me away like this. Still, orders are orders; while the prince is a lot kinder than the king, he still has to worry about the fate of his people, and I've done too much damage to justify me continuing to walk free unsupervised.

Footsteps.

The flowers are still murmuring, so it's not safe for me to open my eyes and see who it is.

Oh. It's you. Hello, Cerberus.

Why are they acting like they know me?

They smell familiar.

Don't be ridiculous. We've never even met them before.

Listen, I know my scents, and I'm telling you, I recognize this one.

Here we go again. My left and right head arguing again. It doesn't help that one can see into the past while the other one into the future. Makes for way too many philosophical conversations that frankly give me a headache.

Then again, they do make sense sometimes. Like right now.

Let him sniff them.

Thankfully, the flowers shut up at this point, so I can finally open my eyes and see this person for myself. They're rather small. Maybe they would make a good appetizer, but chances are, they wouldn't fill me up, so there's no point in even trying.

The being before me extends their hand out towards me, and I lean down low enough so that my right head can sniff it.

MC! I knew it was you!

What's a person from the future doing here? Don't they know that their presence is going to change the timeline completely? They won't be able to return to the same place that they left.

That's a risk I was willing to take.

They can hear us?

I'm a little surprised myself. I thought our connection would be nonexistent here, but I guess you still know who I am. At least, part of you does.

I most certainly do! You give some of the BEST belly rubs and treats ever! Plus, you always come and soothe me whenever I can't sleep. I've missed you SO much, MC. It just isn't the same without you.

Please tell me they don't end up abandoning us. The idea of a good belly rub does sound nice.

No, no, nothing like that. In the timeline that I come from, you're primarily someone else's. I just help take care of you whenever I swing by to visit.

Oh, PLEASE! You're more than a mere caretaker. You're like my adoptive parent at this point. If I knew I wouldn't scare people up in the human world, I'm SURE we'd spend more time together, but as of right now, that simply isn't possible.

I can sort of follow along with the idea this MC being a human and yet appearing like a demon in this moment, but what I don't understand is this: if they don't end up being my owner, then who does?

This guy.

I totally didn't see him walk in. He's rather imposing with his wings spread out like that.

LUCI!!!

"Luci"?

It's short for Lucifer.

"Zephyr, what exactly is going on?" Lucifer asks, frustration evident in his voice. "Why are all of you down here in the first place? This isn't a safe place for you to be in. At all."

"Well, I came under Barbatos' instructions. Can't say the same about your brothers."

"Bullshit."

"You are more then welcome to talk to Barbatos yourself if you don't believe me, but I'm telling you the truth."

"Then why didn't you tell them to go home?"

"Because Mammon wanted to do something that would cause the other demons to finally shut up. He's tired of you all being treated like shit simply because you used to be angels." Lucifer slowly blinks in shock. "Believe me, I had every intention of sending them away, but I also wasn't about to argue with Mammon when he's that passionate about wanting to improve your situation here in the Devildom."

Six more demons appear, but they hover around the entrance, too afraid to step inside. Lucifer turns his head and looks straight at me, appearing deep in thought. It's clear that he's not the same person that my right head recognizes. Not because of his appearance, but rather his personality. He seems way too cold and rigid to love an animal.

Then again, I've heard that sometimes, those that appear that way end up being the ones that care about others the most. Maybe he's just putting up a emotional barrier at the moment, and he'll open up eventually.

"I suppose there's not room for him at your place, is there?" Lucifer finally sighs, maintaining eye contact with me.

"Unfortunately, no," MC/Zephyr answers. "And I don't want him wandering the woods by himself. He could get hurt." Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I really don't want to do this, but he seems rather attached to you, and it would be cruel to leave him here without knowing if and when he can see you again." He pauses. "He can stay at the House of Lamentation with us, but he's your responsibility, Zephyr. I don't want to hear you complain about having to take care of him, and you're certainly not going to push him onto one of us. If you can't manage that and still complete your duties as our attendant, then I'll have no choice but to put him back in here." MC/Zephyr nods their head.

"Understood." There's a slight glint in their eye, but either Lucifer doesn't notice it or is simply choosing not to comment on it.

It doesn't really matter in any case, because I'm about to be free of this cave! Oh, to breathe fresh air again!

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me cerberus #obey me mc #obey me lucifer

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welcometololaland · 23 hours

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i've been squirrelling away at both eurotrip and the ring-in 2.0, but i never know what people want to see? and for the last few weeks i've gotten in such a flap i just gave up and didn't post anything lol. but here's something that made me smile from the ring-in sequel <3 (also i finished eurotrip ch 10 so YAY!) thanks @strandnreyes @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @suseagull04 and @kiwiana-writes :)

“TK, I promise you,” Owen insists. “It’s a total chick magnet.”

TK appears to choke on thin air and then points to Carlos. “Have I introduced you to Carlos? My husband?”

Owen rolls his eyes and claps TK on the shoulder. “Turn of phrase, son. It means you’ll look good.”

“Yeah,” TK mutters. “Right before I realise that the fabric is so old it has holes in it and my extremities fall off from frostbite.”

“Carlos?” Owen says, redirecting his attention, although his hand remains on his son’s shoulder.

Carlos clears his throat. “Sir?”

Owen grimaces and turns back to TK. “Did you just say you married this man? He’s still using honourifics.”

open tag +

@rmd-writes @celeritas2997 @reyesstrand @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript

@ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom @nancys-braids @captain-gillian

@chicgeekgirl89 @terramous @hippolotamus @bonheur-cafe @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@basilsunrise @birdclowns @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @safeaswrites

@three-drink-amy @theghostofashton @tellmegoodbye @carlos-tk @goodways

@never-blooms @sugdenlovesdingle @decafdino @eclectic-sassycoweyes @kiwichaeng

@doublel27 @cha-melodius @sanjuwrites @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @lightningboltreader

@vineofroses @myheartalivewrites @indestructibleheart @she-walked-away @americansrequiems

#seven sentence sunday #the ring-in 2.0 #911 lone star #welcometololaland

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lvl10gojocoper · 3 days

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Motion Sickness: Chapter 1

Synopsis. Slowburn-ish, Heavy angst, pining because you're losers, inaccuracies and stuff, mature language. Note: lots of plot building in the first parts :)

Pairings. Gojo x Reader

a/n: My first JJK fic or work in general. I'm a slow reader of the manga but I've seen spoilers already. Safe to say I wanna avoid acknowledging Shibuya Arc from existing and onwards. Maybe a bit (or a lot) of inaccuracies but let me cope!! + idk how to tag on tumblr so yolo.

Chp.1 Chp.2

It's hard to breathe.

I only had one thought I could fully register at that moment. My lungs consume as much air as it could in the short moment I'm so graciously allowed.

I palm at the rough ground and watch as the asphalt's gray turns darker from his shadow. Tall and menacing. My heart beats faster when the sound of his footsteps gets louder, closer. I look up—I was right, he is close.

His face is unreadable , looking down on me. I stay looking up at him, even through the bandages covering his eyes, I know he sees me. He sees me very clearly. Neither of us choose to look away.

I grunt, forced to look down as the pressure of his foot crushes my hand under all his weight. I taste blood in my mouth. I don't know if its from any previous blows I took before or is if it's from biting my lip too hard.

Fingers slip under my chin, pulling my face up slowly to meet his gaze. "You yield now." He said with finality. He stared down at me, I assume darkly, but I hated the stupid blindfold he had on. I hated how he could read me completely while I constantly searched his face. I felt bare before him, powerless.

I roughly pull myself from his grip, "Fuck off." I hook his leg with the back of mine, forcing him to bend out of balance. Unfortunately, it allows him to knee me on the shoulder. I look up at him towering over me, for a second I feel like I found his eyes.

The second passes long enough for me to hook my arm on his calf and ruin his balance. He grunts as he falls on his back, flat and unguarded. I take the opportunity to lock him between my legs and push all my weight on his knees. I go for his face, my fist coming down to meet his cheek but he gets a hold of my wrist. I scream almost, frustration building in my chest.

He flips over almost too easily, my body now trapped between his own legs. My other fist aims at his face but he stops it with his own palm with almost no effort, squeezing then pushing both my restrained limbs to my chest. I hiss as the raw skin of my knuckles are even more crushed in his palm. He catches the way I bite my cheek to stop myself from making any noise, his grip softens. I take my chance to try and swing at him but he holds my wrists to the sides of my head.

His chest is heaving, breathing finally as labored and as heavy as my own. The bandages covering his eyes are loose like the platinum hair falling on his face. "Enough," He says.

He knew how much I hated when people told me what to do. I try my hardest to wriggle away, a pathetic attempt. He squeezes my wrists in almost a plea, still I fight it.

"You're a liar." I mutter quietly. His hands slip from my wrists, I slap and throw weak and clumsy punches at his chest. I keep punching, and he lets me. "You're such a sick fucking liar." I cursed, strained and broken.

When my hands slow down and eventually stop, he falls to the side, we both breathe. "I—" He finds the words, the lies to say, maybe. "I'm sorry."

The air is still, and the world is quiet. I stare angrily at the purple sky, almost blue. "One day..." I used to like looking at it. I waited till it turned bright blue and then search stars when they would appear, mapped out and scattered. I look to my side, searching again. I meet his gaze when he turns to me but I cannot see it. I cannot see him. My chest begins to feel heavy. That's when I realize I'll never be able to as long as he won't let me. "One day, I'm gonna kill you."

He only scowls, "You're impossible."

"...Don't you think so, Miss?"

I'm snapped back to reality when the train's inertia pushes me forward, forcing me to hold onto the handle in front of my seat. I blink myself out of it and turn, looking at the kind looking elderly man holding the newspaper. My gaze lowers down to read the headline written in bold, "6 dead, 4 missing near one of Tokyo's Red Light Districts."

I look back up at the man, he waits patiently for my answer. I blink again, fuck what am I doing. I curse at myself, "Shoot, I didn't get that. I seem to be disassociating or something," I laugh to myself, "I'm so sorry."

The man just smiles at me, "It's alright, dear. I seem to be bothering you at the wrong time."

I immediately feel bad and urge the man to continue, "No, Please. I insist, What was it about again?"

He clears his throat and flips to the page of the newspaper and shows me what had gathered his interest. "Well it's the headline. It's just, it doesn't make sense someone could do all of that then just disappear without a trace."

I nod my head as I listen to his theories, "I supposed it is a bit strange. But maybe it was more than one person?"

The man huffs, "Well maybe. They also say it could be motivated but it says here the bodies found were merely remains, scattered in a dark abandoned building. Who would leave these normal people's remains, who seem to not be connected whatsoever, if it were motivated? Seems fishy..."

He squints his eyes as if he goes deeper in thought. Just when I think he's finished, he continues. "And isn't it strange that no one had seen anything, in a place as lit up from day and night like that place in particular, surprisingly no one had seen those people go through all that. So it's just simply impossible to not catch anything, Don't you think, Miss? Or maybe that's just me..." He taps his chin in even deeper thought.

A small smile makes its way to my lips, even if it definitely wasn't the type of subject that's supposed to bring this kind of reaction, I couldn't help it. "Wow, you seem very invested."

The old man just chuckled at himself and nodded, "Apologies, It's just that, ever since I was a boy, some of these stories around Japan—Tokyo in particular—would appear in and out of the newspapers but then after a period of time, nothing would come out of it. True crime, things as such. It always fascinated me."

I agree, entertaining him with my own thoughts. Afterwards, I asked him with the same enthusiasm as he spoke with me, "Is that why you're on a train to Tokyo? To explore the stories of the unknown?"

He shook his head, folding the newspaper in half. "Oh, no. I'm here to visit my granddaughter in Asakusa. However, we may be both considered as pioneers of true crime and such. Now that I've talked to you, it'll be easier to talk to her!" He says proudly. There's a pause in the air until he himself asks, "And you, why are you here? Visiting as well? Maybe you're also here to indulge yourself in the stories Tokyo has to offer?"

For a while I think about it, and the train slows down, "Something in between, I suppose."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #basic bitch posting

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kandisheek · 20 hours

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FIC REC WEEK 23 – POST-CA:CW

i just called to say that we are not never ever getting back together by misura

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,028 Tags: Flip Phone, Humor, Flirting

Summary: "You made a sex-ed video and you didn't tell me?"

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, I can't believe that this is what Tony is using the Flip Phone of Manly Man Pain for. Scratch that, I totally can. This fic is hilarious as hell, which is a feat considering that it's post-CW, but it's so funny that not even the slightest bit of angst has a chance to seep in. I love it, and I bet you will too, so I hope you check it out!

The Sweetest of Dreams by iam93percentstardust

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 1,081 Tags: Fix-It, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Summary: After coming back to the Compound, Steve takes a moment to breathe and return to his old room. Tony takes a moment to flirt and ask Steve out on their first official date.

Reasons why I love it: I think this might just be the most wholesome post-CW fic I've ever read. I love how MCU and 616 canon are mixed up in this, it gives me so many good vibes. And the Stony flirting is wonderful, they're such dorks in love. Please go and check this one out, it's amazing!

Locked Away by tarialdarion

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,326 Tags: Fix-It, Mutual Pining, The Phone

Summary: "Steve realizes he’s in love with Tony two months after Siberia. He sees dark hair, a flash of sunglasses from across the street and has an instant of joy, before disappointment sets in as the man turns around to reveal his face. The visceral feeling of regret and loneliness that follows is so sharp that Steve can’t breathe around it for a moment, swallowing everything down and hurrying away. Tony could always twist him up until he was yelling, laughing, screaming, smiling." or: Steve's always too late but maybe he can get it right this time.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is canon filtered through an angsty Stony lens, and it got me so damn emotional, it's not even funny. It hurts so good, and the ending just feels so right. I love this fic, and I hope you give it a shot for yourself!

they're singing deck the halls (but it's not like christmas at all) by writerkenna

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,098 Tags: Christmas, Phone Sex, Mutual Pining

Summary: Tony, as a general rule, doesn't like Christmas very much. But a call from a very important flip phone can help remedy that.

Reasons why I love it: Oh boys, you're such hopeless cases. Though not entirely hopeless, if that phone sex is anything to go by, hot damn. I love how quickly this fic escalates and how they both slowly but surely drop their facades and just tell each other how they feel. It's great, and I hope you give this fic a shot!

Flyover Country (Exes, Aliens and Cupcakes) by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 3,056 Tags: Crack, Reconciliation, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Because the universe was more into pulp aesthetics than he had thought possible, that was his assigned mission now - find raccoon, ascertain origin, subdue him by any means possible, bring him in. ‘There has been a… development.’ ‘What is it, FRIDAY?’ ‘Captain Rogers seems to be in the area.’

Reasons why I love it: Who knew that Rocket is such a good matchmaker? I love how Steve and Tony go from bickering to 'wait, you like me?' - 'wait, you do too?' in about three seconds flat, it's so much fun. And the ending is super sweet. Definitely check this one out, it's fantastic!

#marvel #fanfic #stony #a year in fanfic recs #fic rec #fanfic rec #fanfiction recommendation #ca:cw

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dragonydreams · 2 days

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Let's Be Proud Together - Buck/Tommy

Title: Let's Be Proud Together Fandom: 9-1-1 Rating: Teen Audiences And Up Pairings/Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard, Hen Wilson, Karen Wilson, Josh Russo Additional Tags: Tommy POV, BuckTommyWeek2024, Pride Summary: It's Buck and Tommy's first Pride together. Word Count: 1,470 Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Reamworks, Brad Falchuk Teley-Vision, Ryan Murphy Television, and 20th Television. Betas: Thank you to @medieshanachie for looking this over for me.

Note: I managed to write one story for @bucktommyweek - Prompt: Pride

Read on AO3

"How is that even possible?" Evan exclaimed, incredulously. "Never?"

Tommy shifted in his seat and asked, "Is it really so surprising that I've never participated in Pride month?"

"Not even working the parade on duty?" Buck asked.

Tommy huffed out a laugh. "You think Gerrard would have allowed his station to work the Pride parade?"

"From what I know about him, probably not. But you never went with friends?"

"Evan, I worked very hard to maintain my image as a macho straight man for a very long time. I didn't even come out until I was in my forties, and then… I don't know, it just never felt right. And I didn't allow myself to have any queer friends as a manner of self-preservation, so that no one would think me queer by association."

Evan pulled Tommy into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry you never felt comfortable celebrating who you are," Even murmured into his ear.

Tommy pulled back and pressed a brief kiss to Evan's lips. "It is what it is."

"But will you go now? With me?" Evan asked, hope shining in his eyes. "I kinda can't wait to show off my hot pilot boyfriend at the Pride Parade; as a member of the community, not just an ally."

"I'd be honored to go and show off my hot firefighter boyfriend," Tommy said, smiling wide.

"Good, because I already told Hen, Karen, and Josh we'd go with them," Evan said.

"Wait, who is Josh?" Tommy asked.

"Josh Russo, you met him at the wedding." Tommy shrugged and looked at Evan blankly, so Evan continued, "He's Maddie's best friend at Dispatch and very gay. You know, at one poker night, Josh thought she was trying to set us up, and Maddie said she liked him too much to set him up with her brother. I didn't protest that I wasn't into guys, just that she didn't want to set him up with me. We laughed it off and we moved on. I really can't believe it took me so long to realize I wasn't fully straight."

"I guess I'm lucky that he wasn't your type," Tommy said.

"I'm lucky that I'm your type," Evan said.

Tommy couldn't resist kissing Evan. "You are definitely my type," he said, kissing him again.Then he asked, "So we're going to the parade with your sister's best friend and Howie's best friend, but not Maddie and Howie?"

"I asked Maddie if they wanted to come, but she insisted that she didn't want to cramp my style for my first out Pride," Evan said, blushing slightly.

"She's a good sister," Tommy said.

"She's the best," Evan agreed. "Besides, Hen is like my other big sister and Josh and I have hung out without Maddie before. Although I'm not sure if Hen has ever hung out with Josh before. I don't think their paths have crossed much."

"You do know that not all queer people know each other, right?" Tommy teased.

"Ha. Ha," Evan said, dryly. "Yes, I did know that. I just think it's interesting that they both know Maddie and Chimney but haven't all hung out together."

"Maybe they have and you just weren't there," Tommy suggested.

"Maybe," Evan conceded.

~~*~~

The night before Pride, Tommy spent the night at Evan's so that he'd already be there in the morning when everyone gathered at the loft.

Evan was laying on his side, watching him, as Tommy drifted awake.

"How long have you been doing that?" Tommy asked.

"Not too long," Evan said. He leaned over to brush a quick kiss against Tommy's lips. "Happy Pride."

Tommy grinned and pulled Evan into a deeper kiss. When they broke apart, both a bit breathless, Tommy said, "Happy Pride."

"Let's get showered. They're going to be here in like an hour," Evan said, bouncing out of bed.

"You go ahead, I need a few more minutes," Tommy insisted.

Evan pouted adorably. "You don't want to join me?"

"Not if we only have an hour until we have company," Tommy said, waving him off. "Go shower. I'll get started on coffee."

Twenty minutes later, Evan came down the stairs dressed in blue denim shorts and a tight pink tank top.

Tommy felt his jaw drop as he watched Evan descend the stairs.

"Like what you see?" Evan said with a smirk.

"Very much so," Tommy said. "Come here."

Evan quickly circled the kitchen island and stepped into Tommy's open arms. Tommy pulled him close and kissed him very thoroughly.

Reluctantly, Evan pulled back. "Your turn to shower."

Tommy sighed, but headed for the stairs. He showered quickly and dressed in blue jeans and a tight white tee shirt.

As he descended the stairs, he heard laughter. From multiple people. He watched Evan lick his lips when he caught sight of Tommy.

"Damn, my boyfriend is hot," Evan said.

"Mine, too," Tommy said. "Hey, Hen. Karen."

"Hey, Tommy," Hen said.

"I'm not running late, am I?" Tommy asked.

"No, we're early," Karen said. "I promised Buck I'd paint him before we headed to the parade."

"Paint?" Tommy asked, eyebrows raised.

He looked more closely at the two women. Hen was dressed in white pants with an orange and pink top and Karen wore a beautiful sundress in the colors of the lesbian flag.

They also had flags painted on their cheeks.

"Did you want the bi flag or the rainbow flag?" Karen asked, the question clearly directed to Evan.

Evan glanced up at Tommy before returning his attention to Karen. "Let's go with the bi flag on my cheek and a rainbow flag on my left bicep."

Hen came over to stand beside Tommy as they watched Karen get to work.

"How 'bout you?" Hen asked Tommy. "You up for a little paint?"

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. He supposed that was the question. Was he up for publicly declaring his sexual orientation?

"You know you don't have to," Hen was quick to add. "No one here, or there, will be upset if you don't. I know just going is a big step for you."

"Did Evan tell you that?" Tommy asked.

"He didn't have to," Hen said. She bumped her shoulder against his.

A knock at the door delayed Tommy's need to make a decision right at that moment. Tommy went to open the door to the last member of their party. "You must be Josh," Tommy said, allowing the man into the apartment.

"I'd be offended that you don't remember me from the wedding, but as I recall, you were exhausted and met a lot of people that day," Josh said. "You, on the other hand, were extremely memorable." He looked Tommy up and down. "For more than one reason."

Tommy closed the door behind Josh, watching as he joined the others at the table. Josh was wearing a Hawaiian shirt in the colors of the gay flag with khaki pants. He already had a rainbow flag painted on one cheek.

Karen was just finishing the rainbow flag on Evan's arm when Tommy joined them.

"I guess I can't be the only one without paint," he said with a sigh.

Karen squealed excitedly. "What do you want?"

Tommy thought about it for a minute, his eyes running over Evan's upper body.

"Can you do a rainbow on my arm, same as Evan's? Well, a little lower?" Tommy asked.

"You've got it," Karen said. "Sit down."

Tommy reached out and Evan took his hand. Evan was smiling widely.

"You guys are too cute together," Josh observed. Then he lamented, "Why are all the good ones taken?"

"Maybe you'll meet someone today," Evan said, optimistically.

"Unlikely," Josh said. "But you never know."

"You really don't," Evan agreed, eyes returning to Tommy.

"There we go," Karen said, finishing with a flourish. "I just need to rinse out the brush and we are good to go."

They all stood and Evan was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Has everyone put on sunscreen and used the bathroom?" Hen asked.

"Seriously?" Evan asked. "When did you become everyone's mom?"

"Do you want those large, muscular, arms to get sunburned?" she countered.

"Good point," Evan conceded. He went into the downstairs bathroom and grabbed a bottle of sunscreen. "Probably should have done this before doing the paint."

"Just go around it," Hen said.

Tommy and Evan applied the sunscreen to their faces, necks and arms. Tommy held the bottle out to Josh, but he said he was all set.

"I'll just use the bathroom upstairs," Evan said. "Feel free to use this one."

They all took turns using the facilities, knowing it would be many hours before they'd be near a bathroom again.

Finally, everyone was ready to go.

"Let's go show them how first responders do Pride," Evan said, excitedly as they headed out the door.

#bucktommyweek #bucktommy #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #Fic: Let's Be Proud Together #pride

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