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uchihaharlot · 4 months

Note

Itachi and Shisui making out in the back seat of a car in modern au

Nonny,

I’m gonna tell you a little secret. If your older hotter cousin sears his lips to yours in a hot kiss, while going 99 in the backseat of a souped up coupe...

NSFW; extreme depictions of Shisui fucking Itachi rotten, Sasuke getting hard from it and then Shisui coercing him to let him suck Sasuke off. You’ve been warned, if you don’t like Shiita, or even Sasuke/Shisui (which I don’t ship this, I just did it out of spite) get lost. If you’re incapable of understanding that fiction is not real, get lost. If you want to bitch and moan about this, I don’t give a fuck. I like writing, I like writing smut. I like writing my favorite characters (especially the two that Kishi royally fucked, getting fucked and by one another).

Itachi didn’t turn him way. In fact, it would be rude if he didn’t reciprocate the gesture. At least, that’s what Itachi internalized it as. Aside from Shisui being his mentor and biggest supporter.

He was his lover. His Ride or die — rotten soldier. To ignore the whims of one of the strongest shinobi all of Konoha and the Uchiha ever produced, would be ignorant.

That and Shisui’s fat cock spoke for itself when it emotionally and physically incapacitated Itachi to a whimpering mess. How side splitting good it felt when he was stuffed full of it. Shisui craned Itachi by his hair and sucked on his neck.

Hurried, and desperate, Itachi reaches his lips to slant over Shisui’s. The intermingling of their breaths heated the space in between. The soft rocking of their hips, harmonious rhythm. Shisui reached down to stroke Itachi’s throbbing cock, how many times had he edged him to the brink and stopped.

Poor baby Sasuke. Subjected to his family’s salacious behavior. Drove over a few speed bumps with no breaks in hopes of knocking their shit off. Instead was met with the inconsolable moaning of his older brother.

“You two are annoying, and disgusting.” Sasuke chided, taking a hard left.

Thinking he could manipulate a pair of mass manipulators himself, Sasuke drifts onto a dirt road. How unfortunate for him the car turned into one giant vibrator on the rocky terrain, that it only fed the salacious narrative of his family.

As if he was being funny Shisui yelled, “faster Sasuke… Itachi’s close.” The perpetual image in the review mirror of his cousin plowing his older brother while saying that made him wish he was blind. A terrible day to have eyes.

Break check? More like a thrust boost. Nothing that Sasuke did really made a difference, Shisui was still balls to the wall deep inside Itachi. His brother in their cousin’s lap, Shisui’s hand ferociously stroking Itachi. The lurid hip rotation permanently gave Sasuke brain damage. Hearing his older brother mewling he was cumming did not prepare Sasuke for the stalactite of cum that ricocheted out Itachi’s throbbing cock and dripped off the hooded upholstery and into his lap.

‘You’re sick as fuck Shisui!’ Sasuke’s disgusted face did not scare his older cousin.

‘Don’t be such a prude. I have enough for both of you.’ Whatever the fuck Shsiui was referring to, Sasuke pretended to not hear or know.

It all came to a head, well Itachi’s mouth slobbering Shisui’s head. He was purposely holding it in. Enjoying the glare of Sasuke from the mirror every so few seconds as he recklessly drove through the backwoods of Konoha. Shisui’s unnecessarily loud caterwauling made worse by his hand forcing Itachi to deep throat his length.

‘Are you hard, little cousin?’ Shisui moaned, Sasuke kept his dick in check until that little number slipped out.

With vinegar, Sasuke shot back, ‘I like blondes, not incorrigible assholes.’ Yea of course, but if Sasuke was as crooked as the rest of them, he would cave.

‘I give better head than that kid you call a man.’ Shisui, still using his older brother as a cock sleeve, drawing out his own climax. ‘Pull over.’

‘No.’ Sasuke sped up, hitting a pothole at the moment Shisui spurted his creamy cum into Itachi’s willing and warm mouth. Being sucked like a straw until he could no longer take the overstimulation of it.

The pothole, well, it popped a tire. Irritating a shrieking Sasuke and making Shisui laugh as he moans, ‘I came so hard I popped the tire.’

Once Itachi and Shisui are properly fitted back into their respective slacks. The situation outside of the vehicle is assessed. Front passenger side tire was toast. Itachi immediately went to the trunk for the spare and jack. Shisui on the other hand, continued to push his deplorable agenda of ‘reasons why you should put your cock in my mouth’ to Sasuke. One of them being the most ridiculous of reasons.

‘I’m older, wiser and—’ cut off by Sasuke.

‘Will you shut the fuck up if I let you?’ Sasuke snapped, typically would never even fantasize this situation. But he was semi hard, and Naruto was not around. Nobody was around. Itachi looked up from the trunk, not involving himself in the matter. It wasn’t like men didn’t know what men wanted. It wasn’t as if there was some law that forbid you to fuck your older or younger cousin. It wasn’t as if—

Sasuke stopped internalizing the second he felt Shisui’s warmth wrapped around his cock, expertly took him deep and Sasuke begrudgingly groaned. When had he unfastened his pants even? How quickly his older cousin worked his shaft, looking up at him like some goo goo doll in a whorehouse. Took him to the back of his throat, with out complaint, over and over again. Spitting on him and using both hands to crank his aching need. Naruto would have bitched he was too much to take, not Shisui. Shisui gargled even on Sasuke’s hot pulsing cock. Sucking in air as Shisui’s lips encapsulated the tip of his cock to the roof of his mouth as it threatened to spill out.

‘Already?’ Shisui teased, licking his length from under.

‘Shut up.’ As if closing your eyes would make Sasuke forget that Shisui was the one on his knees.

He clenched his firsts at his side, that was, until Shisui guided one hand to his curls, ‘Itachi’s favorite.’

It was unholy to receive lips service only the gods would weep for. As his older brother continued to change the tire, neither Shisui nor Sasuke were distracted by the gentle rise on the other side of the car. Sasuke leaned against the driver side door, whispering profanity towards Shisui and his stupid good mouth. He was going to cum, but he didn’t want to give Shisui the pleasure of it in his mouth.

‘On your face.’ Sasuke demanded and bit back a groan.

Shisui never once listened to the advice of others, he did as he pleased but hearing and seeing Sasuke whimpering. Looking up at his now grown up baby cousin from a vulnerable standpoint, drawing his leaning cock in and out of his mouth as Sasuke gripped his hair. Shisui decided to actually entertain this idea.

‘As you wish, little Sasuke.’ Even worse was the tone he used. Oh well, Sasuke unabashedly gripped Shisui by his mop of hair and watched as Shisui pumped his thickening cock above his face. Painting his older cousin with the same genetic material each on of them had.

‘I still think you’re sick as fuck.’ When Shisui licked at his lips.

‘The pot calling the kettle black.’ Standing, leaving Sasuke with his now soft floppy dick hanging out.

On cue the car was now situated in four wheels again. Shisui took driver seat, itachi passenger and Sasuke in the back. Left to ruminate and brood on the fact he may or may not have just gotten the best head of his life. Would never admit it, Shisui would undoubtedly tease him through innuendos at the most insensitive times.

‘..fucking losers.’

#shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha clan #shisui headcanons #uchiha headcanons #uchiha family #itachi headcanons #sasuke headcanons #sasuke smut #sasuke uchiha #Sasuke x Shisui #shisui x itachi #shiita #itachi smut #shisui smut

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thatpunkmaximoff · 8 months

Text

Story: 4 out of 5 Smut: 3 out of 5

This book is a fast-paced, dark romance that will leave you giggling at some parts and fanning yourself at others. I loved the mystery and the reveal, even if it broke my heart a little, and was left wanting more of Wolf.

Now enjoy my rambling thoughts...

* Oh sure. Send in the awkward, anxiety-ridden girl to murder someone 😂

* Aw damn. Someone murdered her mark before her.

* Why is it so hot when a guy cages you in with his body? I know he kidnapped her, but damn..

* Well this escalated quickly 👀 Holy shit, he really spanked the fuck outta her.

* She’s dead set that her brother will protect her, but I don’t think that’s the case. I have a feeling she’s gonna get a rude reality check soon.

* I’m gonna laugh if these two are fucking related 😂 Wolf keeps mentioning a sister and Everleigh just mentioned Wolf is doing the dishes strangely similar to the way her dad used to 👀

* Ahh. The one bed trope. I love it.

* “I’ll open the door, and you can run. Then the big, bad wolf is going to chase you. This is your chance to escape, but if I catch you, you’re mine. And I will catch you.”

* She ran 🤦🏻‍♀️ and he fucking caught her within minutes 😂

* His dick is pierced. And he totally just ruined her on the forest floor 😏

* Oh so we get a POV from the brother Asher. And apparently he’s not happy his sister is missing. Sorry to break it to you, dude, but she’s getting dicked down in the woods.

* The fucking chipmunk.. oh my god 😂

* Oh fuck. He was supposed to kill her too? The Kings are double crossing each other now?!

* Oh shit. They set her up for the murder of an undercover cop.

* And now she’s missing after Wolf left her in the car to go get snacks! This bitch is dumb.

* The fucking brother. I knew it! I knew he was gonna be a piece of shit.

* Wait.. he’s not her brother..?

* I knew Wolf would save her. That’s my man.

* Goddamn. Way to go, Everleigh. I knew you had it in you.

* Dun, dun, dun. Meeting with the Kings of Blood. How will this go? Especially since they want Everleigh dead.

* Well that was easy. Wolf probably owes a lot of money, but she’s safe now so…

* Nausea that’s getting worse? She’s pregnant! Lol.

* “Baby, look. We’re having a chipmunk.” — oh my god 😭

* They fucking named their kid “chipmunk” 🤣 Not really, but close enough.

#blood #aspen campbell #dark romance #booktok book review #book review #everleigh #wolf

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greta-van-fics · 3 years

Text

heat above

author’s note: y’all. this may be the worst thing i’ve ever written. it’s a long overdue present for my angel chey @stardustschords and i just. this is porn. love you so much baby!

taglist: @thatiloveyouso @brokenbellsos @greta-van-yeet @alwayzthere @gretavanhoney @weightofdreams-gvf

warnings: A LOT OF SMUT (18+ ONLY) lord have mercy this gets dirty. unprotected sex, slapping, hair pulling, degradation, spanking, thigh riding....i’m going directly to hell.

He’d been making eyes at you all night. You were sure of it. Normal glances, like you’d received from the rest of the band, didn’t linger like that. They didn’t stick to your skin and slide off, leaving a sugary-sweet, sickly burn behind. Your stomach had been in confused flips all night. Was he looking at you? Surely not again.

You raised your eyes to check, and there, like clockwork, was his doe-like gaze. Large eyes the color of burnt caramel that you swore could see through every last scrap of clothing you were wearing.

Your cheeks colored uncomfortably and you fidgeted against the wall, trying to listen to the story his brother was telling you. Something about high school theater camp, and a missing pair of underwear, and wow, his gaze was searing you. You looked down at your exposed décolletage, expecting there to be red burn marks left behind.

Finally, mercifully, you found yourself not engaged in conversation with anyone. Slipping away to the parking lot behind the bar, you sat down on the curb, let out a frustrated huff, and tried to cool yourself down. The hot, heavy air clung to your skin and did nothing to help.

The interview had gone well enough. You were expecting it to be just another run of the mill question-and-answer, with you feigning surprise and utter interest at the musicians’ run of the mill responses. Instead, you met what was quite possibly the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life. And to make matters worse, he had been seemingly unable to tear his gaze from you since.

“No chance you have a lighter, right?”

You just about jumped out of your skin at the voice next to you. Jake was standing in the back doorway of the bar, looking down at you. His full lips quirked into a faint smile at your obvious shock. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You mumbled back a barely-audible “N-no!” and wiped your damp palms on your tights. They slid off the sheer fabric uselessly.

“You ok, sweetheart?” Jake’s voice was raspy, and the overhead lights of the parking lot cast half of his face into shadow, but the Cheshire smile and glinting teeth were always visible.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. A sudden burst of confidence overtook you. “Is it my imagination, or have you been watching me pretty much all day?” Jake laughed, and the sound was delicious. He looked like sex in a dark t-shirt with black jeans so tight they left incredibly little to the imagination.

“Oh, I have been looking at you,” he replied unabashedly. You both stared at each other for a moment, clearly trying to gauge the other’s intentions. “Do you live around here?”

“I have a hotel room.”

“Well, that’s alright. Have you ever made out with a perfect stranger in the back of an Uber?”

Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, but a smile pulled at your lips nonetheless. “Do you wanna take me home, Jake Kiszka of Greta van Fleet?”

“Maybe I do.” He crouched down so he was eye-level with you. “I want to do a lot more than just take you home, though.”

You leaned forward so you were and inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours. “Are you gonna throw me around a little bit?”

Your brash confidence wavered when Jake’s hand shot up to grip your face by the jaw and he whispered, “You’re a mouthy little slut, aren’t you?”

The Uber ride to your hotel slid by in a flash of hot, slick skin sliding against teeth and lips that pulled and kissed at everything in reach. You vaguely remembered feeling sorry for the driver, but then Jake had his tongue in your mouth again and everything else melted away. Even the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor was a mess of steamy hands tangled in increasingly-messy hair.

Once you had successfully fumbled your key card into unlocking your hotel room door, Jake backed you against the wall and slid his hands from your hips up to your breasts. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning into kiss you once more. A moan slipped out of your lips.

“Jake,” you panted, and half slumped against the wall, unable to support your weight anymore as his wandering hands made you weak.

A sharp sting across your face made you cry out in pain that was immediately replaced with pleasure. “You fucking slut. Try again.”

Your mind raced, trying desperately to comprehend what Jake was talking about. Try again? You’d never hooked up with him before, how were you to know—he gripped your throat with one hand and yanked your hair so hard that you were forced to fall to your knees, and suddenly it all made sense. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Your clit was positively throbbing with need as you gasped out, “Daddy!”

An animalistic snarl escaped Jake as he looked down at you, panting between his legs. "Here’s how tonight’s gonna go, my little whore. First—” He slapped you again, but you swallowed your cry even as your eyes watered, “—you’re gonna suck me off and let me cum all over your pretty face.”

“Then,” he continued, now unzipping his pants to reveal rumpled purple boxers and an erection that made you want to moan just looking at it. “You’re going to get a nice reward and ride daddy’s thigh until you cum.”

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the thought. Those fucking jeans looked downright perfect for getting off on. Jake ripped your hair downward again until you were face to face, him bent over you like a king lording over his subject.

“And to finish it all off, I’m going to fuck you into that bed like the dirty girl you are.”

Without any time to think, he had pulled out his rock-hard cock and nudged it into your mouth. Your jaw ached as you tried to adjust to this size, gagging hard as he hit the back of your throat. “Come on baby, take daddy’s cock. Take it good. You don’t want me to slap you again, do you?” You managed to send him a smirk with your eyes even as his cock filled your mouth that made him falter for a moment, breathing out, “Fucking perfect.”

He began to fuck your mouth gently, your nails digging into his thighs. The tough fabric of his jeans sent electricity through your body as you thought about what was going to happen next. You took him as deeply as you could, but he was so large you struggled. You moved your hands to wrap around the inches of Jake that you couldn’t hold in your mouth and he gasped and dropped your hair, moving to push his own out of his face.

The image of him with his head thrown back, mouth open in ecstasy as his hips thrust into your mouth made your cunt ache, and you began slowly snaking your hand down to reach between your legs when—

“Fuuuuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” Jake choked out, and you pulled off of him, kneeling back on your heels and presenting your face obediently. He held his dick in his hand and came—a lot—on your face. He backed away from you, breathing hard and looking like he’d truly just ascended to the stars.

You waited patiently for him to walk back over to you and wipe his thumb through the cum that had landed on your cheek. He inserted the thumb into your mouth and you cleaned it, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Thank you for fucking my mouth, daddy,” you said, giving his thumb a small kiss as it left your lips. Jake bit down on his lip, perfect teeth gliding across it into a smile. His forehead was shiny with sweat, and you could feel your own hair sticking to the back of your neck.

“Do you wanna ride daddy’s thigh now, beautiful?” Jake asked, pulling you gently to your feet and guiding you over to the bed, where he sat down and patted his left thigh. Having spent all day fantasizing about that very thing made you drop all pretenses and nod your head so fast you thought your neck might snap.

Jake chuckled indulgently and brought you down onto his knee. You immediately ground as hard as you could into the black fabric. Thank God you had decided to wear a skirt today. The friction of his jeans and your tights made you let out an unholy moan. Jake placed his hands at your hips to help steady you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair.

“You wanna take those tights off, don’t you, you filthy whore?” Jake plucked at the sheer black fabric on your legs. “You wanna show me how wet you are?” You nodded again, unable to form any words as you rode his thigh mercilessly.

Another expertly applied smack across your face and a growl of “Use your words, princess,” had you involuntarily screaming out, “Yes, daddy! Oh, daddy, please!”

Jake smirked. “Good girl.” He lifted you briefly and pulled your tights down your legs, ripping them several times in the process. “Fuck. These are impossible.”

You would have giggled at his adorable frustration had you not been so drunk on lust that you couldn’t think straight. As soon as you were extricated from the tights, you sat back down on Jake’s leg and rolled your hips, the new found skin-to-denim contact causing you to throw your head back and moan. Your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, and you came hard all over Jake’s thigh, fisting your hands into the hair at his neck.

You fell to his side on the bed and panted, still sensitive from your high. Jake didn’t move for several seconds, so you lifted your head to inquire why. You were met with the sight of him staring at the evidence of your orgasm on his jeans.

“Fuck, you’re the sexiest goddamn person I’ve ever met,” Jake breathed, still looking at the spot you had left behind. You colored and apologized for ruining his pants, but Jake cut you off to roll over and pin you down to the bed, kissing you passionately. He slowly pulled your shirt over your head, seemingly reluctant to break the kiss to do so.

You could feel him remember that he was supposed to be dominating you as he tensed his back and sat up, straddling your hips. “Do you want to be fucked now, needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” you cried, clawing at his shirt to indicate that you wanted it gone. He complied and removed his and your remaining clothing. Completely naked, he dipped to kiss you one last time before flipping your onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so his were flush with your ass. He spanked it hard and another moan escaped you.

“Yeah, you like that?” His deep was raspy with desire, and you felt his once again hard cock pressing at your once again soaked entrance. He spanked you again, then leaned down to whisper, “Tell daddy how you wanna be fucked.”

A string of profanities that you were certain were intelligible left your lips, but you had no time to wrap your mind around what you were actually saying before Jake had slid into you fully, his fingers pressing into your hips.

“Shit!” You gasped, then Jake began moving and fucking you relentlessly. The sound was dirty and lewd, sticky skin against sticky skin and you craned your neck to catch a quick glimpse of Jake, hips pounding into you and hair flying wildly about his face. It was more painful than if he had allowed you a few seconds to adjust, but you wished it could have hurt even more. The pain drove you toward orgasm in equal measure as the pleasure.

You felt Jake’s thrust began to get sloppier and suddenly you heard him groan, “Gonna cum, fuck, baby,” and attempt to pull out, but you threw a hand back to grip his wrist and stop him.

“Come deep,” you moaned, and that was all the both of you needed to hit the peak. You tightened around his cock and he let out a growl that mingled sinfully with your scream.

He finally pulled out and fell onto the bed, panting. The air was thick and scorching. You collapsed onto your stomach, feeling his cum leaking slowly out of you.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling you into his side and placing a hand on your ass. “I can’t wait ‘til the next time you interview us.”

#lord please forgive me #jake kiszka smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #by liv

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mountswhore · 3 years

Note

hey! see u were taking requests so i wanted one with mason related to "london boy" by taylor swift? maybe reader is a singer or something like that?

one of the best taylor swift songs imo, so of course!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 — mason mount

summary: mason shows you around london during your break, and now you don't think you can ever go back

notes: requests are open again! my asks are open.

Leaving your hometown in New York to visit the world was one of the hardest things you had to do. But you had your dream job, now it was time to follow it. Your recent album was a success, pouring your heart into it as you recovered from your breakup. Your fans had watched your relationship build, and then break apart. Hearing your side of things through 14 songs. Awards, interviews, and traction had come from it, earning you a world tour. It was a scary thing to do, considering it was your first international tour.

“I just want to come back to New York already, I’ve not been on this tour long.” You complained to your sister, curled up in a hotel bed in London. Your first destination was the UK, and there was nothing worse than being homesick.

“Quit being a baby, the UK is so nice.” Your sister replied, chuckling shortly afterwards. “Me and dad visited Manchester, I think? Very nice looking, at least where we stayed.” You sighed, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You loved your cosy apartment in New York, you were even starting to miss the constant traffic sounds and arguing in the early hours of the morning.

“I guess, and I know London is nice, at least. I think I’m gonna interact with some fans,” you decided, pulling the duvet further up your body, “speak tomorrow at sound check.” You ended the call, liking some tweets and replying to a few things, eventually tweeting something of your own.

“Happy to see a lot of my UK fans tomorrow, can’t wait to scream my feelings out with you,” Declan read out, giving Mason a cheeky look. The pair of them were in Mason’s living room, enjoying their evening of FIFA. The boys had spoken about you plenty of times, in interviews too, Mason declaring you as his celebrity crush.

“Shut up already, she probably doesn’t even know who I am.” Mason stated, resting his arm over his eyes to conceal the blush on his face. Him, Declan and a few other boys were going to your concert tomorrow night, some of the WAGs suggested it as they loved your music.

“You think she’s not going to notice a blue tick in her dm’s? It’s worth a shot.” Declan encouraged his friend to shoot his shot, close to grabbing his phone and doing it himself, but instead he was watching Mason bashfully scroll through your twitter replies. “Do it, or I will.”

Mason sighed, clicking the reply button and typing out a reply, handing the phone to Declan to review. ‘Can’t wait, wanna see you.’

“Perfect,” Declan mumbled, pressing the reply button for him. He knew Mason never would, he just saved him 20 minutes of back and forth debate. Handing Mason his phone back, Declan smirked as he watched his friend's face change from fairly embarrassed, to shocked.

“There’s no fucking way you sent that.” Mason remarked, refreshing his phone to see his tweet attract likes. “You dick.”

Declan just laughed as Mason had turned completely red, watching the likes and replies collect under his tweet. Moments later, you’d appeared in his dm’s.

‘I recognise you.’

It was an ominous message from you, one that had you pacing and replaying the creepy message over and over again. But Mason smiled at the message, all ounces of worry leaving his body as he replied to you.

‘Oh yeah? From where?’

‘Actually, I think I recognise your teammate, Pulisic. He’s all my brother talks about sometimes. But all I know is that he plays for a soccer team.’

He laughed at your reply, Declan watching over in pure disbelief.

‘You have a lot to learn about the UK, and luckily I know all about it.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, come backstage after the show, bring whoever you’re with. I’m in London for the next few days before my next show, maybe you can show me around.’

“There’s no way you’re flirting with Y/N Y/L/N within two minutes of replying to her tweet.” Declan stated, Mason smirking at his best friend before sending another reply.

‘Bet.'

Your show was now over and you were anxiously waiting for the boys to be escorted back stage. You didn't know much about football, especially over here, but you knew the boys that were coming back stage were professionals. You'd learnt their names, Declan, Jack, and Mason. Jack and Declan brought their girlfriends along, but Mason was 'painfully single', as he put it.

Finally, as you sat down in your chair to relax, you heard a knock at the door. It was them. They had all filed in, the two girls in shock that they were meeting you. You'd given them all a hug, and gotten to Mason. He looked down at you as you pulled him in, squeezing you tightly before letting you go again.

"Did you guys enjoy it?" You asked, ushering them to the couch for them to sit down. You wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible, rushing over to your dressing room fridge and pulling out some drinks.

"It was amazing," Sasha gawked, still in awe over seeing you for the first time, "we saw you have one in Birmingham in a few weeks, so we're going to that one too." You blushed, returning to your seat opposite the couch.

"That's so sweet! I'm sure I can get you some good tickets, I'll dm you on Instagram or something." You suggested to her, Sasha eagerly nodding her head. You conversed with the group of five, Mason giving you a particular look that you had mirrored back to him. You planned on getting his number, and making sure he showed you around London.

Soon enough, the group was heading back to wherever they were staying, as it was beginning to get quite late. "Thank you guys for coming, and I'm so glad I met you."

Mason stayed behind, folding his arms and sharing a smirk with you as his friends voices trailed down the hallway. "So, about this bet."

"Yeah," you replied casually, grabbing your water bottle from the table and taking a sip, being in the presence of an attractive man again was giving you quite the nerves, "I'll take your number, because I'd love to get to know London." He nodded, grabbing his phone from his jacket pocket and handing it to you.

"Perfect. See you."

You and Mason had planned your first meeting in a pub. It wasn't the classiest of places, but your plan was to get to know the UK. Mason had ordered you both a drink, guessing what you like and nailing it when you went in for a second sip and shoved a thumb up.

"So," he began, fiddling with the coaster his beer sat on, "how long are you in London for?"

"Just until Thursday, Friday morning I'm heading to Manchester." You stated, realising you only had four days with Mason, including today.

"Well, we better make the days count then." Mason declared. The pair of you spoke about his career as well as yours, talking about how different school was for the pair of you. Mason had stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, and you'd accepted it without complaint. He led you out of the pub and through the town center, gazing at the stalls set up around you. The weather wasn't so different to New York, both constantly dreary, but you were liking London so far.

On your second day together, you'd taken a cab to another town, this time to just experience the busy streets. To Mason, this was normal. For you, it was only familiar. New York was one of the busiest cities in the world, but London was different, better in every other way. You'd finished your day together, stomachs full of pub food, and in the back of a cab, rain pattering on the windows. You'd shuffled closer to Mason, placing your hand on his and squeezing. He looked at you briefly, smiling his usual smile, before quickly looking out at the street in an effort to hide his tinged cheeks.

Day three, the weather was too bad to do anything. But Mason kept you company in your hotel room. He'd taught you a bunch of British slang, laughing as your accent completely butchered them all. You'd shown him a snippet of your new song before room service had arrived. And the night ended with the pair of you collapsed in your bed, tv playing in the back ground, but your eyes on each other. It was like pure magic, the long-awaited feeling of his lips on yours. You'd been thinking about it all day, missing every opportunity until now.

Your final day was the worst. You both knew it was coming, you wouldn't see him until you had a break, and he had one too. You both had stupidly busy schedules, as well as living in different countries. Maybe one day you could bring him to New York, show him your side of life. And maybe one day you'll branch out and move here.

Mason had helped you carry your things out of your hotel room, which was taking you to Manchester. Your manager had texted you to be in the car before 3, which meant you had just 10 minutes until you had to say goodbye to Mason for a while.

You were stood in the foyer of the hotel, waiting for the car to arrive. You'd secretly hoped it didn't, you wanted to stay with Mason for a while longer, but you couldn't. Duty called.

"Thank you for showing me around London," you spoke, looking up at Mason, who was hiding his deflated feelings, "I really enjoyed it, I might even prefer it to New York."

"That's a given. I'm here." He joked, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. These four days had been immense fun for him, different to how he usually spent his days. Different than night at home alone, different than a night on the town. Was it too soon to say he missed you?

Mason looked down at you as you clung to his side, hoping he felt the same way you did. And he did, you just didn’t know that. His fingers slid across your jaw slowly, pulling your chin up to look at him. It was an intense moment, so many different emotions. He’d leaned in and kissed you, it was his parting gift. To say that he’d see you soon enough.

“Enjoy Manchester, I’m sure I can fit another show in somehow.” Mason spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You spoke, the car pulling up outside. He’d dragged your suitcases out to the car, popping them in the boot for you. Finally, he stared at you through the window, which you quickly rolled down. “I fancy you, is that the right term?”

Mason laughed, head tipping back slightly. “Yeah, it is. And I fancy you too.”

#mase #money mase #mason mount one shot #mason mount request #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

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notgalaxii · 4 years

Note

May I pls ask for a headcanon of when the brothers or undateables are sick and MC looks after them pls

I wroteee guys! Be proud of me! Oh and I'm also super kinda sorta upset because my new manager wants me in at like 5:30am - 1:30pm?? And that's tiring. Oh welllll, thats how it beeee.

Another thing! I kind of wrote a self-indulgent Satan smut but I didn't know if I wanted to post self-indulgent NSFW cause I feel like a HOOEEE so if you're reading this, you should leave a reply letting me know what you think~

Pride

Bold of you to assume Lucifer will willingly stay put in bed to be taken care of

He puts up one of the biggest fights

"MC, I have paperwork to do."

"MC, Lord Diavolo requested me for a meeting."

"Calm your shit, Luci. You know Diavolo would give you the devildoms entire supply of tissues and medicine if he knew you were sick."

After he gets over his fit of needing to do anything and everything, he's quite easy to take care of

Will tell you exactly what he wants, needs, how much it is, and how to get it

Lucifer would probably be more of a medicine person than soup or tea

Definitely gets very fever high and it'll slowly chip at his wall

"Thank you for bringing me my meals, MC. It means so much to me that you'd go out of your way to take care of me. I appreciate you every second of every day."

Sick Lucifer likes it when you run your fingers through his hair, it'll lull him to sleep

Definitely wouldn't mind if you crawled next to him in bed and fell asleep to him, but I feel like if you do it a few times, fever high Luci will get pretty clingy.

"Why didn't you stay with me longer last night, MC? You left me cold."

Greed

You thought Mammon was already clingy?

Sick Mammon is the textbook definition of clingy

And it's even worse because he feels too fucking miserable to put up a fight with his tsundere self so all of his neediness is right there in the open

"MCCCCC Where ya goin!?!? I wasn't done with you yet! The Great Mammon wants to be fed soup."

Whiny. Very whiny. Oh my god so whiny.

"Why do I feel like my head is floatin' away from my body, huh? It's all foggy up here! Make it stooop"

And if you take a few seconds too long to say something,

"Oi! Are ya listenin' to me!? Pay attention, human!"

But will definitely make it up because sick Mammon is ✨lovey✨ Mammon

"I love you, human. Don't forget that, 'kay? I wouldn't let any other dumb little human take care of me like this. I feel like I can trust you."

Sicky Mammon loves soup. He wants the soup to be fed to him every time too.

Will aggressively feed it to himself if you deny him

"Dummy human, don't know what ya missin' out on, yanno!"

Absolutely melts under a n y touch that you give him

Likes it when you rub his chest a lot, it's very soothing

And as per usual, absolutely loves his hair being played with

An ideal night for sick Mammon would be cuddled up to his human with their hand in hair, watching movies and having soup fed to him until he falls asleep

He's a baby, protect him. Please.

Envy

Leviathan is very confused about why you're trying so hard to take care of him

He's holed up in his room all day anyway, what's the difference when he's sick? He can take care of himself!

But oh god when you bring him food and pets, he can't deny how loved it makes him feel

Anime Marathons! Anime Marathons!

Adores being all wrapped up in the blankets with you watching his favorite shows to make him feel better.

Brush his hair out of his face to check his fever. Do it. It'll break him.

Kiss him on the forehead afterwards if you really r e a l l y want to break him

Levi wouldn't care too much what you bring him, but he would like it to be hot to sooth his throat

He can't yell at his game with a sore throat.

Rub his chest and shoulders, it makes him feel like a big boy

Play with his hair that's usually in his face

Wrath

Angy boy is angy

Doesn't get why you're trying to take care of him, he's a big boy

At first he's a little annoyed by the gestures. Satan likes to do things for himself, he wants to feel capable.

If you're romantically involved with him though, he'll be nicer about it

"I don't know why you're bringing me my meals, kitten. I can still walk. Its just a small cold" proceeds to fall into a sneezing fit

When he's in his demon form, his tail sticks straight up when he sneezes-

Y'all gonna make me write an entire headcanon about how they sneeze I fucking swear.

Back on topic, Satan would like to have a book read to him while he's sick. Sometimes his vision gets a lil foggy and his head gets cloudy

Let him lay his head on your lap by the fire place. Run your hands through his hair and read him a novel.

After his initial fit of "fuck you i'm a big boy," he was by far the easiest to take care of

Any time you tell him to take a medicine, eat something, drink something, blow his nose, or get some rest he listens

Well now that he knows you have best intent in mind

And deep deep deep down in his aggressive heart, he kind of enjoys being bossed around by you

Lust

Asmodeus would be almost Mammon levels of whiny

"MC, am I still beautiful even though my nose is runny?"

"MC, I feel too heavy to walk to the bathroom and do my skincare. Can you do it?"

"MMMCCCCC~ come give me cuddles"

"MC! Feed me my medicine~"

On that note, Asmo doesn't care what you bring him as long as you feed it to him

He'll make it sensual as hell too

Will still try to kiss you all the time if you're okay with it

And you bet he'd be like, "You know what would make me feel better?" And definitely try to get in your pants.

Touch him literally anywhere. He won't care if its his face, dick, or left pinky toe. Just give him your love

Cuddle sessions will be a lot more loving.

Don't get me wrong, Asmo cuddle sessions are already very loving and sensual, but when he's siiiick

He's so so so SO soft

Professes his love for you at least once a day

Wants gentle kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and nose

Honestly, Asmo overall just wants to be held, loved, and taken good care of

You wouldn't be allowed to sleep in your room anymore. He wants your attention and care at all times.

Gluttony

How did you even get sick!?

You're h u g e man, and an athlete, you think you'd have more of a tolerance?????

Okay so on the slim chance that Beelzebub is sick

He is sO GOOD about letting you take care of him

You want him to take this medicine when the alarm rings? He'll down it before dismissing it!

You want him to drink this tea you gave him? It's delicious, MC~

Eat the soup? S a y l e s s

No Beel- you have to drink it slowly or else it won't help as much

Okay so he'll struggle a little bit on that part but he will do his best because he loves you and wants to make you proud.

Beelzebub would like it if during your sick cuddles, you laid on top of him while he had his arms around you

You take so much care of him, he wants to feel like he's caring for you too

Fever High Beel is chatty, honestly when you know Beel personally hes chatty anyways but he's worse under a sick spell

Will ask you literally every philosophical question that settles in his brain for at least a second

Some of them are straight up weird though man

"Why is there a D in fridge but not refrigerator?" Is one he has asked m u l t i p l e times.

Beel is a good puppy 💕

Sloth

Like his twin, Belphie is veryyyy easy to take care of when he's sick

He doesn't... Do much so it's not like he's gonna hop out of bed and run away from the medicine

Just opens his mouth with a little "ahh~" sound and drinks or eats whatever you shove in his face

He's moody sick though

Well he's always a little moody but when he's sick he's probably a grumpy ass boy

"Ehh, MC why am I sick again? All I smell is snot" he would huff

Likes to pick at your brain a little bit when he's sick

Just really loves listening to you talk all the time and it keeps him occupied enough when he feels like shit and you're there to go on the cute little rambles he loves

Being groggy helps him sleep better, so expect this beautiful little cowboy to pull you in for some more naps with him~

#omswd #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me belphagor #obey me belphie #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #omswd belphie

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

So @petrichordiam and I are menaces and giggled over our ideal dinluke flower shop AU for like 4 hrs and then I wrote this.

Title: murderer next door

Summary: Din works as a florist and Luke works as a bookseller and they’re both assassins trying to keep the other off their turf.

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

Two times now, Luke had crashed past that flower shop, and two times now, the fucker inside had taken out his mark. Now all Luke had to say about the whole thing was that it was too bad that he was going to have to kill the guy.

Han told him not to turn back. The mark was dead; the mark was gone. They weren’t fast enough this time, but there would be others.

Luke just couldn’t let it go, though. He had rent to pay, and McFloristApron over there was smashing through all his targets and making that nigh impossible—regardless of how many marks there were in the area.

Luke waited until Han had closed up shop for the night and remained there in the dark with his arm slung over the back of the chair in the backroom, surrounded by books. He rolled his shot of whiskey in its tumbler. The sound against the old wood table offered no comfort.

He stood up and left the glass to get his laptop.

He wasn’t losing to some florist, Han, sorry. Only one family could take innocuous cover on this street, and it was them.

---

McFlorist’s name wasn’t listed on the florist’s staff page, but then again, none of the people on that page had names. In fact, the website’s whole vibe was all wedding-chic until you clicked on the ‘staff and contacts’ tab. Then, it may as well have been a line of mugshots.

Luke squinted along the row of increasingly involved headgear until he got to someone with a reasonably-sized neck with no tats. The ladies on either side of him appeared to have sapped all the ink out of McFloristApron. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and gave a stoic thumbs up to the camera.

Under his picture was the number fifteen.

Damn.

Luke was only making eight per pop. Who the hell was this guy eating up all the feeder fish, huh? Them lower division folks had to eat too, you know.

Well.

‘Lower division’ in a sense of the word. Being two times undercover wasn’t super glamorous, Luke had to say. But when your dad fucked it up for the first family, sometimes you had to take what you could get.

Luke pointed at Fifteen on the screen.

“You and me, pal,” he said. “You and me.”

Step one was to get paid first.

Luke chased down three marks on the other side of town to pay the rent and the medical bills for now. His hand’s new sleeve felt like a dream. It didn’t overheat like the nylon black one did, and the hand was far less shiny now as a bonus. That had certainly reduced the number of people catching something move out of the corner of their eye.

Was it worth fifty grand?

No.

Was it worth the last nine that Luke had left to pay on it?

Yeah. It was definitely worth the nine.

------

Step two was to go make it clear to Fifteen McFlorist that he and his folks needed to back down in the face of the established guard.

Luke put on his biggest sweater and the thickest glasses he could find. He stole Chewie’s messenger bag with all the pins on it. He slung it over his shoulder and rolled the hems of his jeans up just a smidge too much, then scurried over to the florist’s across the way.

Fifteen was off to the side of the register, fucking around with something in the refrigerator. Luke busily and noisily looked through the wall of foliage on the side of the shop nearest the window. He hummed. He hawed. He made anxious nerd-sounds until a voice asked, “Hi, can I help you?”

Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye and found that Fifteen was standing facing his way now. His mask was gray this time. His apron was orange. His boots were too heavy-looking for florist work.

“I’d love that,” Luke gushed breathlessly. “See, my mom just got engaged and I’m on the way to her house.”

Fifteen lifted his chin slightly.

“What’re her favorites?” he asked tonelessly.

Terrible customer service skills, dude.

“Roses,” Luke said.

“Ours are shit today,” Fifteen said. “How about dahlias?”

Luke didn’t know what those were but sure.

“That sounds great,” he said. “You have any in pink?”

--------

He watched Fifteen brutalize some pink, orange, and white flowers into a bouquet wrapped with a silver bow and was sure to smile every time the guy looked up.

“That’ll be $37.59.”

Sir, these are dead flowers. There is no need for that price.

“Can I put it on card?” Luke asked. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking? I work just across the way is all.”

Fifteen’s dark gaze flicked up. His hair was covered by a gray beanie two shades darker than the mask.

“At the club?” he asked.

“The bookshop,” Luke corrected him with a shy, but widening smile.

Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay. Leia wasn’t going to want to cooperate. She thought it was beneath her to establish boundaries like this.

“Blue paint,” Fifteen said. “Yeah, that place. How long have you been there?”

“My brother-in-law’s place, actually,” Luke said. “I started there last year after I finished college.”

Or, you know, maybe even eight years ago when he’d finished college. No one had to know. Baby faces don’t kiss and tell after all.

“Huh. You must like it there,” Fifteen said.

“It’s fine,” Luke hummed. “You like it here?”

“The kid does.”

“Oh, you’re a father?” Luke asked. “How old?”

“He’s three,” Fifteen said. “Godson. His folks were in an accident; didn’t make it.”

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Luke said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Fifteen handed him his card back. Luke’s hand didn’t close in time to catch it and it fell onto to the wooden counter.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, reaching for it with the other hand. His knuckles bumped into Fifteen’s when he went for the card at the same time. They both paused and went for the card again with the same result. Luke laughed.

“Slippery, am I right?” he asked, flattening his fingers on top of the piece of plastic and snatching it away.

“Very,” Fifteen said. “I hope your mom likes them.”

“Me too,” Luke smiled. “I’ll see you around—What was your name?”

“You can call me Armando,” Fifteen said.

“Armando,” Luke sounded out. “It suits you.”

It was a falsie.

“And yours?”

“James.”

“It suits you.”

It didn’t.

“Bye now,” Luke said. “Thanks for your help.”

He let the door fall closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell.

--------

He informed Han that “Armando” had a toddler and received only a warning look and a scolding for all his effort. Han told him not to get jealous. If there was a kid in the balance, then Fifteen, for better or worse, was going to have to see each day after the next until there was no longer a kid in the balance.

Luke offered to call CPS and report “Armando” as an assassin.

“You do that and those folks across the street are gonna call the VA and tell them I’m an assassin,” Han said. “Lay low, Luke. Lay low.”

Never.

“Christ. At least until that thing’s yours then.”

Luke glared at his right hand.

“Gimme a double,” he told Han without looking away from it.

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

It was never easy to hunt in the daylight, but Luke wasn’t here to do easy things. He needed to get Mark No. 1 alone. The man took the train once a week to a gentleman’s club on his lunch break. Luke needed a change of clothes.

He had a rainbow windbreaker, white boots, and fishnets all ready to go.

He got on the same train as the mark and dropped his phone nearby. It clattered loudly and the case came off. Luke swore and squatted to drop it at the same time that two girls next to him decided to become good Samaritans. They crouched with him and one of them caught the phone first. They handed it back with a smile.

“I like your jacket,” she said.

Luke let his face struggle to find a smile at her kindness to him, a sweet little twink trying to find the pride parade that happened two weeks ago.

“Thanks,” he said. “I like your bracelet.”

He stood up. The girls were pleased with themselves. Luke glanced back to find Mark No. 1 turn his head abruptly away.

Come here, Markie.

Do you like what you see?

Mark No. 1 didn’t make it out of his hotel room. A pity. Luke took the elevator down and huffed and puffed about a cheap date when he passed the front desk. He stopped abruptly and went back to ask the receptionist what the cross street was. She judged his go-go boots.

He told her she wasn’t his type. Her manager gave him the cross street.

Mark No. 2 had different parameters.

----------

Mark No. 2’s parameters involved chasing him through a maze of boiler rooms and dumpsters. He was chump change towards a hand that Luke hadn’t wanted in the first place, but alas. The anger still roared.

Luke cornered him, still in go-go boots—no need to sacrifice style for speed—and watched those pale eyes look every which way as Mark No. 2 realized that there was no getting out of this.

“You got options, friend,” Luke said. “I can bring you in hot or I can bring you in—”

“—cold.”

His head snapped up and he lurched out of the way just as the crack of a bullet exploded in the alley. A car backfired around the corner in a sympathetic cough. Luke stared at the body then twisted around just in time for a thick glove to latch onto the back of his neck.

“Well, look who it is,” Fifteen drawled.

Luke glared out of the corner of his eye.

“Hands off, Armando,” he warned.

“I like your boots.”

“You’re gonna love ‘em when they’re on your dick,” Luke warned.

“Back off, Nayberry.”

Fucking hell, Han. This is why they should have set up boundaries weeks ago.

“I prefer ‘James,’” Luke said sweetly.

The glock levelled at his face didn’t care.

“You took my mark,” Fifteen said.

“Aw, poor baby,” Luke pouted. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took mine.”

Fifteen’s orange apron was gone. He’d swapped it for an old leather jacket—something he could more easily wipe clean. He should’ve gone for patent leather. The brown really wasn’t working with his grey mask-beanie situation.

“Stay in your lane,” Fifteen warned.

“Only if you stay in yours,” Luke beamed.

Fifteen huffed.

“Bookstore,” he scoffed. “Who’d you give the flowers to?”

Luke tsked.

“Myself, jackass,” he said.

“Do you even have a mom?”

“What the fuck business is that of yours? You even got a kid?”

Fifteen’s stare was deadly—the cooling body before them notwithstanding.

“Take one step near him and we won’t be talkin’ so friendly, yeah?”

Mm. Yeah.

“You owe me four grand,” Luke informed Fifteen as the glock went down and Fifteen left him to go take a pulse.

The man’s back stiffened.

“Four?” he asked. “You took this job for four?”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“I got bills, Armando,” he drawled.

“How do you keep that shed open? Have you sold even one book?”

Rude. Luke was a great sales associate. If he actually cared to put his mind to it, he’d be worthy of a promotion to manager.

He pulled the rising legs of his shorts down and adjusted the weapon in his windbreaker. He couldn’t leave the alley the way he’d gone into it. Someone might have seen. He was going to have to take a side street. Hmmm, which one? Choices, choices.

“I’ll give you a Dad’s discount. Gimme two grand, and you can have him,” Luke negotiated as he thought.

“Two.”

Hey, no need for that tone. This was a great deal.

“What’re you gonna do with two?” Fifteen asked, already knelling down to heft the body over his shoulder as proof for payment.

“Buy some more tights,” Luke deadpanned. “Two, final offer.”

Fifteen stood up all the way and gave him a weird look. A long look. His beanie was pulled down low, but Luke got the impression that he was frowning at him.

“Take the four,” he said out of nowhere. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Luke recoiled a step at first, then recoiled another when the reality of the situation hit him full in the chest.

“Forget it,” he snapped.

He spun around and started to leave.

“Wh—hey. HEY. Where are you goin’?”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Luke called ahead of him as he set to climbing the chainlink fence separating him from the adjacent dead-end alley.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Luke said.

He jumped down. His left hand found his right wrist and squeezed as he walked.

-------

The phantom pains kept him up all night, and it was definitely that and not the humiliation that made him call in sick. Han told him to answer his therapist’s emails. Luke told him to go do something useful and hung up. He rolled onto his back on his bed and focused on letting his body relax, his jaw unclench, his joints go limp.

There was sunlight finally streaming through his apartment windows again. It had been months.

Spring was almost here. He just had to hold out a little longer.

--------

He came in to work the next day and found an envelope on his chair in the backroom. It was thick.

“McFlorist dropped it off,” he said between aggravated sounds at his spreadsheets.

“Is it tax season already?” Luke asked him as he tried to burn a whole in the center of the envelope with his mind.

“Sure fuckin’ is.”

He stepped forward and snatched up the envelope, then deposited it squarely in Han’s lap. He made an unattractive noise of confusion and alarm.

“For the taxes,” Luke called as he went out to grab his lanyard and name tag. “Gotta keep this place open for another six months at least.”

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

There were new books in. A new shipment to shelve. Two kids’ displays to set up. And Luke was actually good at this stuff, thanks; he started stacking.

He got peace until he nearly got to the end of the second display, and then what he had was a heart attack. Two liquid brown eyes surrounded by an ocean of ringlets stared up at him from between his knees. The child curled a hand in and out in hello.

Luke jerked himself up to locate the thing’s parents immediately, and promptly found himself in deadly eye-contact with Fifteen.

Armando.

“You were gone yesterday,” Fifteen said flatly.

Luke looked between him and the kid. He was pinned between two enemy parties. How to escape, how to escape.

“Are you sick?”

How to escape. How to escape. How to escape.

“Are you hurt?”

H—what?

“I’m fine, stalker,” Luke snapped with more heat than this present cover allowed. He caught himself and pulled it back. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Thank you for asking. Is this…?”

Fifteen blinked once. The child blinked once as well. It was creepy.

“He’s mine,” Fifteen said. “And apparently the only thing that will get us through the next two hours is a book.”

Dude.

“Kids are kids,” Fifteen said. “You got any books?”

Luke stared at him, then checked the shelves to make sure he hadn’t teleported into another dimension.

You always had to check.

“We’re in a bookstore,” he said.

“He can’t read,” Fifteen said, pointing.

The kid grinned. His teeth were gapped in that toddler sort of way. He was kind of cute.

“You can’t read?” Luke asked him.

“Hi,” Baby said.

Oh no.

Luke loved him.

“How much?” he asked Fifteen.

“Touch him and you’ll be permanently comatose,” Fifteen said.

“Not if I died out of spite,” Luke said.

There was a long pause. Then Fifteen started laughing? Kind of hard?

“Oh my god, that was so unprofessional. I am so sorry,” Luke blurted out.

Fifteen collected himself and shook his head. His little one giggled and reached for Luke’s fingers.

“Boo,” he said.

Luke couldn’t feel the hand, but he could feel all the heart.

“Book?” he asked, crouching down. “Do you want a story?”

“Mmmm.”

“I have the perfect one,” Luke told him. “It’s about a caterpillar. Do you know what a caterpillar is?”

He got a slow, exaggerated head shake back and forth, back and forth. He stood up straight.

“I’m conducting a temporary kidnapping,” he informed Fifteen. “Do I have consent?”

Fifteen looked from him towards the front entrance and mulled over the merits of leaving his kid with his rival assassin. Then he shrugged.

“Consent granted,” he said. “Luke.”

Luke’s heart stopped.

“James,” he said.

“Your name tag says ‘Luke.’”

Well, fuck.

“Luke Nayberry. It suits you.”

Hhhhhhh. This was karma, wasn’t it.

“Thanks,” he gritted out. “And yourself, Armando?”

“Din.”

Woah, look out. Mr. One-Syllable-Cool-Man had entered the building.

“Din, what?” Luke asked as his arm registered tension. Din’s kid had latched onto his fingers and started pulling incessantly with a chubby hand gesturing in the direction of the wall of children’s books.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Din said.

“Fine, go trip then,” Luke said.

He swore that there was a smile under that mask.

----------

#dinluke #luke skywalker #ficlet #fic #I can't take any trope seriously it turns out #perhaps I am simply too old now to appreciate them #the mandalorian

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teenwolfsnippets · 3 years

Text

Neighbors

“Dude, I think we have new neighbors,” Scott says as he closes the front door.

Stiles is sprawled out on the couch, feet in the air, textbooks spread around him. He was studying for his Criminology test that needs to be finished by tomorrow, but he got distracted by sexy posts of Dean Winchester. No one can blame him really.

“Um, hello, earth to Stiles!”

“Huh? What?” he asks, startled.

Scott sighs and trudges further into the room. He shoves some of the books out of the way and plops onto the couch. Stiles frowns at him as his laptop is jostled.

“I said, I think we have new neighbors.”

“Gee, what was your first clue? The mountain of boxes in the hall, the shouting match said new neighbors have been having for the past two hours, or the slamming of their door every ten minutes? I can’t decide which I love more,” he grumbles.

“Oh man. It’s been that bad?” Scott whines.

“Worse, dude, worse,” Stiles sighs.

“Okay, so, do we avoid them or welcome them to the building?”

“I’d vote for avoidance, but I think I’d feel shitty about it later,” he admits.

“Same here. Next question, do we wait a few days or just get it over with now?” Scott asks, biting his lip.

“Make it quick, like a band aid.”

“Agreed. Wanna go together?” Scott asks hopefully.

Stiles snorts and punches him in the shoulder.

“No need for puppy eyes. Like I was gonna let you go over there on your own. Pretty sure you’d die, dude.”

“That’s not reassuring, like at all.”

Scott full on pouts and slumps into the cushions. Stiles shakes his head fondly.

“I suggest we go in with a plan. I think the best move is to approach the guy first because honestly, I think the girl might be possessed by Satan.”

Scott snorts, but at Stiles’ straight face he quickly gapes and shrinks deeper into the couch.

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t wanna-”

“Nope, too late, Scotty,” Stiles says, dragging his friend to his feet.

They were going to get off on the right foot for once with their neighbors. The last people slammed the door in his face every single time he knocked. He’s really hoping these new people will be better.

They’re not in the hallway five seconds when raised voices echo through the closed door.

“Get out of my face, Derek!”

“I wouldn’t be in your face if you weren’t lying to me!”

“Oh my god, are you seriously lecturing me about lying right now?!”

“Don’t turn this around on me!”

“Why shouldn’t I?! You’re the one that lied to me for years-”

The screaming is cut off with a loud crash, glass obviously scattering on the floor.

“Oh real fucking mature, dick head!”

Another crash.

“That’s right, throw a fucking tantrum! Little baby Derek isn’t getting his way, so-”

“Get out!”

Both Scott and Stiles jump at the shout, alarmed by the anger behind it.

“Don’t worry, I will! You’re a piece of shit brother, you know that?!”

“Go the fuck away!”

“I fucking hate you!”

“I don’t care!”

Things were still being thrown around the apartment, making Stiles think the girl joined in said tantrum.

“I wish it’d been you! I wish you were dead!”

Dead silence rang through the hallway. Scott and Stiles glanced at each other, still frozen in their open doorway. There was quiet mumbling from inside until the door was ripped open. Stiles’ eyes widen as an extremely attractive man stomps out of the apartment, pulling on a leather jacket, keys in hand. His stubble looks perfectly groomed and Stiles has the sudden urge to pet his entire face. He didn’t, obviously, he knows what boundaries are. The guy is built like a fucking mountain and, holy hot damn, Stiles wants to get all up on that.

The man doesn’t notice them staring and makes a hasty retreat away from the girl that’s standing in the doorway.

“Derek, wait! I’m sorry,” she calls.

The guy ignores the plea and storms down the staircase. Stiles looks the girl over, mouth slightly agape. She’s gorgeous. Her brunette hair hanging in soft waves around her shoulders, her slim physique on display with somewhat tight and revealing clothing. Scott elbows him frantically, eyes wide in surprise. Stiles nods in response.

The girl turns then, finally noticing them standing there staring.

“Can I help you?” she asks, arms crossing.

“Um, sorry, I mean we were just, uh…,” Scott trails off, flustered.

He elbows Stiles a little too hard, making him yelp.

“Stiles?” he asks pathetically.

He pushes the elbow out of his side and plasters on a friendly smile.

“We were just coming to welcome you to the building,” he says a bit sheepishly.

The brunette simply raises a brow, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Stiles fidgets and glances around the hallway.

“Would you like some help with the boxes?” he offers.

He was still determined to make this work even if he was afraid she was gonna murder him in his sleep.

Surprising him, she sighs heavily and says, “That would be nice, actually.”

Stiles grins and steps forward to introduce himself properly.

“I’m Stiles by the way,” he says.

She shakes his hand and he does his best not to wince. Seriously, was it necessary for her to try to break every bone in his hand?

“And this is Scott,” he adds, pointing to his friend.

Scott doesn’t manage to hide his wince at all and quickly retracts his hand.

“Um, I’d love to help, but I, uh, have to go meet my girlfriend, somewhere,” he mutters before scurrying away as fast as he can.

Stiles scoffs at the blatant lie, considering he knows Kira is at work until later tonight.

“Smooth,” she snorts.

Stiles shrugs about it, not defending his traitorous friend.

“I’m Cora, by the way,” she says, repeating him. “You gonna help me with these or what?” she asks, pointing to the boxes.

“Right, sure,” he says, nodding.

He manages not to embarrass himself as he lugs in the heavy boxes, only stumbling once.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #derek hale #cora hale #sterek #fanfiction #flashfiction #short stories #human au

62 notes · View notes

iphoenixrising · 3 years

Note

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh.

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR:

Mentions of child abuse

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed.

Extreme mental and emotional HURT

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad

You’ve been warned :D

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum.

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em. I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please, don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself.

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table.

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything.

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system.

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least.

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

#winter answers #doctor!tim #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #read at your own risk #read the warnings #hurt/comfort #fear gas #holy shit tim #you will cry #but it's worth it #my fic #my writing #dickjaytim #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cuddle tf out of our boy #bruce wayne

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anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Worth it

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: When you finally notice how Reginald treats Diego you can't help but call him out on his bullshit.

A/N: Even if this reminded me of just how much I hate Reginald, I actually had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you like it too!

Warnings: angst, smoking, swearing and just Reginald being a dick as usual.

Meeting your boyfriend's family should be fun. That's what you kept telling yourself, but in reality, it scared the shit out of you to meet the man that starred in Diego’s nightmares.

The worst part of it was that you didn't even know what to expect. You knew it was hard for Diego to open up, especially about his family and upbringing, but it was really complicated to comfort him sometimes when you couldn't understand how. You hoped you could learn some more the day you two had dinner with Allison and Vanya, but it seemed to be a difficult subject for all of them, and you weren't about to ask the girls you'd just met about their deepest traumas.

For now, you just placed your hand on his shaking thigh as he pulled over in front of the biggest house you had seen. He tried to give you a reassuring smile but he couldn't hide the anxiety in his eyes.

"Look, we're here to check on your mom, right? So let's just hope there's no one else home, and if they are then I'll be right beside you, okay? You're not alone baby." You placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead, as lovingly as it was possible.

"Let's go now, I'm sure mom's gonna love you." There he was again, avoiding that conversation.

And so you both walked up to the unmistakable entrance to the famous Umbrella Academy, a place that looked like anything but a home. You weren’t going to tell him, but something about the house’s energy made you want to take his hand and run away from there.

Thankfully, after a few knocks on the door, a beautiful woman with kind eyes and a big smile opened up. It was Grace, Diego’s beloved mother, and the warmth that came from her took away all your worries as she gave you a tight hug, as if you’d known each other all along.

“So you must be the gorgeous Y/N Diego keeps talking about! I’m Grace, nice to meet you.” She walked over to him and hugged him as she had done with you. Your heart melted in your chest as you noticed how much calmer he seemed now that her arms where around him. She reminded you of your own mother, and you also felt much better knowing that someone was already giving your boyfriend all the love that he deserved.

But of course, someone had to ruin it, because happy moments couldn’t last long in his presence.

“What is this nonsense? Break it up right now! You know displays of affection can only last two minutes maximum. Go finish your chores Grace.” Reginald Hargreeve’s legendary voice seemed to echo in your ears for as long as it took him to come down the stairs and push Grace out of the way, already acting like the bastard you expected him to be, but he hadn’t noticed you yet, or he didn’t even care.

“What are you doing here Number Two? Have you come to mend your innumerable mistakes and rejoin your brother on the missions?” He started walking closer and closer until he was facing Diego directly, never breaking eye contact and barely even blinking. He looked unhuman and it unsettled you.

“N-no, sir I-”

“Well then you are not welcome here. And I don’t understand why you even bother bringing a woman.” The way he said those last words made you shiver, and he still wouldn’t even give you a small look, he kept staring at your boyfriend as if he was the most disgusting thing he’d seen. You hated it. “You should remember that your mother is merely a replica of a human being, she can not produce real emotions and she certainly can not comment on your little friend here, so you better leave with her and never come back unless you finally plan on being useful.”

Somewhere along his hate speech Diego had pulled you behind him, as if he could protect you from his words with his strong body or even worst, as if he thought Reginald would actually physically harm you.

But you were done with it. You were done with his so called father and you had to let him know, so before he could turn towards the door you took his protective arm off your body and you stepped right in front of the monster that was haunting him.

“You know what’s your problem sir? You think you are so damn perfect because you created these amazing superheroes but in reality all you did was damage a bunch of perfectly healthy kids, and thankfully they turned out to be incredible human beings in spite of your horrendous methods of parenting but you can’t even see that because you are so fucking full of yourself!” You were so angry you didn’t even realize what your hands were doing, you had pushed him several times in the chest, but the man was standing still, completely unbothered by your rant, which only made it worse for you.

“And you wanna know why I came here? Because Diego is worth it. Yes, Diego, the actual man that he is and not the number you wanted him to be. I love this man more than I could possibly say, more than your sorry ass can even understand, because Grace might not feel the way we do, but I’m pretty sure even what you call a replica of a human being has more emotions than you do. I’m here to meet her because he’s worth it, and I’m yelling at you for the same damn reason, so next time you try to tell him he can’t visit his own mother, remember why all of your children left you here alone, because none of them want to see your disgusting face.”

And with that you left, slamming the door behind you. You could have sworn that his monocle fell of his face as you pushed him one last time, which you would have loved to see, but you weren’t going back in there, and right now all you needed was a cigarrette.

You were leaning on Diego’s car, smoking while trying to calm your uneven breathing when you saw him coming towards you. You almost forgot the fact that your words might have hurted him and you were ready to apologize when he lifted you in the air and twirled you around a few times before putting you in the ground and kissing you in a way he never had, as if the world was going to end in any minute.

“I love you so fucking much. Let’s get out of here.” He said, kissing your forhead the same way you had kissed his at the beginning of the day.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #umbrella acedmy #umbrella academy fanfic #diego hargreeves angst #angst #umbrella academy angst

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Dive Bar, Ch 8/?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he) | Sam x OMC (Chase) brief

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 3,631

Tags: Awful flirting (but I’m not sorry), gay panic, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts, male masturbation, blow job, rimming, anal sex, cock ring (? kinda)

Warnings: thoughts about to brother/brother incest

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr, actual angel 😇

Divider: @firefly-graphics ❤️

Sam looked up at the sound of slow clapping, expecting it to be Dean returning with their refills just in time to see Sam pot the last ball. But he couldn’t see Dean, and it took him a moment to identify the clapper as the guy with dark blonde hair strolling towards him with a look of contemplation on his slim face.

“That was pretty impressive,” the guy nodded at the pool table, and Sam straightened up a little, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh, thanks,” Sam shrugged, the game he’d felt so proud of - and wanted to rub in Dean’s face a moment ago - now making him feel self conscious. He hadn’t meant to draw any kind of attention to himself. That was normally Dean’s forte.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“My um, my brother taught me.” Sam clutched the pool cue between his hands, eyes darting around and landing on Dean at the bar. His breath eased a little once he knew where he was. The new guy’s eyes followed Sam’s and found him watching Dean at the bar.

“That guy’s your brother?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded cautiously.

“Well, that is a relief,” he laughed fully, openly.

Sam was taken aback. “Why?”

“Because if he was your boyfriend I was probably gonna get beat up for hitting on you.” He smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling, but still a little shy.

Sam blinked, dumbfounded. He didn’t know why he hadn’t been expecting it. He’d had a suspicion that this place was an LGBT haunt based on the number of same-sex couples he’d noticed dotted around, but that hadn’t led him to the conclusion that he’d maybe have an opportunity he hadn’t had since Dean had picked him up from Stanford. Sam glanced nervously back to Dean at the bar, watching him knock back a shot of something, not paying attention to his little brother. But why did Sam even care if Dean saw him talking to this guy? He breathed out sharply when he realised that he didn’t have to hide this from Dean - he’d come out to him last month. He didn’t have to be worried about what Dean thought if he saw him talking to - what was this guy’s name?

“I’m Sam,” Sam offered his hand, and the man took it, shaking it firmly. Sam noticed how smooth the guy’s hands were.

“Chase,” he smiled wider still, like he couldn’t believe Sam was actually having a conversation with him.

“So are you, uh, here with anyone?” Sam wasn’t used to making small talk anymore. The only people he talked to were Dean or law enforcement - or witnesses to supernatural phenomena.

“A few friends,” Chase nodded behind him, but not with enough direction for Sam to actually tell which table of people he might have been talking about.

“Do you, um,” Sam let out a sharp, amused exhale, not really believing he was actually doing this. “D’ya want to have a drink?”

Chase smiled brightly. “Yeah, I’d love that,” he nodded, and the pair started towards the bar. “Then maybe you’ll be so kind as to show me just how you play that game over there?”

Sam grinned, this guy was pulling out a classic, but it was a good one.

“You want me to teach you how to play pool?” he smirked and moved closer behind Chase, bracing his hands on the bar on either side of him, and ducked down to speak against his ear. “I should warn you, I’m a pretty hands on teacher.” Sam felt Chase grin, even though he couldn’t see his face.

“I think I’m counting on it. I might need a lot of hand holding,” Chase laughed at his own joke, probably realising how lame it was, but Sam thought it was cute.

While Chase ordered drinks, Sam glanced over his shoulder across the bar and caught Dean looking right at them. Sam blushed under his brother’s intense gaze, a little embarrassed that Dean had been watching him come onto this guy so strongly. But how was that different to any time Sam had to watch Dean flirt his way through every available pair of boobs in these joints? He decided it wasn’t; he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. Sam gave Chase a once over from behind, eyes lingering on his ass. Yeah, definitely not ashamed of this, Sam resolved. He flicked his eyes back up to meet Dean’s again and gave him a bold wink.

Dean’s face was blank, but his gaze wavered between shock and dread. He’d never seen Sam flirt so blatantly with anyone before. He’d never seen Sam flirt with a guy before either, but he guessed he should have expected that to happen eventually. It hadn’t really hit him before now what Sam being bi really meant. It wasn’t just that he was happy to have a threesome that involved two guys instead of two girls, it meant that sometimes he would want to sleep with guys, just because.

The pride Dean usually felt when Sam successfully picked up a chick wasn’t making an appearance right now, though. This was different. Dean reluctantly realised that the difference here was jealousy. He looked at the guy Sam was pressed up against and took in the spiky hair, the henley pulled across decently toned muscles, the black leather cord he wore as a necklace. He was about Dean’s height judging where he stood against Sam. Angry voices inside him shouted at Dean to break it up, stop Sammy from doing this, protect him, though from what, the voices didn’t care to elaborate. Hopeful voices inside tried to soothe his anger. Telling him that maybe Sam wasn’t with him now, but the guy he was with looked just a little like Dean… maybe… and what if that meant that Sam was drawn to him for that reason?

Dean shut down that internal dialogue with a grimace, and ordered another shot. He wasn’t gonna stay here and watch Sam hit on some guy without getting drunk.

Sam and Chase were two drinks in and back by the pool table, and Sam was having more fun than he could remember having in a long time. Watching Chase bend over the table, ass pressing tight against his jeans, and knowing that he was doing it so Sam could look… it was exhilarating. Even the vague prickling on the back of his neck every time Dean looked over at them gravely didn’t spoil Sam’s mood. He knew his brother was just being an overprotective ass.

Chase shot him a coy smile over his shoulder, still bent over trying to corral all the balls into their frame. Sam grinned back freely, eyes glinting with want that he knew Chase could see.

“You gonna show me how to hold this stick?”

“I’m gonna show you so much more than that,” Sam promised. He pressed against him and threaded his arms through the smaller man’s, slotting their hips and their hands together. “You want to hold it firmly, but not too tight. Just give it a little squeeze.”

Chase burst out laughing, shaking Sam off his body. Sam stood back, confused and a little offended at the reaction. Chase’s eyes glinted under the fluorescent light hanging above them.

“I’m sorry man,” he stifled another laugh and tried again. “Sorry, I just, I couldn’t not think about the innuendo there.” Sam smirked and moved back to Chase, bending him back over and leaning into him heavily.

“That was sorta the point man,” Sam breathed in his ear. “Now, put your hands back on that long piece of wood and do as you’re told.”

Sam realised then that he had been repressing this part of himself for far too long. Or at least his dick thought so, because it was paying quite a bit more attention than it usually did in public.

He was never shy about wanting to be the one in control in the bedroom, but with girls, he never really knew how they would take it. He always worried about hurting them if he was being too rough. With guys it felt a little different, he felt a little freer, like he didn’t have to be scared of throwing them around as much. And he’d had enough to drink that his filter wasn’t inclined to hold him back anymore. The shiver that had run through Chase at Sam’s words only solidified Sam’s resolve to take this guy home and absolutely wreck him.

Dean thought he was gonna be sick. Most people would think that was down to the amount of alcohol he’d just downed in such a short span of time - switching to tequila had either been a very good or a very bad decision on Dean’s part - but in actuality, he was still on the good side of drunk. The thing churning his stomach and pulling him apart from the inside was what he was watching his baby brother do to that twink pressed against the pool table across the bar.

Jesus, they were in public and Sam was practically dry humping the dude. At least respectable people would go to a club and hide behind dancing as an excuse. But there was his brother, his little kid brother, practically fucking some stranger right in the middle of the room. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

Dean had never seen Sam so blatantly sexual before. Well no - that was a lie - he had seen him that way once, when he’d been pounding into Dany so hard he shook the bed, and looked right at Dean when he’d broken down inside her, staring right into his eyes as he came undone. But the way Sam was looking at him had Dean believing that, maybe, Sam wasn't thinking about Dany at all.

Dean wanted to pretend that he was only offended by the sight before him because it was indecent - not cool, bro - but if the guy below Sam had been him, he wouldn’t have given two fucks how decent they looked, so long as Sam showed everyone watching that it was them who belonged together. That Sam belonged to him, inside him. His.

Chase was a horrible pool player. But that might have more to do with the fact that Sam was grinding a semi against his ass every time he helped him line up a shot. Poor guy had to be at least a little distracted. After two games of utter domination from Sam, he took pity on his playmate and graciously bought him a drink to mellow the loss.

Locking eyes over the wet edged shot glasses, Sam tipped his back and swallowed, long and deep. Sam watched as Chase’s eyes traced his throat and down into the v-neck of the t-shirt he’d revealed when he unbuttoned his flannel during the second game. His eyes settled there for a moment, and Sam wondered how long he would linger there before he caught himself. His breathing quickened slightly - bringing his chest up and down with it, and Chase continued to stare. The attention only aroused Sam more. But it was over when Chase blinked harshly, and brought his eyes back to Sam’s, looking a little startled.

“What?” he said stupidly, fingers slipping on his glass, still full and hanging in front of his lips.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Sam enunciated, a knowing smirk back on his lips.

“Yeah,” Chase nodded and downed his own drink, licking his lips to catch the drop of alcohol that had spilled over. Sam’s eyes locked on his tongue and followed it back inside Chase’s mouth. Their lips met briefly, Sam pulling back almost immediately to check he hadn’t misjudged things - to check he was actually about to follow through on going home with this guy.

Chase’s face was hot, colour staining his already sun-kissed skin, eyes wide like he was staring into the sun. Sam jerked his chin towards the door, brows raised, and Chase nodded and leant in close so Sam could hear him better. “I’m just gonna grab my things, meet you outside?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded and squeezed Chase’s arm in reassurance. “I’m just going to let my brother know where I’m headed.” Sam jerked his head to where he had clocked Dean hunched in a booth nursing a hefty glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Sam slid into the seat across from Dean, slapping a rhythm against the table as he sat down.

“Someone’s chipper,” Dean grunted sourly, taking a swig of his drink.

“Someone’s bummed out.”

Sam’s sass tugged at the corner’s of Dean’s lips. but he didn’t let it get an actual smile out of him.

“Sorry the girls here weren’t exactly ‘your scene’,” Sam did look a little apologetic, but he couldn’t wipe the smug excitement off his stupid face.

“Yeah, well,” Dean grunted again, and knocked back more of the burning liquid, “about time you got laid, was beginning to think you’d accidentally pulled it off from jerking too much.”

“Ew, dude, gross,” Sam grimaced. “How would you know how much I jerk off, anyways?”

“We live in each other’s asses, Sam,” Dean excused, not caring to mention the fact that he knows Sam’s jerked off in the shower every night since he’d picked him up from Stanford, and he’s spent the last month joining in from the other side of the door. Choking down the jealousy and shame that came with it, Dean pushed Sam out of the booth with his foot. “Now go on and fuck your little boy toy, he’s over there waiting for you.”

Sure enough, when Sam checked over his shoulder, he saw Chase waiting anxiously by the door.

“You gonna be alright, man? You got a motel key?”

“Fuck off,” Dean grumbled, and watched sullenly as Sam made his way through the crowds of people to the door, slipping out behind his company for the evening. Dean knocked back the rest of his glass and stood, stretching the stiffness out of his joints. He didn’t want to stay here, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go besides the motel room. Remembering they had passed a convenience store on their walk here, Dean figured drinking alone was less embarrassing if he was actually alone while he was doing it, and made up his mind.

Arriving back at their room with a bottle of Jack he’d already cracked into, Dean crashed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing? Sitting in the dark, drinking himself to sleep because his baby brother went home with someone else. Pathetic. Pining over Sam had become Dean’s new favourite pastime without him even realising it, and most certainly without his permission.

Dropping his hand over the side of his bed and groping for his duffle, Dean managed to dig his hand into the side pocket hiding the bracelets that he’d pushed out of sight nearly two months ago. Curling his fingers around the smooth-worn wooden beads, he dragged them out, clutching them hard until he felt his nails cutting into his palm.

More Jack; these relics in his hand from a time when he used to be a good big brother, one Sam could actually admire and love, and Dean decided he was done. If he was gonna add this to the list of everything else that was fucked up in his life, then he was gonna goddamn lean into it. He knew Sam had noticed that he wasn’t wearing them anymore, and the thought that Sam might think Dean was mad at him, or didn’t love him with literally everything he had was unacceptable now.

He dropped the beads on the comforter and the bottle on the nightstand, and rose to pull off his jeans. If Sam was getting off tonight there was no reason he shouldn't. But at the thought of Sam, Dean couldn’t stop himself thinking about the guy he’d gone home with, who he’d had bent over the pool table in front of the whole damn bar. It was too easy to picture what Sam was doing to him now. Dean settled back against the lumpy pillows and squeezed himself over his boxers, letting himself sink into the images flashing through his mind.

Sam pressing that bastard up against the door. Sam threading his fingers through the short, dark blonde hair and pulling - the very thought draws a gasp from Dean, wishing it was him Sam was doing those things to, pressing those kisses to, scraping his teeth against and leaving marks on.

Inside Chase’s apartment, Sam didn’t waste any time. He had him pressed against the door with his wrists pinned over his head in a heartbeat. His kiss started teasing and light. He nipped at Chase’s lips, and the tip of his tongue that had tried in vain to connect to Sam’s. He dragged his teeth across the five o’clock shadow that dusted Chase’s jaw and down, locking on the hollow up his throat and pulling a heavy sign from his partner.

Sam kissed his way back to Chase’s lips and devoured him this time. Their tongues slid together but there was no fight for dominance, no illusion as to how this night was going. Sam was in charge, and that was just where they both wanted him.

Lurching backwards, Sam pulled Chase along with him, and they stumbled blindly around the entryway and managed to fall through the door to the bedroom - Chase’s doing. Sam’s jacket and shoes were discarded on the floor, Chase’s henley tossed onto the scattered laundry piled at the bottom of his bed. The sight made Sam smirk, one more confirmation that he went home with a guy tonight.

Sam sat on the bed and dragged Chase on top of him, grabbing his neck and forcing their mouths back together. At a loud groan from Chase, Sam opened his eyes and stared into the blue-grass eyes he remembered admiring in the bar, but in this dim light they looked darker, greener, and suddenly, Sam wasn’t looking at Chase anymore.

Dean tried to picture something, anything, other than Sam but he couldn’t. He saw Sam rolling himself on top of that guy and dragging himself down - would they be on the couch, or a bed? - down to the fly on his irritatingly well-fitted jeans and popping the button open with a grin. He saw him pulling the denim down and off, saw him mouthing hungrily over the cotton-covered bulge he found himself faced with, tonguing along the head and leaving a dark stain behind.

Dean groaned and pulled himself free from his boxers, needing it faster, tighter, meaner.

Sam swallowed Chase down eagerly. He didn’t even have the patience to pull his boxers all the way off, and he twisted the fabric in his hands, pulled it tight. It had been so long since he’d had a cock in his mouth he nearly gagged himself in his excitement to suck down every last inch. Chase whimpered above him, lost in the heat of Sam’s throat. Sam could tell he was trying so hard not to lose it already, so he eased up a little. He didn’t want to see Chase cum until he had his cock inside him.

Granting Chase a brief moment of reprieve, Sam slid further down until his tongue was thrusting in and out of his ass. Chase tried to squirm away but Sam held him down, bracing his arm across the slim hips to keep his prey in place. Chase managed to fish the lube and a condom out of his nightstand and throw them vaguely in Sam’s direction without Sam needing to stop his tongue’s assault. Sam knew he was rushing, but by the time he pushed inside of Chase’s not-prepped-enough hole neither of them cared.

Dean could feel it, hovering out of reach. He wanted it so badly but he couldn’t get there, and the frustration was starting to outweigh the desperation. The volume of alcohol couldn’t have been helping things either, but logic wasn’t what Dean was interested in right now. He needed something else, something more. Grasping in his mind for the images of Sam to come back, Dean’s fingers clawed against the bedspread, tugging on his cock relentlessly. Then his fingers nudged something - Sam’s bracelets.

Without thinking too hard, Dean clutched them in his fist, bringing both hands to wrap around himself and pressing the small, cool beads against his heated flesh. He still wanted more, needed something to cut through this haze of want and really make him feel. He wrapped the worn strings around the base of his dick, cinching tightly, and squeezing a whimper of pain through his lips. But that pain was just the spark he needed.

The urgency he’d been chasing before came rushing back, and visions of Sam above him, touching him, choking him, calling him a desperate, pathetic little cockslut, beat against the inside of his eyelids, and he was cumming harder than he could ever remember. He felt a white heat burning through every artery, vein, capillary in his goddamn body, and it brought him to an edge he never knew existed. It was agonising, and perfect.

Sam fucked his hips into Chase’s faster and faster. Their teeth met more often than their tongues as they kissed frantically, both reaching the ends of their tethers. Chase grabbed himself and pulled, beating himself faster and faster until he spilled into the sweat pooling between their bodies, groaning Sam’s name. Sam thrust harder and harder and froze, crammed so deep inside he barely fit, and then he was cumming; spilling his seed into Chase, and spilling Dean’s name from his lips.

Tags: Tag: @vulgar-library @jackandthesoulmates @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @hawkerz12 @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @natastic @Marvelfansworld @half-closeted-bi-girl @j-ai-adore-dean @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @alice101macwil @disneysloot @caitlinvd @crashlyrose @miufel @itsthedoctah10 @leftlokiofpuppy @devilsbbyy @akshi8278 @deandreamernp@lyarr24 @lovealways-j @kickingitwithkirk @delightfullykrispypeach

#dive bar #sam x omc #wincest #sam winchester smut #sam smut #dean smut #dean winchester smut #gay panic #dom!sam #top!sam #bottom!dean

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zeeroweenies · 3 years

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I’m sad af that my ask about ifhy got eaten. Again, fantastic writing.

I don't know why I keep doing this to myself but your latest work ifhy has me majorly fucked up. Like oh my god I don't know why I keep reading toxic!Eren fics when they make me so angry and sad. your writing *chefs kiss* you're an amazing writer. No words can ever fully express how talented you are.

I'm trying to find the perfect breakup playlist rn and my ass is single af. But oh my god when he said don't touch me and then he just do blatantly admitted that he fucked someone else and how it was the best pussy he's had. Oh I was ready to fucking kill him.

Imagine a world where we’re able to see he won’t ever change and we fucking leave his ass. Work on ourselves. Get some intensive therapy. I'm not suggesting that this would be the most appropriate way to go about it. But it would feel pretty good if we fucked his brother, his best friend, his sister, and his coach. And then WE LEAVE!

Are we ever going to leave toxic!Eren is the question? I have a personal philosophy that a person really has to hit rock bottom or something pretty world shaking has to happen for them to change. Girl, he fucking lost the chow chow dog and says it to your face that he's cheating on you. He put hands on you. Is he going to have to get another girl pregnant and then that girl tells you that she's keeping the baby and Eren wanted to be a part of that child's life? Especially when he was so insistent that you two couldn't have a child and forced you to get an abortion.

It sucks because there are a lot of relationships like this in real life. And I think that's what I really love about your writing besides capturing the love/hate relationship and the inner turmoil that the MC has. It's so sad but Eren is never not going to be toxic. He won't ever change. So imagine one day we’re able to.

If Eren throws it back in my face again that I fucked his best friend, let's say it straight to his face that his best friend isn't a dick and knows his to use his better than Eren's. And also it isn't our fault that he chooses shitty friends.

I think what is needed is just a clean break. Like imagine you start slowly packing up some things and shipping them to your parents’ house or a new apartment far far away from Eren. Start looking for a job in that new area you're moving to. If you're still in college, try to transfer to somewhere better or just a different college.

Have a go-bag prepared and some savings if worse comes to worse. But the main thing is just to leave. Leave without telling him or any of your friends. Maybe even say you're going to go no contact for awhile with them to make sure Eren doesn't flag you down. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy. Change your number. Change your environment. Block him on everything. Block his friends on everything. Maybe even delete all your socials. It's gonna hurt for a bit.

The pain doesn’t ever go away. You’ll feel his absence everywhere and the thoughts of what if’s, if only’s, or how’s, and why’s will steal away sleep and confidence and peace.

Every day you're gonna wake up and there's going to be this hole in your chest and everywhere you look, you'll find reminders of him or thoughts of Eren will pop into your mind. For awhile, when you wake up, it'll be the first thing you think about.

You'll feel his absence. But time passes. Even when it feels impossible. In strange lurches and blinks of an eye. In dragging lulls and then bursts of clamor. Time will pass. Then next thing you know, it's the second thought that comes to mind when you wake up.

And then we find a new man with a bigger dick and a bigger heart that will treat us so much better than Tweedle Jackass Jaeger.

Oof. Sorry I got a little bit too into the hypotheticals...

Love you Jess. Love your latest work. Hope you're staying hydrated and getting enough sleep and vitamin D. And hope you’re doing well Jess. It sucks that people can talk a lot of shit on anon or will block you before you can give your own two cents.

-🌊

AHHH BAE ILY FOR THIS💓😣💓!! wowie you really think it was that good? 🥺 I’m so happy you liked it I always love seeing you in my inbox🥺 (and the mention of the dog is taking me out!) sigh, er*n jaeger count your mf days bitch.

(and yeah it was probably some kid what was that about😟? but I don’t argue with children so😭)

#and you sent me an ask😭?#it must’ve gotten ate i never saw it😭#🌊 anon <3 #tw abortion #tw toxic relationship

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cottoncandyjester · 3 years

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Wait....Top Wholesome Y/N gets terrifying jealous. Can I request that!? Y/N wrap their arms around the yandere's waist (hugging them from behind) and lay their forehead on their shoulder. Y/N takes a deep sigh and looks at them with a glare full of anger (or horniness...but mostly Y/N being piss off.) Y/N whisper in their ear, "Let's go home...I need to release some steam." Yandere is unable to walk the next morning. (Can you write it about the yanderes who are just...bottoms? Or become a bottom when Y/N is a top? Thank you)

I just adore the thought of the yanderes being bottoms to a possessive y/n

Skipped hikaru cause he has a whole story bout him being a bottom

Didn't add scarlett cause there is no way she is a bottom, the only way she would ever bottom is if maybe she was with a feral reader

This story contains: smut, jealous reader, reader giving off soft yandere vibes

Theodore

Theo was incredibly handsome so it's only natural that someone would wish to flirt with him. He had took you to one of his favorite coffee shop for a relaxing date, all it took was you leaving to the bathroom only to return to have a flock of girls around him. "Oh, well thank you for such kind words but I'm on a date" it seems they weren't getting the hint so you walked over before simply plopping down in theo's lap a sharp glare on your face while the male pushed up his glasses his face red before he placed a hand on your thigh. "Theo, let's go home now."

Your hands gripped the male's hair as he felt like his hips were breaking from you slamming down on his cock over and over and over. "Y-y/n~ y-you're being too rough on me i-i cant-" his shaky words were met with a rough kiss before you pulled back watching his eyes get teary. "Who owns you and this cock?" Your voice was low and filled with a burning rage that you just had to release. With that you continued to ride him in such a way that drove him absolutely insane, you were definitely in control of this situation "y-you do! I-im all yours!"

Axis

"oh so you're blind? Poor baby. Must be hard on you."

Axis nervously stood waiting for you to show up to the movie theater for your date and while waiting some older women decided that he was just too adorable to pass up. The male tried to explain that he was on a date but it seems they weren't getting it "y-you all a-are really k-kind but I'm waiting for my-" his words were cut off when a scent hit his nose and like an excited dog he turned his head towards the smell before feeling a soft hand against his arm. It's you! He knew that smell anywhere! You wrapped your arms around his waist your breathing tickling his neck.

"hey babe, let's go home and watch movies instead okay?"

Axis drooled as he felt you grip his hair yanking his head close to your sex making him pleasure you while you pumped your fingers deeper into his hole. "You're such a sweetie, but you shouldn't be so kind to strangers ax it makes me sad" your pouting tone made the male whine and whimper as he trailed his tongue along your more sensitive of areas

"i-i never wanna make you sad..never! P-please forgive me y/n!"

Salem

Salem had his nature of docile and calm, moments where you two can go on a date on public without making a scene. Though feeling someone rub against him always riled him up so when you excused yourself to the bathroom while you do were eating breakfast at a diner it wasn't long until he had some flirty strangers sit beside him and rub along his thigh trying to take him home.

"you're hair is so pretty, I've never seen a boy with such pretty long hair" their voice was making salem's head spin though he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. His instant thought was downright gruesome they weren't you, so it was okay to eat them..right?

Salem started to drool which they must've taken as intense pleasure cause it wasn't long until he was backed into the corner of the booth trying to hold in his cannibalistic urges while he felt hands trail up his thighs. And soon the feeling was whipped away as you pulled the stranger away before grabbing salem's hand your eyes cold and filled with rage. It was time to go home

"who owns you?! Who owns everything about you?!"

Your voice was drowned out by salem's loud squeals and moans as you thrusted deep into his hole your hands gripping the leash connected to the collar around his neck that choked him. "Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" His chanted got more and more whinier as you fucked him harder until he was sobbing and shaking under you. Salem was such a good boy

Prince

Prince was a total ladies man or at least he was until he met you, he had to let all his many one night stands know that he was off the market though some just didn't get the memo. "Come now princey, you really gonna say no to me? Don't you remember what we did right here after hours...we were so loud I'm sure the whole area heard it" prince nervously gazed at the female who sat at his bar clearly wanting another ride. His main worry was you coming back thinking he was unfaithful.

"Sorry but I don't put my dick just anywhere anymore"

"but you could, you always hated commitment so why bother now?"

Before prince can utter a word you were hopping over the bar without a single care in the world. "Hey babe, you done working?"

Prince admired your badass nature and simply nodded ready to go, though he missed that deadly glare you shot towards the slut.

"if your groupies can only see you now, whining and whimpering to feel an ounce of pleasure" you spoke lowly as prince bucked his hips up as you stroked his cock and fingered his hole but gave a frustrated huff when you stopped for the third time that moment, just as he was close you would stop and he was going crazy.

"p-please, have mercy"

"I'll think about it."

Yuki

Yuki gave off huge 'dont bother me' vibes but even still with that people would come up to him thinking they have a chance. You two were at the arcade and had split up since he had to use the bathroom, as he started to walk back to where you were he bumped into someone causing him to stumble back lightly. He looked and saw that it wasn't you so he proceeded to keep walking without speaking a word.

"don't leave a guy hanging now hot stuff!" The male stranger followed yuki who now scrolled through his phone ignoring the stranger but soon noticed they blocked his path. With a frustrated sigh he looked up his green eyes clearly bored and uninterested

"you're quite the looker..how about we go out together?"

"no."

They definitely wasn't expecting his dry and short response but when yuki suddenly felt himself being touched he cringed lightly making an expression one can see as cute. Having someone touch his chest that wasn't you gave him bad vibes, he didn't like that. Before he could take action you were at his side hugging against him calming his nerves down

"please don't touch him okay? He has anxiety" your sweet tone did not match your sharp glare or light scowl. With that you dragged yuki along who was more than eager to cling to you.

Yuki panted softly his back arching as you thrusted slowly inside of him making it unbearably slow, he needed more so much more and your teasing was making him crazy. "Come now, you can be louder than that can't you? Tell me what you want yuki"

"y-you, I want you..please y/n"

Rocket

Your beefed up boyfriend always got attention wherever he went, so going to the beach was probably a terrible idea honestly. You two found a perfect spot and once all set up rocket excitedly stripped out of his shirt, you definitely noticed all the stares from both male and females. Of course it wasn't long until a group of girls came up to him blushing and giggling, clearly wanting to ask him out

You sat next to him on the towel while he started to put sunscreen on, your glare was sharp as the girls started to flirt and gawk. "You're really ripped, do you work out or something?" Rocket who was oblivious as always proceeded to entertain them with his innocent answer. "Well we're going to play volleyball, of your sibling doesn't mind you leaving then maybe you can join us?"

SIBLING?! utter rage filled you but you forced a smile now standing up, rocket glanced your way and was about to correct the girls but you simply interrupted him. "Hey babe I think it's gonna start raining soon we should go" you were met by a pouty rocket who really wanted to go swimming but the two of you packed it up and went home.

The water grew cold as you stroked rocket's thick cock while standing behind him trailing kisses along his back feeling him shudder and squirm against your touch. "B-babe, I'm gonna- ngh! So good" his small moans always made you even hornier and it wasn't long until you had him pressed against the shower wall sliding inside of him and feeling his large body shiver at the feeling. Your hands going straight to his chest now groping it and squeezing his nipples

"I'll show you who you belong to"

Yuuta& yuuji

Having two boys meant twice the flirting and twice the annoying sluts bothering them. You three had taken a vacation to disneyworld and when your three weren't in the hotel fucking each other's brains out you were at the amusment park walking around and doing things.

"hey how about we ride that?" Yuuji pointed at a big roller coaster that made both you and yuuta worry about your life. As you three waited in line yuuta felt someone brush their hand against his waist, thinking that it was you he settled down not minding it until he nothing both your hands gripped yuuji's arm.

with wide eyes he turned only to see a random girl touching him but to make matters worse it seems yuuji got targeted as well by a boy, the twins had a look of discomfort. "Sorry me and my brother were wondering if you two would be open to a double date, you two are very cute and-" you cut them off with a loud fake yawn causing both boys to look towards you in worry their attention on you now.

"oh sweetie! Are you tired? We can go back to the hotel if you want?"

"damn y/n if you're sleepy you should have let us know!"

Wasn't long until you held both boys hands the three of you walking back to the hotel while you shot the strangers a hard glare.

"you two really are so cute, no wonder people fall for you." You eyed the two boys who both had their hands tied above their heads, blindfolds on while a line of sex toys sat at the end of the bed. You've been teasing their holes for the last hour and they couldn't take it much longer.

You pumped the toys into each of their holes watching their reactions, yuuji always gave the cutest moans while yuuta whined and let out small cries of bliss.

#yandere imagines #yandere ocs #yandere

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cruecifymesixx · 3 years

Text

Love and Leather /part eighty seven/

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: enjoy!

Warnings: light smut, death?, language

Taglist: @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @a-simple-salmon , @hi-my-name-is-riley , @extremesadnerding , @thatbandchick39 , @awkwrdcait , @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @vintagebox @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint@criminalyetminimal, @trapt-in-a-dream, @broke-n-bitchy, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @herbertweeest, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @sleepyjunhong @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @youretheonlyonewhomakesme, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 @rocknroll--baby @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

"Maybe...maybe I can send them flowers? Everyone likes flowers right? Or send a muffin basket. People like to eat when someone dies." I rambled on and on as Nikki followed me through the house.

"I should just call right? It shows I care more than sending flowers or sweet treats. That's what I would like. Should I do that? What do you think I should do?" I took a deep breath in, trying to keep the tears from coming as I picked up scattered toys from both Arianna and Anarchy.

"Vanity.." Nikki spoke softly as he put his hand on my shoulder. I exhaled deeply before covering my face.

"How do I say I'm sorry for the lost of your child?" I croak, sobbing into my hands as he pulled me flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his chin on my shoulder

Mick had called just a little while ago explaining to us that Sharise called to let him know Skylar had passed away due to complications from her cancer diagnosis. Mick mentioned Vince was a mess and couldn't pick up the phone.

Nikki kisses the back of my head. I hear him sniffling too, "Y-you should call him.." I turn in his embrace to face him, "He's your brother. You should reach out, he's probably in so much pain right now."

Nikki disagreed as he shook his head which caused me to cry harder, "I-I can't do that. He barely answered my calls months ago. He wouldn't answer them now. Especially not right now. He has his friends and family, Vanity."

I take a few deep breaths in through my nose as I try to relax, "Do you still have his number? I'll call him. It's-it's out of respect Nikki. Imagine if it was-if it was Ari.." I get worked up again, tears pouring out as I wipe at them to the point that it hurt.

"I don't want to think of that." He looks at me, rubbing his hand over his face before it rests over his mouth as he's thinking, "Just say whatever you need to say to feel better." He tells me as he reaches for the phone, punching in numbers before he's holding it out for me.

I take the phone stepping over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he breathes in deeply before giving my hip a squeeze and goes out to the backyard with the dog.

I sit down on the couch, hearing the phone ring before a grumbled voice answers, "H-hey Vinny...it's Vanity. Vanity Blackwood.." I hear Vince's sigh of annoyance, "Mick just called...I am so sorry for your loss. I couldn't even begin to imagine what you're going through.."

Vince laughs a bit, "Yeah. Right. Look, I don't need to hear a pity party especially from you."

I frown a bit at his harsh tone seeping through the phone, "It's not like that at all Vince. We're still friends even if you and Nikki aren't...at least I think we are?"

"You and Nikki and your happy little family can just fuck the hell off! Don't call me again, Vanity."

My eyes water as I try to blink back tears, seeing Nikki standing at the glass door smoking a cigarette and looking at me, "Vince, it's not like that at all, I swear to you. I am sorry for your guys's fallout but I am just coming to you as a parent, that's all. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am and if you or Sharise need anything at all just let me know."

"I don't need shit from you."

"Vince-" I put the phone down when I hear the dial tone on the other line. I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I sink into the couch. I should have just chose the nice flower bouquet and an apology note.

I close my eyes, hearing the sliding door open and shut before Nikki sits on the couch next to me. I raise his arm and curl up into his side, "He just said for me and my happy family to fuck off."

"He's upset and mourning doll...he doesn't mean it." I nod as I breathe in the scent of cigarette smoke and old spice deodorant.

"I know. Maybe I'll try Sharise."

Nikki sighed before reaching with his other hand to grasp my chin, pointing my head upwards to look at him, "Not right now Van, let her be with her parents. I'm sure she'll be with Vince too and they have each other. I know you have nothing but good intentions but just let it be for now, okay?"

I look at Nikki, nodding slowly as my eyes burn and sting with tears, "Okay..."

*Tommy's POV*

I yawned following Nikki around the antique store as he checked out some tables and lamps. I fumbled with some clock before Nikki scolded me like a child to put it down before I broke it, "Dude this store is boring.." I groan as we go further into the shop.

"God, you're worse than Arianna. I can't find anything anyways. I probably have to go to the shop out in Santa Barbra." Nikki tells me as we start heading back to front of the store, we wave bye to the shop clerk before walking through the mall.

I tune Nikki out as he starts going on about how he wants to redo the decor for his office. My eyes wander to the bright fluorescent lights of the jewelry store as my feet take me into its direction, "Hold on man, I want to look at something real quick."

I've been thinking about proposing to Clementine as we've been together for a little over a year now. Clem and I have never really talked about marriage other than my last two failed ones, "How'd you know you wanted to propose to Van? And how did you know it was the right time?" I turn to Nikki as I open up the door and walk in.

He chuckles a bit, "Uh...I don't know man? I just knew. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I know some people think we rushed into getting engaged and despite how everything is at the moment, I love her and I don't think I could ever imagine her being away from me. Why?"

"I don't know...with Clem being pregnant and everything I've just been thinking about asking her to marry me. I rushed with the other two and I just don't want to make the same mistake."

"Tommy, if you think you have to be married just because she's pregnant and society tells you it's the right thing to do then you're dumb. It's okay to not be tied up just in case it doesn't work out."

I shook my head looking at some rings in the glass case, "No, I don't want to marry her just because she's pregnant. I want to marry her because I love her. I just don't want her to feel pressured, I know you don't like her that much but I don't want her to freak out on me."

"Are you to gentleman looking for something in particular? I'd be happy to help." A busty redhead comes up to me and Nikki "Were having a sale today, our rings start at five thousand and it's 15% off for customizing."

I shake my head, "No thank you, I'm just looking for now.."

"Well, do you have anything that screams I'm sorry for being an asshole and I love you?" Nikki questioned as the woman laughed.

"Our diamond tennis bracelets are right over here. They're always a winner and they start at twenty five hundred."

"Thanks, I'll take a look around." Nikki tells her as I laugh a bit.

"In the dog house again?" I question as I bend down, finding a diamond on a simple gold band.

"When am I not in the fucking dog house?" I hear the eye roll in his voice, "I-I went on another date with Donna, but I didn't come home until the morning so Van thinks I'm sleeping with her now but I'm not. She'll barely say anything to me, but I'm not allowed to get mad when she's up late at night talking to whoever that guy is she's been seeing. All laughing and giggling and talking sweet. It makes me want to vomit."

"Well maybe you two shouldn't be seeing other people. That just sounds bad already, but sounds explosive for you two in particular. You really haven't slept with Donna? She's super hot."

We both smirks at each other like naughty school boys, "Yeah, she is isn't she? But no, I swear on Nonas grave I haven't slept with her. Just heavy make out sessions but nope, I've kept my dick in my pants. Would like it to go inside Van but she's being, well, she's being Van."

I laughed a bit as I glanced at some other rings, "Hate to break it to you man, but that's never gonna change. You think Clem would like that one?" I point to a silver band with an oval shaped diamond and a few smaller diamond wrapping around it.

I watched as Nikki shrugged, "I don't know man. It's simple but gets the point across. Clementine doesn't strike me as someone who would want a big fancy diamond that could be used as a paper weight."

I waved over that same redhead from earlier, "Uh...Maxine? Can I see that ring right there please?"

I wait and watch as Maxine unlocks the glass case, seeing Nikki wander off to go look at earrings. I smile when the ring is laid on a black velvet platform for me. I gently pick it up, seeing the jewels sparkle under the light. The inclusions of the diamonds created a rainbow affect as I tilted it back and forth between my finger tips.

"I think I'll take it. She needs a size 7."

"Oh that's wonderful! This is a very beautiful ring and any woman would be lucky to have it. Let me get it sized and wrapped up for you and I'll meet you at the cash register." Maxine tells me as she takes the ring and heads to the back.

I go over to Nikki seeing him holding up a gold tennis bracelet but every other stone was a ruby, or a garnet. I could never tell the difference.

"These dangler earrings would go absolutely perfect with the bracelet." The other woman tried selling it as Nikki shook his head.

"No, she doesn't like the dangler earrings. They get caught in her hair. But she has a pair of ruby studs that would go with them. It's her birthstone. But I for sure want the bracelet. Can you wrap it up nice for me? With the gold paper."

"Yes sir, of course."

We go up to the cash register as Maxine helps me first, she opens the box and shows me the ring before putting it in a red bag, "You made a very good selection. Are we going to be doing payments on the ring?"

I clear my throat hearing Nikki chuckle behind me, "No ma'am, I want to pay it in full." I grab my wallet from my back pocket and pull out my gold American Express credit card.

"Very well then, it will be a total of 23,700$." God, Clem's gonna kill me. I pay for the ring and thank her for helping. I step to the side for Nikki to come up.

"It's okay buddy, Vans ring was 85,000$ and we didn't even get married." He tells me as I rolled my eyes, "It's just collecting dust in my underwear drawer now."

"That will be 2,800$" I hear Nikki mumble something about a princess before he digs his wallet out and groans.

"She took my card the other day and didn't put it back." I watch as he then starts pulling out hundreds and fifties.

"Jesus Christ Nikki.." I shake my head "You really keep that much money in your wallet?"

"Sometimes..."

We both walk out of the store after, "I really hope Clemmy likes it...you think she will?"

Nikki glances at me, "Yeah man. She should at least. It's a nice ring and if she doesn't then it's not the end of the world you can always take it back for it to be customized or she can pick out her own ring. It will be fine T."

"I'm sure it will be too, but you know I get nervous sometimes." I confide in him as he nods, "Have you heard from Vince?"

Nikki takes a deep breath before exhaling, "No, Vanity tried calling him but he was not very welcoming about it. But we sent Sharise flowers the other day. Have you?"

I shook my head, "I sent him an email and expressed my condolences. I did get ahold of Sharise though...she was nice. Even said we can go to Skylar's service if we wanted too, but I don't know...I feel like Vince wouldn't be too happy about that. It fucking sucks man. I couldn't ever imagine what it's like to lose a kid."

"Yeah man, I know-" I wait until Nikki unlocks his car and we both get in, "Vanity cried for hours over it then we had to explain to Arianna why she was crying. That was hard to do, but I think she sorta grasped the concept of death. I just hope we don't have to tell her again for a long time. I can't stand seeing her little bottom lip quiver or her eyebrows pulling together in confusion like that."

"Do you think I'll be a good dad? I had a good dad and I turned out fine, no offense to you. But what if I'm not good enough or there for them enough?" I slump back into the seat as I roll down the window.

"Yeah thanks for that." He laughs a bit, "I think being a dad is easier than being a rockstar. Some days are harder than others. But you have a good head on your shoulders, plus you have Clementine and wasn't she a big help in New York?"

"I mean yeah she was, but it's different when it's your own kid I think. I should read some of those parenting books. You think that would help?"

"I don't know, Tommy? I've never read them, plus kinda missed out on the whole newborn baby thing, remember?"

"Well yeah, but aren't you two gonna have more? You'd read them then right?" I ask him as he just stays quiet and focused on the road, "You two have to have more kids. Arianna needs siblings."

"Tommy, you're asking a lot of hard questions. Van and I can barely get along at the moment. We haven't had sex since Valentine's Day, and when we did she made me wear a condom. I would like to have more kids with her, but right now is just not a good time for me and her." Nikki explains to me, but I can hear the pain in his voice. I always knew how much he loved her, how he would give his last dying breath to have her.

"I don't know why you two put yourselves through this. You two aren't in your twenties anymore, I mean shit Nikki, you're almost forty."

"Shut the fuck up." Nikki reaches over and punches my arm, "I know how old I am and I'm reminded every time Vanity points out a grey hair."

"Do you tell her she's the reason why you have grey hair? Because it's probably true."

*Nikki's POV*

I stand in front of Vanity, blocking the tv with the gift bag behind my back. Her eyes dart up to mine and she gives out a sigh of annoyance, "What Nikki?"

"What Nikki?" I mock her tone, laughing as she glares at me. I sit down on the chaise part of the sectional and hold out the gold bag by my index finger, "I got something, you want it?" I raise my eyebrows and a smirk plastered on my lips as she rolls her eyes and sits forward and reaches for it, "Ah, Ah, Ah...say please."

"You're annoying." Van says as she leans her head back against the couch, "May I please have it?"

"Why of course princess." I place the bag on her lap, chuckling a bit when she throws the tissue paper at me before pulling out a long velvet box. I see her look at me a moment before she opens it. She tries to downplay her smile as she clips the gold and ruby bracelet around her wrist, "Do you like it?"

Van nods as she looks at me, her cheeks warm and pink "Thank you, Nikki. It's really pretty."

"You're welcome doll. I figured it would help with an apology...I'm sorry I didn't tell you I would be staying the night with her. I'm sure I worried you when I didn't call. And I know Arianna was upset, believe me, she let me know. But I am sorry Van." I express softly as I move closer to her on the couch, taking her wrist in my hand as I look at the bracelet.

"I'm just mad that you spent the night with her and I'm stuck here overthinking about what you may or may not be doing. I don't like thinking of that stuff but I can't help it." She explains as I take her hand and press my lips to the top of her knuckles.

"I know princess. And I'm sorry for that. I know you overthink and get anxious sometimes, I shouldn't feed into it. But I promise you Van, I didn't do anything with her and I haven't done anything and I'm not gonna do anything. Okay?" I feel her intertwine our hands together as I look at her and repeat myself, "Okay?"

She stares at me a moment "Okay...but you better mean that Nikki or I swear to god, I'll move out if you even put the fucking tip in."

I grin as I lean over and kiss her cheek "What about a hand job? Will you still move out?" I laugh when she smacks my chest, "Have you slept with that guy you're seeing? What's his name?"

Van laughs turning her head to the side before looking at me, "His name is Jon, and no I haven't slept with him. I haven't even kissed him unlike you that comes home with a hickey." She points out before poking the fading bruise on the side of my neck.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What does he look like?"

"Um...well, he's taller than me. Has short, shaggy brown hair with some highlights. His ears are pierced and he has a few tattoos." She shrugs, "He travels back and forth between Jersey and here.." I see her glance at me as I nod.

"Oh cool. Some business dude? And you aren't bored of him? I'm surprised."

"Well...not really business like you're thinking..."

"Are you gonna see him again?" I question, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before her neck, smirking against her skin when she tilts her head.

"Yeah..next weekend. He has something planned for us.." I hear the shaky breath as my teeth gently nip her.

"He calls a lot doesn't he? That's nice of him, to check up on you...does he know about me? About us?" I question, letting my hand slide up and down her bare thigh under the blanket she's wrapped up in, finger tips dipping under the bottom hem of her pajama shorts.

Van nodded, relaxing against the couch, "He was very surprised to know that I knew you and that we have a relationship."

A deep chuckle escapes my lips as I grip her jaw in my palm and turn her head to look at me, "I'm surprised that didn't scare him off. How could an average joe live up to a rockstar?" I question, seeing her glance at my lips before looking back at me, "He couldn't please you like I could. Someone that already knows all your wants and needs...someone that knows how to get you going so easily." My hand falls from her jaw to wrap around her throat, squeezing just slightly as a I hear her quiet whimper. My eyes close when Van presses her lips against mine, her hands entangling themselves in my hair.

I reach for her arms and pull her onto my lap, her thighs straddling mine as I deepen the kiss. I grab a hold of hair in my fist, tilting her head back as I lick a stripe from the bottom of her throat to the top. I feel her nails digging into my chest before her fingers grip my shirt. Van presses her body against mine as she wraps her arms around me, she breaks the kiss her eyes staying closed as she rests her forehead against mine.

We stay like that for a moment before she tells me she loves me. I smile and peck her lips softly, "I love you too." My hands slide down her shoulders, taking the flimsy strap of the tank top with me as she does the rest of the work and pulls her arms out. I kiss across her chest as she holds my head in place. My tongue swirls around her nipples before I tug on them. My eyes glancing up at her as she moans and her head tilts back.

Her ass grinds against the tent in my sweatpants as I bite back my own moans and grunts. I feel her hand go between us as she dips inside my pants and boxers and starts jerking me off.

"Fuck me.." I groan, closing my eyes as my head rolls from side to side. She leans closer, her tongue darting out against my neck as she kisses and sucks a bruise onto me. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I feel my cock leaking pre cum only for Vanity to gather it and use it while she strokes me. I start breathing heavier, feeling her speed up her ministrations as her thumb swipes over the tip repeatedly, "Fuck, Van...you're doing so good baby." I run my thumb over her bottom lip as she smiles, playfully biting it before taking it between her lips.

We both jump and she gives me a particularly hard squeeze when the house phone starts ringing. Annoyed, I reach for it on the the couch and say hello, tilting my head when Van kisses my neck.

"Is Vanity available?" I hear another mans voice as I roll my eyes.

"Yeah. Hold on." I take the phone away and hand it to her, "It's for you. I think it's your boyfriend." I smirk at her as she takes the phone from me.

I lean forward pressing my lips to her her neck and collar bone as she grips my hair and tries to pull me away, "No, no Jon I'm not busy. No, it's okay. I'm just watching TV." I look up at her as i move my head down, letting my tongue swirl around her nipple again before pinching the other one.

"Ye-yeah I'm okay!-" she gasps rather loudly when I bite down, "No, it's just the show I'm watching, um..just a soap opera. I'm a sucker for drama." She mouths 'stop' to me but I just shake my head.

"I'm doing okay, just been working and being a mom. Nothing to interesting going on over here. How about you? I miss you too Jon." I quirk an eyebrow towards her before shoving my hand into her shorts, feeling her panties and herself absolutely soaked. I slot a finger through her folds before rubbing soft circles against her clit. I laugh when she reaches for my hand to stop me.

"Is that Nikki? Um....yeah that's Nikki...soap operas are his guilty pleasure." Van grabs my shoulder when I slide two fingers in her, curling up against her immediately.

"Fuck...Jon I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon?" I look up at Van with adoring eyes as I reach to press a kiss to her chin, twisting and pumping my fingers inside her faster as a small cry leaves her pretty lips.

I place soft and delicate kisses on her neck as I hear his muffled voice on the other line. Van stares at me with bright eyes, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth as I push another finger inside of her.

"Mhmm...yes that's-that's fine Jon! Just-I gotta go....oh fuck.." I watch as her body tenses, her eyes closing shut but her lips parting as I feel her nails claw at the back of my neck when she rides out her high.

I smirk at her when I take my hand out of her pants and bring my fingers to my lips, "N-no...I'm good..I just stubbed my toe really hard. I'll talk to you tomorrow Jon, okay? Goodnight." Vanity hangs up and throws the phone down, shoving on my chest as I laugh "It's not funny, Nikki! That's embarrassing!"

"Oh come on-" I roll my eyes, "You seemed to like it very much, maybe a little too much." I grin as she shoves me again.

"I can't fucking stand you." Vanity tells me as she pretends to put up a fight, but I see the playful smirk on her face before she's pressing her chest to mine and kissing me again.

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Jessica!

Title: Twinsane

A/N: Jessie, You already know Burns and I are big fans of your characters and stories, in particular your Leo and Drake. The three of us made our big writing debuts at the same time in the Summer of 2019 and became fast friends that have continued through every high and low we’ve each experienced in our lives. You’ve always been a great and supportive friend with a big heart and a bit of a funny bone. We both hope you have an amazing birthday and we wish you all the best in the coming year.

This story takes place in a universe created by @jessiembruno.

Palace -- Throne Room

Liam paced the ancient throne room, site of their infant daughter’s upcoming anointing and baptism. Everything seemed to be in place; Regina had made sure of it despite the cast on her arm from her latest sex injury.

Still, he worried.

Not because of terrorist threats, not because of Lilyana possibly blowing out her diaper and ruining a $2,000 christening gown. No, he had two concerns:

His brother and his brother-in-law.

His wife tried to console him about it, but every time she did, the new father threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t want to talk about that stupid pendejo. I just can’t with him --” and the fights they had afterward weren’t worth it.

Leo had passed two kidney stones on the day Lilyana was born. Liam felt bad for him; he really did. Everything he’d heard about passing kidney stones was that it was a truly painful ordeal.

But Leo, as always, had taken things too far.

First of all, he’d named them: Rocky and Peter. He referred to them as “the twins,” and everywhere he went, that goddamn jar went with him. It was embarrassing to be somewhere with him in public and then to hear the telltale rattling as he adjusted change in his pocket.

That was nothing, though, compared to when he’d bought “the twins” a Silver Cross Balmoral pram at the eye-popping price tag of seven grand. It was both nicer and more expensive than Jessica and Liam’s $2,700 Bugaboo by Diesel stroller; Liam had thrown a fit. And not just because Leo had charged them both to Liam’s credit card.

“We are carting around a royal baby! You spent seven thousand dollars on a grocery cart for your goddamn kidney stones?”

Leo, puffing out his chest, had merely clutched the jar of medical waste to his heart. “My children are royal adjacent, thank you very much.”

At least Drake understood that the elder Rys brother was off his rocker, but since Drake flew all the way off the handle every time the subject was mentioned, Liam tried to avoid the inevitable blowups. Just last week, there had been an … incident at a formal dinner.

“Drake, will you watch the boys while I take a piss?” Leo had extended the jar toward the surly dark-haired man.

“Get those fucken things away from me, Leo! Those were in your fucken dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Liam had tried to calm Drake down -- Princess Lesedi looked absolutely horrified at the outburst -- but as usual, Leo just made things worse.

Huffing loudly, he proclaimed, “Lilyana was in Jessica’s bacon hole, and I don’t hear you complaining about that, Drake. You hold her all the time, but you never take the twins when I ask! I am through with this open favoritism!”

Only Alyssa, quietly intervening and taking the jar, had prevented a full-on brawl from breaking out. But since she started to cry when Drake refused to hold her hand afterward even following a thorough handwashing, the crisis hadn’t really been averted in the end.

Thinking of Drake only led Liam to ruminate on Mateo, his brother-in-law. Nearly a year before, when the four friends had attended a Yankees game with Jessica’s brothers, Mateo had made a sloppy pass at Alyssa without knowing she was in a relationship.

Well, to be more precise, he’d actually talked about Alyssa in front of her face, not realizing she spoke Spanish, and told his brother “Alyssa can sit on my face.”

The only thing that had saved the weekend from devolving into complete anarchy was that Drake didn’t know enough Spanish to translate. But someone -- probably shit-starting Leo -- had explained Mateo’s words to Drake, and now Alyssa’s new husband was out for blood.

If any of them ruin my little princess’ day, Liam swore to himself, I will murder them. I’m king. I can pardon myself.

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

Palace -- Ballroom

Lilyana was properly anointed and baptized. At the head table, overlooking the large gathering as he cradled his daughter in his arms, Liam looked over the party with a sigh of relief and scooped up another forkful of chicken tagine. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and now they just needed to feed all these people, hand the princess off to Regina or one of her doting aunts or uncles, and he could spirit his wife away to take his “royal scepter” anywhere she wanted it.

His eyes tracked to Leo, who was in rapt conversation with Penelope across the room. When Leo pulled the jar out of his pocket, Liam threw back his entire scotch in disgust.

Jessica, resplendent in a new Ana de Luca original, came back to the table. “God, these fucken people are intolerable, Liam. How much longer --” Her words were cut off when Liam wrapped his hand around her wrist.

“My love, give our daughter to her grandmother. Te necesito. Ahora,” he added, eyes locked on hers. (I need you. Now.)

She took the baby from his arms and brought Lilyana to Alyssa. “The princess needs some time with her Auntie Lyss.”

Alyssa smirked as she kissed the infant’s sweet-smelling head. “And the queen needs to get her back blown out?”

Jessica tossed her hair. “Fuck yeah.”

Alyssa high-fived her before she walked away.

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

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Liam grunted, gripping a fistful of Jessica’s hair and tugging her head back, exposing her throat to his lips and teeth.

She shuddered at the feeling, reaching for his thick length. “We don’t have a lot of time …”

“We have as much time as it takes.” He unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, admiring the curves that had only become lusher with motherhood. Lowering her to the bed, Liam’s lips moved over Jessica’s breasts and stomach. He toyed with the waistband of her underwear.

“Liam, please --”

The panties dropped to the ground, and her plea melted into a throaty groan at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

“Yes, love,” he said against her, working her with his hands and mouth. “Dámelo.” (Give it to me.)

She was still shaking with her release when Liam crawled over her, his rigid cock probing between her thighs. “Now, muñeca.”

Something crashed against the door.

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

Palace -- Ballroom

To his delight, Leo had reunited with Miss Willoughby, his fourth-grade teacher. Though she was no longer as perky as he remembered and had grown an unfortunate goiter, she listened attentively to Leo’s stories about his children.

She had had a lot of champagne.

“Do you have a picture?” she asked at last, after Leo had regaled her with the tale of taking Peter and Rocky grocery shopping for the first time.

“Even better than that.” Leo proudly reached into his jacket pocket. “Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby.”

The teacher shrank back with concern. “Leo … what -- what is that?”

“They are Rocky and Peter.” He pointed to each stone as he introduced them. “Their birth was excruciating, but it was worth every moment of pain.”

Miss Willoughby rubbed her misshapen throat lump. “Are those --”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Technically they are kidney stones. But the word ‘kid’ is right in there! Love makes a family, Miss Willoughby. Not your status as ‘human.’” He punctuated the last word with finger quotes of disgust.

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

On the other side of the room, Drake’s gaze narrowed on a familiar face. “Devereaux!” he hissed.

Alyssa looked up from where she had been singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Lilyana. “What?”

“Is that Jess’ fucken brother?”

She bit her lip. It was Mateo, but no way was she letting Drake get involved in a brawl at the princess’ anointing, for Christ’s sake. “I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t remember’?”

Waving a breezy hand, Alyssa hastily tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, I was drinking a lot that day.”

“A lot for you. Not for your average 15-year-old,” he snickered, agreeing.

To Alyssa’s relief, the man had slipped out of sight. “Well, be that as it may, you should let that Mateo thing go. Everything’s cool.”

He scowled. “It is not. I know he’s here today! I’m going to find him and kick the shit out of him.”

-----------

“You should call me Roberta.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Miss Willoughby -- Roberta. I would be delighted to.”

She set down her flute. “You certainly grew up handsome …”

Smoothing his blond locks back into place, Leo gave her a rakish grin. “Why, Roberta. How forward of you.”

“Is there somewhere we can get away?” She reached out and gripped his ass with surprising strength.

“I guess that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.”

“The perfect amount.” Her hand slid around to the front, grappling with the front of his pants.

“Whoooooooa. Well, in that case, yes. We can get away.”

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

Alyssa handed Lilyana to Drake in another attempt at distraction, nervous about the way he was pacing the room. “Uh, I have to use the bathroom. Can you take the baby?”

He was already cooing at Lilyana, assuaging Alyssa’s nerves until she made out the words. “And Uncle Drake’s gonna beat the fuck out of your Uncle Mateo ... yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Drake!” she gritted.

“Because nofuckingone talks about your Auntie Lyssa like that; no, they do not!” he continued in a singsong voice, ignoring Alyssa completely.

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the ballroom, content that he at least wouldn’t start any physical fights with a baby in his arms.

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

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Jessica sat up with a start, unfortunately bending Liam’s manhood at an awkward angle. He screamed.

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Her shrewd eyes, trained to find danger, scanned the room. She threw Liam’s jacket on -- their size difference meant it fit her like a gigantic robe -- and grabbed her taser.

“Love, wait!” Liam struggled up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his dick.

“Goddammit, Leo!” Jessica screeched upon throwing the door open.

Her brother-in-law’s bare ass, driving rhythmically toward a faceless someone who was pressed against the opposite wall, greeted her.

“Jess! Fuck!” Leo slowed. “Sorry, Roberta, hang on.” Continuing to hold her against him as a shield, he craned his head around to look at her. “I’m a little busy right now. What?”

She slammed the door closed. “Liam, get dressed.”

“What the fuck is going on?” The king complied, his good mood completely dissipated.

“Your fucken brother is banging someone outside our door. I’m pretty sure his ass is the crashing sound we heard. His naked ass touched the door. I’m having maintenance replace it tomorrow!”

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

Palace -- Hallway Outside Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Leo struggled back into his pants, grateful that his partner had kept her dress on. “Miss W -- Roberta, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Er, not that anything about me is short, obviously. But I’m pretty sure my brother’s about to come out here --”

The door flew open. “LEO, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Liam raged.

“Run!” Leo grabbed Roberta’s hand and took off running down the corridor, jacket in his other hand.

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

Palace -- Ballroom

Alyssa hadn’t come back, but the more Drake stared at the man he had noticed earlier, the more he was convinced it was Mateo Garcia.

That fucker.

Lilyana had fallen asleep against his chest. He wasn’t going to disturb her or put her in danger, but …

Drake looked at the abandoned plates of cake on their table. Steadying the baby with his left arm, he picked up a handful of cake and squeezed it experimentally in his fist. Maybe he hadn’t played ball with Liam and Maxwell in a few years, but he still had a decent arm.

He rose, stalking closer to his target but staying close to the exit for a quick getaway.

Drake raised his arm and fired.

The handful of cake exploded against the man’s face. Spluttering, Mateo whipped his head around and roared, “What the fuck was that?”

Drake and Lilyana slipped out the nearest door, almost colliding with a sweaty Leo, panic in his eyes.

Leo grabbed Drake’s shoulders, careful to avoid Lilyana’s head. “Drake! We have a crisis on our hands!”

He listened to Leo with only half his attention; his other ear focused uneasily on the new commotion of screaming and -- was that breaking glass? -- inside the ballroom.

“So I need you to come on the search mission with me,” Leo finished.

Drake shook his head to clear it, registering an older woman with a prominent goiter slinking back into the ballroom. “The fuck are you talking about? Did you just finish having sex with that woman?” He jerked a thumb toward Roberta.

The blond man scowled. “I didn’t get to finish, and neither did she, thanks to Jess and Liam’s drama.”

“But the --” Drake gestured to his neck.

Leo waved it off. “I hit it from behind. No distracting visuals that way.”

“You, dickhead!” Drake grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image.”

“My pleasure. Now, we need to go. Find someone to take the baby. I need you completely focused.”

“On what? Where the fuck are we going?”

“Have you not been listening to me? Jesus, Drake! I need you to help me find the twins!” Leo raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end as his blue eyes burned with obsessive fire. “I took my jacket off when I was nailing Miss Willoughby -- er, Roberta -- and the jar must have fallen out. My children are missing, Drake!”

Drake nestled Lilyana against his chest and covered one of her ears. “You -- you have lost the fucken plot, Leo. I am not searching for your -- your -- dick rocks!”

“You were there at their birth, Drake. It hurts me that you take no interest in your godstones.”

“Stop calling them my ‘godstones’! That is not even a goddamn word --” Drake broke off his rant as Alyssa appeared in the hallway, covered in red. “Jesus Christ! Baby!” He thrust Lilyana into Leo’s waiting arms; the baby woke up and began to cry. “What happened?”

“Huh? You made the baby cry!” Alyssa went to take Lilyana, but Drake grabbed her.

“Look at you, Devereaux! Where are you bleeding from?” Frantic, he tugged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing her bra. She slapped his hand away.

“Stop! I’m not bleeding!”

“But --” He gestured to the bright stain marring her light blue dress.

She looked down. “Oh, that. Someone dumped gazpacho on me when I was walking through the ballroom.”

“What?”

Alyssa pointed. “It’s anarchy in there; didn’t you notice?”

The men peered into the room. Roughly 40 people, most screaming, flung food at each other, ducking to avoid flying lunch items and using plates and -- in several concerning cases -- overturned tables as shields.

“What happened?” Leo looked concerned.

Alyssa noted the guilty look on Drake’s face as she rocked and tried to shush Lilyana. “I think this baby needs to eat. Have you seen Liam or Jess?”

The question seemed to snap Leo back to reality. “You should look for them, Lyss. Head them off --”

“What do you mean ‘head them off’?”

But Leo continued, “And in the meantime, Drake and I need to find the twins!” He grabbed a loudly-protesting Drake by the arm and dragged him down the hall.

A moment after they turned the corner, Alyssa, still rocking the baby, was startled by her voice from behind her. She turned her head to see Liam and Jessica stalking rapidly toward her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!”

Jessica took Lilyana, cuddling her. “Let’s go eat.” Stepping into the ballroom, she shrieked, “What the fuck?”

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

“I need you to help me file a missing persons report,” Leo said 15 minutes later, after they had repeatedly combed the hallways looking for the jar of kidney stones. “My children are in danger!”

“Stop calling them your fucken children!”

Leo pressed his lips together with frustration. “I went through two hours of labor and five minutes of pushing, all for your GODSTONES! The least you can do is help report the twins’ disappearance and bring them back to their Papi Chulo.”

He was saved from Drake’s wrathful retort by a notification on Drake’s phone. “Oh, no you don’t,” Drake muttered, typing furiously on his keyboard.

“What are you doing?” Leo huffed impatiently.

“Someone outbid me for this lure I really want.” Drake finished typing and sucked in a breath. “Ohhhhh shit.”

“What now?”

Raking a hand through his hair, Drake extended his phone toward Leo. “Uhhhhh, I think you better look at this.”

“HOberta69? Drake, don’t buy anything from a seller with that name -- holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked closer.

He clicked the link; the phone screen filled with his own image. “Yeah,” video Leo said, “it hurt like a son of a bitch when I pushed these li’l fellers out, but that’s parenthood!” He held up the jar and shook it. “The rascals.”

Drake covered his face with his palm. “You are so fucken embarrassing.”

“This fucken kidnapper! I give her the best two-pump-chumpin’ she’s ever had and this is how the old bag repays me? Oh, the fucken humanity! I will hunt her down! I will throw her in the dungeons! I will --”

“She’s basically holding them for ransom,” Drake said reasonably. “Maybe if you message her …”

But Leo had already clicked the “buy it now” option. “Thank God I still have Liam’s credit card saved to my account.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “You paid for the dick rocks? With Liam’s credit card? You know he’s gonna fucken kill you?”

“Calm your tits, Drake.” Leo heaved a heavy sigh. “You and Alyssa haven’t created a family yet. The first lesson you’re gonna learn when the time comes, though, is that parenthood is full of bullshit sacrifice … and Liam is the lucky guy who gets to make that sacrifice.”

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