#*hits the top of the monitor* this baby will fit so much made up shit about one throwaway line from the show.

[overkill-max]

Duty and Desire (1 /4)

I just want to write a quick little AU fic, so hopefully everyone enjoys it.

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Summary: FBI Special Agent Amrohi is sent to the Middle East to help with interrogations. Death threats are issued and soon she goes from being safe to needing constant protection. What happens when Marine Security Guard Manuelos meets the unstoppable force that is Agent Amrohi? Just how easy is it to do your duty when it intersects with desire?

AKA

The Bodyguard AU

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... Her new job meant she was responsible for the prevention of the compromise of classified U.S. government information. And to protect U.S. diplomatic missions and personnel abroad.

Even those with insufferably green eyes and bright smiles.

Personnel like Special Agent Amrohi, who was too quick to laugh and share cat memes via email. Cruz was glad she wouldn’t be alive to see the declassification of Aaliyah’s emails...

Read it on AO3

[theringers]

watch me burn - pierre gasly

illicit affairs, part seven

summary: “oh baby, I've been thinking about it, you know that I've been dreaming about it” watch me burn / michele morrone

a/n: hi:) still a few more parts to go but i went a few chapters without smut and this was needed so enjoy:) also if u listen to the title song while u read its a whole new experience lmfao

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, semi public sex

2 months ago, to the day

Your eyes met his piercing blue eyes in the garage once again. It had been a month since you slept with Pierre and you haven’t stopped thinking about it. The way he stared at you as he fucked you was the exact same way he was glaring at you across the paddock. Needy and desperate.

You shook yourself back into focus and listened as Max’s strategist reiterated today’s race strategy but you couldn’t help daydreaming about what that man could do in bed.

You drowned out the conversation about tyres and looked over to Alpha Tauri at the perfect time. Pierre had his bottom lip between his teeth while he examined his car. He ran his hand slowly over the chassis seductively like he knew you were watching. His fingers grazed the metal in painstakingly slow circles. After he removed his hand from the car was when he caught your eyes. He gave you a smirk, not even a smile, and turned away. It was good to know that you weren’t the only one thinking about what happened.

The race started and you were in the garage, cheering on Max. He had started second on the grid but due to a first lap incident, he was fifth. He was not going to be happy after the race. He can tolerate if he fucks up but having other people interfere with his race is something he takes particularly hard.

Pierre’s car came up behind Max’s around a corner and got too close for comfort. Max jerked his steering wheel too much as he tried to turn, sending Pierre’s car straight into the barriers.

You stood up out of your seat and gasped. Everyone in the garage was relieved to see Max still racing and no one seemed to be concerned about Pierre. You took off your Red Bull Racing branded headphones and slammed them on the table before rushing over to the Alpha Tauri garage.

Anna was seated in her chair, looking worried, but not enough for you. She should be close to tears like you were.

“Have you heard anything from him?” You asked and Anna looked up, almost annoyed.

“He’s conscious,” his race engineer said, “but hurting.” You heard the groan come through followed by a bunch of curse words. He apologized profusely for his move but it was all Max’s fault.

You watched on Alpha Tauri’s monitors as the race was red flagged and decided to head back to Red Bull’s garage. “Let me know when you hear something,” you said to Anna. She nodded and looked back down to her phone. Fucking bitch. Her attitude made you not even feel bad about sleeping with her husband. She didn’t deserve him.

Max walked back to the garage looking like a life size bobble head with his heavy helmet swinging around. “Is Pierre okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“He’s conscious. He took a nasty hit.”

“I know, I feel bad. I didn’t mean to, the steering wheel just got away from me. I saw him crash in my rear view mirror.”

You were visibly shaken and Max always knew the right things to say when you weren’t feeling okay.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Max said, rubbing your back.

You nodded in agreement. “I know he will. I’m going to check on him at the medical center once the race starts again.”

Max smiled at you. “That would be good. Make sure you tell him I’m sorry.”

An engineer put his hand on Max’s shoulder and shoved a spreadsheet full of data in his face. He shrugged his shoulders and walked with the engineer to the monitors.

It wasn’t long before the race got underway again. Max made it up to third, podium position, but there were still at least 30 laps left. You started the trek through the paddock and over to the medical center. You were just a bit too late as you saw Pierre walking out down the ramp. He smiled when he saw you approach him.

“How ya feeling champ?” You asked him.

“I’m a bit sore thanks to your husband.”

Your face fell. “He sends his apologies. I promise he was actually remorseful.”

“Max? Remorseful? What did you do to him?”

You laughed. Max did have a temper and tended to be extra competitive but he had formed a special bond with Pierre these last few years. They weren’t friends by any means but they helped each other out whenever possible. This was one of the times that it wasn’t possible.

“He does genuinely feel bad, Pierre.”

“I know he does, it was a racing incident. I saw the footage.” He limped slightly through the paddock and winced when he put pressure on his left leg. “I think I should go lay down for a bit.” He took another step and lost his balance. You grabbed his arm and held him, making sure he stayed steady.

“This is it right here,” he pointed to his motor home.

“Do you want me to help you up there? I don’t want you to fall.” You said with a soft smile on your face. How could he resist your offer of help?

“Sure,” he limped over to the door and you aided him up a few stairs. “Shouldn’t you be watching the rest of the race? Last I checked, Max was doing really well.”

He sat down on the luxe white leather couch in exhaustion and you sat at the table across from him. “He wanted to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be fine.” You looked around the motorhome, observing your surroundings to seem busy. “So Anna’s nice…” you said, followed by a laugh. You had known Anna for a few months now. Their wedding was right before the season started and you really hadn’t known her much before then either. She tended to keep to herself and you wanted to respect that.

“She can be a bit…”

“Yeah, I know. I went to check on you after the crash and she looked like she wanted me dead.”

“In her defense, she caught me checking out your ass this morning. She was not very happy with me after that.”

You leaned forward to give him a light smack. “Pierre!” You shook your head in disappointment. “What did she think of the way you were practically fingering your car this morning?”

He played fake shy. “Oh, you saw that?”

“You make my heart beat crazy fast.” You admitted, putting your hand to your chest. “That didn’t help.”

“Well, as long as you enjoyed yourself.”

Enjoy yourself you did. He was in his same fireproofs from earlier and you were sure he didn’t know how turned on they made you. They were pulled down to his waist, the sleeves hanging low off his hips. His white undershirt was tight to his body, putting his abs on full display. His legs were spread wide, inviting you in. Was it hot in there? Was the air conditioning on?

He ran his hands over his abdomen and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He groaned, sounding like he was in pain, frustrated, and horny at the same time.

Why did he have to be so unbelievably irresistible to you? When you were around him it was almost impossible to contain yourself. There was a magnetic force dragging you to him constantly. You moved yourself to sit next to him, earning his attention and popping his head up.

“You look really hot right now,” you giggled to yourself. He made you feel like a teenager experiencing her first love. The nerves were through the roof.

“Well, I feel hot.” He looked around the walls of the motorhome. “Where the hell is the air conditioning and who turned it off?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god it’s not just me.” He looked over at you examined your face. He placed his hand on your red cheeks. “You’re flushed.”

When he touched you, a chill ran through your body. Your body felt on fire and he had the power to send a freezing cold chill through it all.

“My cheeks get really red when I get nervous.” You blushed even more having to admit that. It was your least favorite characteristic of yourself. Everyone always knew flat out when you were nervous.

“I can’t tell if it makes you look cute, like I want to hug you, or if I want to fuck you.” His hand still rested on your cheek as he looked back and forth between your eyes and lips. “You look so god damn innocent. Like I could totally ruin you with just a few minutes alone.” His thumb ran over your lower lip and you instinctively stuck your tongue out to meet his thumb. He took the opportunity to put his thumb in your mouth and you suctioned around it, keeping eye contact with him. “Y/n,” he breathlessly begged, “please.”

His lips crashed to yours, feeling warm and secure the moment they touched. His hands held your neck and you moaned into his mouth, forgetting what it felt like to be touched by him.

He hoisted you onto his lap, wincing a bit when you grazed his knee. His hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist as he pulled you closer to him, grinding your hips. “Don’t do this to me,” he said into your neck.

“Why not?” You said cheekily.

“We don’t have much time.” You almost forgot that there was a race going on right now.

“I can be quick.” You hopped off of him and locked the motorhome door as he undressed out of his fireproofs. He looked so good in his white suit but he looked even better naked. You slipped off your underwear and hoisted your sundress up to your waist before going back to his lap.

He guided your body on top of his, settling you down as you took all of him in, deep. “Shit. A condom.” You said, after the bare feeling of him inside of you set in. God did it feel good but it wasn’t right.

“I don’t think I have any in here.” He said. “I promise I’ll pull out. I need you so bad.” He lightly bit your nipple through your sundress.

“I will kill you if you’re lying to me.” You started to move your hips and moaned at the sensation. He felt so good filling you up all the way.

He took your ass in his hands and started to bounce you up and down on his cock. “That’s it baby, just like that.” He said, admiring your movements. “Fuck me like a good girl.”

Your head fell forward, the feeling running through your body getting almost unbearable to handle.

“Jesus, Pierre, you feel so good.” You pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and arched your back, feeling like all eyes were on you in the best way possible.

He watched you in awe as you rode his cock without a care in the world. “Your pussy is so tight baby. So tight for me.” A breathy moan escaped his lips and his face looked like he was in pure bliss. There’s nowhere else he would rather be.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come.” He said, panicking. You rushed to get off of him as you saw the liquid pool on his abs.

“Did you…?”

“I don’t think I got any inside of you.”

You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. God, you hoped not.

next part

[cheesus-doodles]

Exercising with Bestfriend Baji HCs

i swear all the toman boys spend the time they’re not fighting lifting weights and shit like wew have you see how toned every single one of them are? baby baji probs does the whole length of running, gymming and other stuff 💯💯 also my brainrot has pushed me to finally get moving again so bless TR and my toman boys 🙏🙏 a short one because im feeling bad watching TR and i just want to give baby Baji some love

‎

Masterlist

when you tell Baji that you’re looking to get some exercise into your schedule, this baby boy couldn’t be happier

trips over himself inviting you to join him on his workout routine

first time Baji ever shows up outside your house right on the dot, dressed for the occasion and with a backpack filled with water and snacks

definitely does not do this when its time for studying 🤡🤡

honestly baby boy is just happy to be able to spend even more time with you 🙏

plus you are doing something that he enjoys doing - maybe you two can have more fun together

on top of that he can finally return the favor after you spend so much time helping him with his studies

100% will go up to your room and drag you out if you aren’t ready within 5 minutes or so of him arriving

more than happy to try whatever kind of sport you want to try - even if he himself sucks at it

which Baji likes even better, means he gets to learn it with you

if its something he's unfamiliar with, will probably try and find a friend that is familiar with that sport/exercise and get them to teach you both together

if its something he's familiar with, Baji will know the best place to start learning and starts you off nice and easy

either way, be prepared for this baby boy to monitor you very closely whenever yall are exercising together cause he really cares about you

doesn't want you to do something wrong and then get hurt

stops you for breaks whenever he sees you start to struggle

hydrate hydrate hydrate

Baji always makes sure he carries extra water for you

have definitely ran into some walls and poles 🤡🤡

just pretend you never see that - he's fine, he swears

always piles on the encouragements

yall two go out to celebrate for every milestone yall hit together 💯💯

baby Baji is proud that you picked him as your exercise partner - no one else would be fit for the role besides your bestfriend afterall

this boy probably spends every minute that he's not with you, in school or struggling with homework working out in some form

hell he probably lifts or crunches whenever he gets stuck with schoolwork

hopes that you're exercising because you want to get fit and healthy and not because someone is bullying you about how you look

if he ever catches on if your increased exercising is because of bullying Baji will settle it on the side with the bully

someone is going to learn what it's like to be on the other side of constant exercise and fighting

never tells you about it - but you will start to realize that anyone that has ever made fun of you starts to turn and cross the street at the sight of you (and Baji)

still makes you exercise with him but will spill that he likes the way you look and that you should only be trying because you want to

baby is definitely blushing when he says this blessed 🙏🙏🙏

more than willing to teach you whatever he knows 

always reminds you not to compare yourself to others - everyone started out where you were

never pushes you too far, but definitely encourages you to try and take it one step further every time

makes sure you rest up well after every workout session - last thing he wants is you to get injured on his watch

yall go for snack runs and food runs as well to mix things up and keep things fun

instead of a ride on his motorbike, Baji and you will run there and back

definitely boasts to his mum about you 💯

[hikarus-shida]

MJF: "Take It" 18+

MJF x fem! reader

genre: smut/nsfw 18+, kinda fluff at end (meh)

warning: smut, 18+, angry sex, some edging and oral (male oral), foul language - also not proofread

summary: mjf is very angry after being humiliated by chris jericho. instead finding chris and beating him, he decides to take his anger out on his s/o sexually.

requested by: anonymous (I hope you enjoy!)

Masterlist

This is an 18+ imagine. If you're not 18+, please read at your discretion if you don’t intend on leaving this post. You’ve been warned. :)

Tag List: @cutierocker202

I think I got too carried away with this, oh well! I hope you all enjoy. I still have so many more smut requests to do - really got my work cut out for me lol!

You watched on the monitor as Chris and your boyfriend, Maxwell, spoke in the ring. They were going over Maxwell’s stipulations and what he wanted if he was going to face Chris. Everything was going well until Chris had gotten a cheap shot in on Maxwell. You gasped as Maxwell fell backwards, the smirk on Jericho making you fume up.

You knew Maxwell was going to be pissed and humiliated the moment he came backstage, so you made sure you were nearby to help him calm down. When Maxwell came backstage, he was red in the face and spewing profanities at everyone around him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy how angry he was and how much it turned you on, but you couldn’t think about him sexually right now, not when he was about to kill someone.

“Max, baby, you need to breathe. Jericho is an old piece of shit that’s nearing his death bed. You’ll have your chance to get back at him soon.” You tried your best to relax him with your words, but he wasn’t having it. Maxwell rolled his eyes at what you said, shaking his head as he laughed.

“My god Y/N, you’d be a terrible therapist. Don’t ever think of changing professions, you’re good at and good for nothing else. You know what you’re good for? Good for bending over, so don’t think you can tell me how to feel about what just happened to me. In fact,” Maxwell stopped speaking as he grabbed your arm and dragged you to The Pinnacle locker room, not caring who saw him. “How about you make me feel better the only way you know how that you won’t fuck up?”

This was a new side of Maxwell you were seeing. Sure, you two have had makeup sex, rough sex, slow love-making sex, but sex with an angry Max? You had a feeling that this would still hurt you in the morning.

Maxwell shut the door and locked it behind the two of you, walking over the couch and sitting down. His legs spread open as he looked over at you with intent, eyes full of fire. “Well, whore? Do you really want to keep me, of all people, waiting?”

You scrambled over to where he sat, getting on your knees in the open space between his legs. Unbuckling his belt, you inched up and tried your best to not eagerly pull down his pants. You licked your lips as his member sprang up, almost as if it was happy to see you. Maxwell grabbed his cock with his right hand, jerking it slightly before smacking each side of your cheeks with it.

“Suck me off.” He commanded, laying back onto the couch with one arm on the arm rest and the other laying on the top side of the couch. You took just the tip into your mouth at first, Maxwell was big and he took pride in his length. He knew that you wouldn’t be able to put all of him in your mouth, but if you didn’t try he wasn’t going to let you hear the end of it.

Your tongue swirled over his tip as your head bobbed down to the middle of his shaft. You continued your head bobbing motions, your lips wrapping tightly around his length. Your mouth began to make suction noises and as the amount of spit on his member grew, you grabbed the remaining left that couldn’t fit in your mouth and began to jerk it as you gave him head.

Maxwell smacked your hand away though and gripped your hair, making you pull forward and take more of him in you, “Don’t think for a second that you’re gonna get away with not putting me in your mouth entirely. Be a good whore and take it, take it all.”

You had to prepare yourself mentally before doing so, but Maxwell didn’t give you any time. He was running out of patience and decided to take matters into his own hands, grabbing the sides of your head with both hands and pushing it down. Your gag reflex had activated as his cock was practically down your throat at this point. Maxwell groaned profanities and buckled his hips as he thrusted into your mouth, a smirk that refused to leave on his lips.

Maxwell removed his length from your mouth, not before tapping it on your tongue. The trail of spit from your mouth all the way to the end of his shaft was a sight to see, one of the best, and it only made him harder. Maxwell grabbed your chin, taking it in between his thumb and index finger as he looked into your eyes. “Take those fucking pants off. I wanna fuck you all night until I’m no longer angry.”

You got up immediately and obeyed, your underwear was soaked and you couldn’t wait for Maxwell to touch you where you desperately needed it. He pulled you on top of him and a moaning gasp came out of you as your folds came in contact with his tip. Maxwell slid his tip through your folds over and over again, looking at you as he teased you.

He slid into your pussy, being courteous enough to give you time to adjust but not for long as he wrapped both arms around your lower back and pulled you towards him as he began to drill you from below. His thrusts were fast and hard, calculated almost, as your skin clapped together. You whined and moaned, your clit being stimulated from rubbing against his pubic area.

Maxwell kept his momentum, your juices flowing all over his shaft and down to his balls. He grunted and groaned, taking your hair into his hands in a tight grip. He pulled you in for a kiss and god, was it a nasty one. Your lips connecting together, so wet and sloppy, your tongue flicking against each other as he nibbled on it before pulling away. The hand that held your hair released it’s grip, moving down to your ass and releasing hard strikes that were sure to leave a mark on it. “Look at you whore, losing your mind over this cock, wetting this nice leather couch like the dirty girl you are.”

You nodded in response, your lips parting as more moans continued to escape. You were close to your breaking point, but Maxwell had other plans. He hoisted you off of him and stood up, pushing you into the couch, positioning you into doggy. Maxwell slammed into you, making you yell out in bliss, before pulling out. He would thrust into you with power then pull out, doing this a few times before slamming into you again and gripping your hips tightly.

“You’re so tight, so wet. It’s a shame that no one else will ever get to experience you like I do. And it’s too fucking bad that they don’t know you like to be humiliated, just like how I was out there.” He spat out, his grunts getting significantly louder and it was clear that Maxwell didn’t give a shit who heard you two. His hands moved down to your ass, gripping it and slapping it. Maxwell slapped it over and over again, each slap more powerful and harder than the last. “Oh Y/N, if only you could see how red you are. I bet you’d enjoy it like the whore you are. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Maxwell, I would,” You cried out, the stinging sensation only pulling you closer to the edge. You were going to cum soon and you knew it, that feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Oh Max baby, I’m gonna cum. Will you let me cum?”

Maxwell cackled almost maniacally, “Now why the hell would I let you cum right now? You don’t deserve to cum just yet.” His length slid in and out of you harder as he got more deeper, the wetness making sloshing sounds that filled the both of your ears.

Maxwell was on his way to releasing and he didn’t stop his powerful thrusts yet. He hunched over you as he continued to thrust, his member now hitting you deeper and deeper. He could feel his cock swelling with each thrust and grunted, the sweat beading at his forehead beginning to trickle down. You on the other hand were a mess; you wanted to cum so bad and were so close to disobeying Maxwell, just to feel that sweet release.

Maxwell was thinking of you though and reached his right hand over you, his fingers rubbing your clit and pinching your bud. His fingers played with your clit sloppily as you gripped onto the couch and laid your head on it, biting your lip. “Cum for me, whore.” He uttered, his fingers not leaving your bud.

You cried out as you came on his member, his thrust not faulting as he continued to slam into you deeply and harder. Maxwell lived for breaking you down, so his fingers still kept on rubbing your clit as he kept on thrusting. His hips crashing into your ass harder each other, you were sure the both of you were going to be so sore the next day.

Maxwell’s hands transitioned onto your shoulders as he pounded you for the last few times, his sweet seed ready to fill you any minute now. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fill that pretty pussy up with my cum.” He groaned, his cock twitching as he began to cum and ooze into you.

The grip on your shoulders tightened as Maxwell released his load into you, he even moaned at the sensitive sensation it left him as he was still inside of you. He pulled out and laid beside you, not bothering to clean up yet. Like clockwork, the softy side of Maxwell came out and he pulled you close to him, kissing you on the forehead.

“Was I too rough on you?” He asked, heavily breathing. You shook your head, in fact you actually enjoyed this version of Maxwell and wanted to see more of him in bed, but it was nice to see the sweetheart in him again.

“No, I’m okay. You’re not mad anymore and I’m a happy girl that just got the shit fucked out of me. So, we’re even.” You shrugged, laying your head onto his chest as you two shared a laugh.

“Let’s go freshen up, okay? I’m gonna take care of you now.”

[basicjetsetter]

The Fall of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Heavy Suspense, Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Gambling, Drinking

♢ Word Count: 6.5k

☆ A/N: No joke, this took me about two years to conceptualize. Two freaking years. But I can 100% say it was worth it to write every word. This is by far one of my most creative works and I love that I get to finally share it with you all. Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading!

You couldn’t help but notice and admire how pretty the sky appeared when it was tinged in the auroral haze of an autumn morning and backdropped by the twinkling glass panes of New York’s notorious skyscrapers. Though autumn’s end isn’t for a couple of weeks, the lukewarm season allowed Manhattan a preview of winter’s frigid air. The city's constant roar hummed down to a distant lullaby as you walked up the steps and in through the doors of the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It’s an impressively modern building, one you’ve become intimately familiar with in the past couple of years. Everything inside screams order, from the plain white, bleach-scented linoleum floors to the rows upon rows of caged boxes containing a range of one-time offenders, serial criminals, and constant jailbirds. The first time you ever entered the establishment, it struck you just how much the atmosphere felt devoid and depraved, almost as if hope and happiness got stopped, frisked, and turned away at the door. You never liked staying more than necessary.

None of the four guards stationed along the main lobby walls paid you any attention as you marched up to the reception desk. Their inattention didn’t spawn out of contempt but out of fear. They knew who you were here for.

The receptionist, on the other hand, wouldn’t care if the Queen of England herself hop-scotched through the front entrance, bowed, and bestowed him the coveted Royal Crown on a jewel-encrusted platter.

He certainly never took an interest in your frequent visits. The first time you set foot into this building, a bright-eyed attorney anxious to speak with her first client, the oaf of a man merely grunted at your carefully constructed introductions and waved you off like a pesky fly. On a typical day, your exchange of words consisted of him curtly asking you to state your business while he half-listened to your response and stabbed at his keyboard with blunt fingers. Detaching his gaze from the monitor might have required exhaustion of his half-assed energy.

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

Most of your ordinary clients got shipped to this facility and locked up with the rest of the inmates until you picked up their case. Unlike this particular client you planned on springing today, those other men lacked the say-so to determine their cell. None of them came close to his status. They didn’t have the power nor the money to hire a personal attorney, and none of their crimes could ever match those of the calculated, cunning man who controlled all New York's avenues and boulevards.

In the streets, he’s known as Deus. Depending on how close you are in his circle, he's either Parker or Pete. The name in the system is Peter Benjamin Parker. Your fiancé.

| Last Evening  |

“Stop fidgeting with your collar, Peter.”

“This fucking bowtie keeps… shit… it keeps choking me.” He growled out his frustration. “I’m going to fire that damn stylist.”

You threw him an exasperated glare as he ripped off the accessory. “Maybe if you hadn’t told him to pick any old bowtie, you wouldn’t be whining so much.”

“Remind me again why you're forcing me to wear this, anyway?” He paused for effect, placing his hand under his chin like Rodin’s The Thinker, and then snapped his fingers in dramatic realization. “Oh, right! Because Stark is a pretentious asshole, who thinks tuxedos are mandatory at all events thrown in his honor.”

Peter may hate the idea of wearing a formal tuxedo for the whole night, but you were going to enjoy every last minute of him in that attire, mainly because he resembles a model who stepped right off the page of a GQ cover. The low-lighting in this limousine certainly did its best to heighten your mood, highlighting the sharp angles of Peter’s clenched jaw. You’d have to remember to send Pepper a Thank You basket for planning the event as Black Tie.

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Tony tonight?” To see if his jaw could tighten any further, you coyly add, “He is the new Governor of New York, after all.”

Mission accomplished. Peter leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, the light that glinted off of his platinum Rolex creating a scattered array of lights against the black leather seats. You pried your eyes off the extension of his neck as he spoke. “Great,” he huffed. “That’s exactly what I need right now. A gloating Stark who’s now legally duty-bound to hound my ass. One more thing to think about.”

As the limo pulled up to a slow halt in front of the Plaza Hotel, you grabbed one of Peter’s hands and held it until his eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Everything’s going to be alright, baby.”

The driver opened the door before Peter could speak and held out his gloved hand for you. You’ve been to the Plaza Hotel on many occasions, mostly business, and yet the sight of the château-styled building at night, with its myriad of lit windows and its luxurious lobby never ceased to leave you breathless. The view effectually took your gaze away from Peter’s tux, but not for long. The moment he stepped out of the limo, bathed in the golden light of the building, you felt transfixed all over again.

Peter discreetly tipped the driver and then turned to face you, clearly not as impressed with the Plaza Hotel as you were. He placed his warm hands on the swells of your hips and pulled you in front of him. His eyes appraised you, from your stiletto heels to your tight-fitted, off the shoulder evening dress, traveling up to your chunky Senegalese twists elegantly laid over your shoulder. He let out a low whistle and said, “If looks could kill…”

You straightened his collar and opened up the top button of his gingham dress shirt for both your sakes, then swiftly leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He wolfishly grinned as you quickly detached yourself from his borderline caressing hold. You knew he’d want more than a short kiss, but you couldn’t afford to get sidetracked tonight.

“Behave,” you chided.

“And if I don’t, future Mrs. Parker?” he prodded, a huskiness in his tone that sent a delicious shiver through you. His steps slowly brought him closer and closer to where you stood, and you weren’t sure if you’d have the will power to move away again. One proper kiss wouldn’t hurt…

A disembodied voice groaned in your ear. “Book a room!”

Peter chuckled unabashedly. “Sorry, Ned.” Though he tried to appear unaffected, Peter made an effort to clear his throat and tugged at his collar. “You ready on your end?”

“Yeah. Mic’s clear. Computer’s up and running. I’m all set. Can’t say the same for you two.”

You glance accusingly at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’re ready. Sorry about that. You know how Peter gets when I wear twists.”

Ned verbally shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still refuse to sit on my couch, by the way, even after washing it four times! You owe me a new couch, dude. For my trauma.”

Peter half-heartedly grinned at the ground and said, “Dude, if we pull this off, I’ll buy you a whole new furniture set.” The one half of his grin faded away, replaced with a grim line of determination and sobriety. “Where’s he at?”

A few clicks rang through your ear-piece, then Ned replied, “Not far. About twenty minutes away, on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst. Might be a while before he reaches the Plaza, though. There’s a jam on the bridge.”

“Cool, thanks. Keep us updated.” Peter didn’t want you to catch his expression, but you didn’t need to directly see it to realize he’s in business mode, cold and calculated, little to no warmth or playfulness left in his brown eyes.

Copying your move, he took your hand and held it until you both stared at each other. Briefly, with your eyes locked in place, he searched for any sliver of doubt, giving you one last option to ditch and save face while he executes the plan solo. You did not doubt that he and Ned could somehow pull it off without so much as a hiccup. Odds always work in Peter’s favor. For the past three years that you’ve known him, he’s never lost a gamble. Tonight, though, the gamble must include you, a new piece to his complicated game—a variable. If anything were to head south, the last thing Peter would want is to implicate you.

You understood the risks: the potential loss of your career, your squeaky clean record, and possibly your life. You wouldn’t be here, with him of all people, if you didn’t trust the plan. So you didn’t sway, letting your eyes confirm where you stood on the matter. I’m sticking with you. This exchange passed in absolute silence, ending with a small nod and a lingering kiss to your palm.

It’s always surprising to see Peter without a trace of humor or good-nature in his eyes. It took you a while to acclimate to his night and day demeanor and even longer to trust which emotions were real and which served a purpose. As he slides a cocky smile back onto his face, one that graces every part of his features, and holds out his arm for you, you knew. He’s in his element.

The game’s begun.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Not even five seconds into the Terrace Room and your jaw hit the floor. Pepper sure knows how to out-do herself.

The room displayed the same historic French charm as the outside façade, but much more grand, decorated with multiple crystalline chandeliers, large stone semicircular archways, and classical art adorning the ceilings. Somehow, Pepper’s touch of cream-colored table cloths, bouquets of immaculate white peonies, golden napkins, and floating candle holders added the perfect ambiance for Tony’s celebration.

True to his fashion.

The Man of the Hour is currently giving his speech at the head table as the Maître D’ checks your reservation and prompts a server to escort you and Peter to your table. It’s located not too far away from Tony's, near a stone wall and a divider separating the other tables. You weren’t entirely familiar with the three people who were already seated, but they graciously offered quiet nods of welcome. Peter grabbed your chair for you and smoothly pushed you in before taking his seat next to you while you strained to catch the last bits of Tony’s speech.

“… and I can truly say that without you, my amazing colleagues, friends, and organizers present tonight, this win would not have been possible. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And um, yeah. Thank you, all.” Tony lifted his champagne flute into the air with a flourish and a winning grin. Peter rolled his eyes. “Here’s to an awesome four years as New York’s new Governor.”

Everyone stood up to give him a round of applause, Peter’s claps more grudging than encouraging, but you were glad he put in some effort. When he looked your way, you flashed him a loving smile and mouthed Thank you. He rolled his eyes again, playfully this time, and quirked his mouth up in an amused grin.

Live music picked up as soon as Tony took his seat, soft jazz that blended well with the onslaught of muffled chatter and clinks of silverware against glass plates. Servers incrementally brought out the main course of roasted beef filet dressed in tomato tarragon sauce and a side of arugula salad. Peter stifled a chuckle as he heard your stomach growl when a server placed the plate of food in front of you.

As another server leaned in to pour you a glass of wine, you held out a hand and gave him a polite smile. “No, thank you. May I just have some water, please?”

The young man nodded, but Peter piped up before he could head off. “Got anything stronger back there? Bacardi? Whiskey? Rum?”

“We have Vodka, sir,” the server stuttered out.

“Excellent. I’ll take a whole bottle of that,” Peter grinned and pressed a couple of $100 bills into the man’s palm. Peter’s effect on people never got tiring to witness. He and the server appear to be around the same age, somewhere near the 25-year mark, yet Peter's vibe reduced the server to stutters. You’d say the tux assisted with his air of importance, but you’ve seen Peter have that same effect on businessmen while wearing a shirt that read “I lost an electron. Are you positive?” and plaid pajama bottoms.

The server vigorously nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Don’t drink too much,” you cautioned in a tone low enough for only Peter’s ears. “You know how you get, and I don’t want Tony to have an excuse to place cuffs on you.”

Peter scoffed and mumbled around a bite of salad, “If I looked at him wrong, Tony would cuff me.”

“Now that’s a little presumptuous, ain’t it, Petey?”

You jumped up from your seat and wrapped Tony up in a hug he warmly returned. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Governor Stark.”

Tony waved a hand, yet a big smile remained plastered on his face. “Ah, come on. It was bound to happen. Policy is the new name of the game, but I’ll sure miss that courtroom. You missy, on the other hand, deserve all the praise in the world. Best and youngest attorney in the whole state. Mentored by yours truly.” He trailed off, glancing in Peter’s general direction. “Though I question why you waste your talents on the likes of him.”

Now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, Peter slanted his eyes toward yours as you silently pleaded with him to be cordial. Once he brought his eyes back to Tony, he jerked up his chin in recognition. “Stark.”

Tony nodded at Peter. “Baby-faced Criminal.”

“Hey, now!” Pepper swooped in, pulling Tony back a little so she could see you better. “Just look at you! Always a beauty in everything you wear,” she gushed, then put on a stern face for Tony and Peter. “No roughhousing, tonight, boys. I mean it.”

“I was just making a valid critique on my star pupil's decision to become the Personal Attorney to a well-known arms dealer, is all,” Tony defended. He threw up his hands and drew up an innocent expression that might have worked had it not looked so derisive.

Pepper, pursing her lips, nodded sagely. “Right. Okay. So you were being an ass?”

“Pep!” Tony protested incredulously. Peter didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smirk.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Oil and water can never mix, no matter how hard you try. No, Tony did not take the news of you becoming Peter’s PA well, and he’s made sure to rake you over the coals bout it every time the chance arises. You’ve been Peter’s attorney coming up on two years, and there’s not a sign from either of them that the grudge will ever be let go, not even for your sake, though they do try when threatened.

“I want you two to say something nice to each other and then let the rest of the night go on in peace. Go ahead,” Pepper ordered, indicating for Tony to go first.

Tony took in an excessive amount of air, then puffed it out. “Alright, Parker. Um… I like how you ostensibly don’t know the rules to a Black Tie Event.” He ended with a gesture to Peter’s lack of a bowtie. The poor thing lies in a mangled heap on the floor of the limousine.

Peter ticked up his eyebrow. “I like how the stick up your ass seems to reach new heights every time we speak, Stark.”

Pepper sighed and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get. Come on, you. There are many more guests to greet.” She tugged him along, throwing you an apologetic smile over her slim shoulder as they walked away.

Almost out of earshot, you could hear Tony say, “He calls himself Deus, for Christ's sake!”

They left you two in heated silence. Peter refused to meet your glare, instead choosing to chug down the freshly set out champagne flute filled with Vodka. He immediately flushed as he poured himself another glass full.

“Peter—” you started.

“Don’t say it. I tried, alright?” He slumped against the back of his seat, then shot you a surly frown. “You didn’t even mention our engagement to him. Again.”

You looked down at your untouched food, suddenly not hungry.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Were you ever going to tell him?”

An anchor of guilt plummeted to the pit of your stomach, chasing away the desire to eat anything for the next few hours. Your answer came out sounding whittled and nearly swallowed by the music. “Pepper knows.”

“And that tells me all I need to know,” said Peter, pushing away from the table and taking the bottle of Vodka with him.

You tried to stamp down the rise of startled panic by clearing your throat and evenly asking, “Where are you going?” A high octave managed to slip in on the last word.

“To socialize. Play some cards. Place a few bets. Criminal stuff. You want in?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, moving further and further away as a wave of hot anger replaced your shame. “Oh, my bad. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t want your mentor seeing you ruin your perfect image with, what was it? The likes of me?”

He swaggered off, not a mere hint of his hurt evident in his show of arrogance.

You gingerly sat back in your seat, careful to ignore the inquiring stares from those who caught most of the argument. Your nails came close to puncturing your palms, and if your jaw clamped any tighter, it would snap. An annoying, persistent inner voice chimed out, He’s right, you know. It was probably Ned.

You understood Peter enough to know that Tony not being clued in on your engagement wounded him. He told everyone in his life about you—told Aunt May the second you finally agreed to go on that first date with him, nearly shouted to all the rooftops in Queens “SHE SAID YES!” when he proposed three months ago. Yet here you are, dragging your heels on telling Tony, one of the most influential people in your life, that you’re marrying the love of your life. He wouldn’t understand. Or, rather, he would, and he’d abhor your decision.

You’re not sure you could ever explain to Tony how Peter is your favorite star in the night sky. A big, glowing ball of light you spend hours upon hours admiring and appreciating. One that just burns brighter than all the rest.

Your engagement ring sparkled at you, winking as you moved it side to side and marveled at the simple yet elegant details of the inlaid sapphires and diamonds. Peter told you he picked it out a week before the proposal, but you knew he carried it around in his pocket for months, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When he asked, you couldn’t say yes fast enough. At that moment, Tony and his aversion to Peter never crossed your mind, but it’s lingered ever since.

Guilt returned as a salve for your anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked a woman sitting at your table, a slight accent in her voice. She appears to be young, almost too young to be at this function. The glimmer in her eye and the hitch in her smile denoted a wise person. Goddess braids sat on top of her head like a crown, and she’s wearing a simple black dress with pearl studs that nicely accentuates her dark brown skin.

You uncurled your hands and blew out a held-in breath, kindly smiling back. “Something like that.”

She held out a hand. “Shuri Udaku.”

That name came with an inkling of recognition, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook hands with the young woman, giving her your name. When you momentarily looked at your clasped hands, your eyes dropped down to catch the jewelry on her wrist. They weren’t pearls like her earrings. They were onyx and emblazoned with ivory symbols on each bead: Kimoyo beads, a technological revolution currently sweeping the nation, manufactured only by one woman. The realization hit you hard. “Hold on a second. The Shuri Udaku? Founder of Vibranium Tech, Shuri Udaku?”

“The one and only,” she answered, her smile growing wider.

This confirmation launched you into a field of questions and acknowledgments. It turns out she knows of your work as New York’s youngest attorney, but you know a bit more about her line of work because Peter always voiced his interest in her growing business. On the surface, Vibranium Tech is like any other technology company, issuing out new and improved ways of communication and medical treatment. In the underground, there’s been rumors of her interest in creating weapons—technological weapons unlike any the arms dealing business has seen before.

You didn’t want to bring up that facet of knowledge just yet. The normal conversation worked wonders on you, loosening your tense muscles and clamped jaw, all of them singing sweet relief once your body naturally released the tension.

“So, did I hear Tony correctly when he said your partner is the Deus?”

You winced and found yourself searching the room for a glimpse of your fiancé. He’s commandeered a table in the back of the venue, showing off his black and gold deck of playing cards to a group of interested guests itching to play a hand.

“Yeah, that would be him.”

“That’s so badass,” Shuri mused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is he like the mob bosses in TV shows and movies? Like does he have henchmen? Bad-temper? High-speed car chases with the police?”

You genuinely laughed. “Not exactly. Henchmen, kind of. Bad temper is rare. And he’d never shut up about having a high-speed car chase with the police. No, he’s a little more lowkey than all that.”

Long ago, back when you were innocent to the life Peter led, you assumed that that’s precisely what it entailed—an exhilarating life of high stakes, exorbitant amounts of money, strong-armed goons, and reckless shoot-outs. That might be the case for a few bosses, but not Peter. He’s too strategic, and the ins-and-outs of his trade are too complicated to pin on just one person.

“Well, I, um…” she stopped, considered her words. You unconsciously drew in closer. “I may have a business offer for him.”

You kept your smile on, but it felt more commercial-like than friendly. “What type of offer?”

Shuri gulped down a generous amount of her red wine, then darted her eyes side to side before speaking lowly. “Would he be interested in high powered weapons?”

You raised your eyebrows but kept up your cool front. “Depends. In exchange for what?”

“Protection.”

A voice in your ear announced, “He’s here.”

You ignored it, focusing on Shuri. “From who?”

Shuri peeked around again to make sure no one paid any attention to your private conversation, but her examination stopped at the entrance. “From him.”

You cautiously slid your eyes to the main entrance, heart hammering a thunderous rhythm in your chest.

Brock Rumlow. Peter's rival and leader of a group named the Scorpions. A peddler/enforcer for the East Coast's largest mob: Hydra. Of course he’d try to pressure Shuri for the weapons.

He didn’t come dressed according to the occasion, opting for his usual tight-fitted black Tee and gray tactical pants. The visible half of his tattoo, a scorpion’s tail curling out from the cuff of his shirt, stood out against his tan skin. Two other men stood behind him, wearing almost identical clothes to Rumlow and sporting the same scorpion tattoo on their right bicep, not exactly hiding that they carried concealed weapons. All the voices in the room hollowed out to stiff silence, and even the band took its cue to halt. Your eyes found Tony in time to see his jaw tick for the briefest moment, and then he slid right back into a restrained version of his good cheer.

“Hey, hey! This is still a party, people,” Tony called out, addressing the guests. “Eat, talk, have a good time.” He signaled to the band to pick up the music, then crossed the room to chat with Rumlow. You’ve never seen him so keyed up.

You touched Shuri’s hand comfortingly, not taking your eyes off Rumlow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She deflated gratefully. “Thank you.”

You nodded, already out of your seat and rushing to the back of the room, stopping short once you arrived at Peter’s table. He’s thoroughly invested in this round of poker, glancing back and forth from his cards to the nervous twitches of the five men and one woman at the table. You recognized four of them: Judge Nicholas Fury, Lieutenant Steve Rogers, Manhattan’s Chief of Police Sam Wilson, and District Attorney Natasha Romanoff. Sweat is perspiring on Steve’s forehead, Sam’s leg can’t stop bouncing up and down, and even Natasha, a woman known for keeping her cool while in the line of fire, is chewing on her lower lip. Fury's not fazed. He just seems tapped out.

From what you can estimate, about six hundred dollars lies in the middle of the table.

Sam and Steve speak at the same time. “I’m out.”

The other men followed suit, muttering their defeat. Fury dropped his cards down on the table facedown.

Peter wickedly grinned, zeroing in on Natasha. “Got any last words?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at his taunt. “Kiss my ass, Parker.” She put her cards down face up, showing her hand, and quirked up an eyebrow that dared him to top that: three Queens and a pair of twos. Full House.

Peter laid down his hand. Four 3’s and an ace. Four of a Kind.

A chorus of fucks circled the group as Peter cleared the table of the crumpled bills. Two new bottles of opened Vodka sit on the table as well, along with seven shot-glasses. Steve’s glass remains untouched, but the others look like they’ve drained two shots each.

“Bucky’s gonna kill me for losing so much money,” Steve muttered, twirling around his wedding band.

Sam sadly shook his head. “Dammit, man. I thought we had him this time, too.” He eyed Peter with suspicion. “What you got, kid? X-Ray vision?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to escape its sleek style. “Nah, jus’ luck.”

“Yeah, well, here’s to hoping your luck runs out,” said Fury, raising his shot glass and slamming it back.

You inched closer to Peter’s side. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes are glazed over. You wonder how he’s even capable of sitting up, let alone playing people out of their money.

“Peter,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t shake you off. “Rumlow’s here.”

The remaining people at the table began to disperse in a collective gripe of loss. Peter didn’t say anything, only jerked his head in acknowledgment.

Your hand itched to slap him back into reality. “Peter, baby, listen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have told Tony about our engagement.” Desperation sapped into your words. “It was stupid and childish not to, and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll tell him. But for the love of God, this is not the time to—”

“Well, well, well! Look who we got here! Deus, in the flesh!” boomed a disturbingly baritone voice. Rumlow, shadowed by his two men, plopped down in one of the empty chairs, sitting right across from Peter. He glanced at Peter first, then languorously landed his gaze on you. “And who’s this pretty lady you got here?”

“My fiancée,” answered Peter monotonously. He said it as if the words synonymously meant: just some chick. A dull kind of ache slashed through your chest as you dropped your hand back down to your side and took two steps away from him.

Rumlow pretended to miss the interaction, appearing to be in deep thought, and then clapped his hands once. “Oh! The attorney. I don’t believe I ever formally introduced myself.” He offered his large hand to you, grinning with his whole teeth on display. “Name’s Brock Rumlow.”

You reluctantly let him take your outstretched hand. His skin is blazing hot, to the point where your hand nearly felt suffocated. He brought it to his lips for a small kiss that twisted your stomach in knots. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rumlow.”

Rumlow winked. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. And call me Brock.”

“Fuck do you want, Rumlow?” Peter bit out, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling them.

“Ooh,” tsked Rumlow. He made sure to lay another grin on you just to irk Peter. “Come on, Parker. Can’t a guy just enjoy some company once in a while? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” He watched Peter’s movements, the cards haphazardly sliding back and forth from one hand to the next. “Playing cards, huh? You up for a quick game?”

You butt in with a pressed laugh. “Actually, we were just leaving.” Drunk Peter is overly confident. If Rumlow found that out, you knew he’d take Peter for everything he’s worth.

“So soon?” Rumlow glanced down at his watch. “It’s not even ten yet. What’s the rush?”

Peter cut you off. “No rush. I’m staying. You play Draw Poker?”

“ ‘Course I play Draw Poker, but that seems too simple for you, Parker. Don’t you wanna make it hard for me? A little Texas Hold ’em?”

“Draw Poker,” said Peter, splitting the deck against the table and flexing the cards enough to have them rapidly collapse into place. “Take it or leave it.”

A dark, mischievous smile brewed on Rumlow’s face as he watched Peter fumble with the deck and, at some point, entirely losing his grip. You discreetly watched him size up his opponent, dismayed to find that he likes the assessment. Hair is stubbornly falling into Peter’s eyes, eyes that anyone a mile away could point out are bleary and bloodshot. The flush from earlier deepened on his neck and flashed scarlet across his face—an easy target for a skilled player.

“Deal me in.”

The first game played out exactly as you feared it would. Rumlow and Peter agreed on a $100 ante to get the ball rolling, both pulling out a single bill from their pocket and placing it in the middle of the table, then they settled for a pot-limit. Though Peter’s shuffling skills lacked his usual finesse, he expertly dealt each of them a hand of five cards.

You leaned against the back wall with your arms crossed over your chest and watched the game unfold. Rumlow processes his hands at the speed of a bullet, snapping his eyes to his cards once he’s drawn, and immediately discards the ones he doesn’t like when it’s his turn. Other than the minutest crinkle in the corner of his left eye, you couldn’t tell when he felt confident or when he bluffed. He gave nothing away, not even an involuntary scratch to his five o’clock shadow. He was so in the zone he began to partake in the Vodka bottle close to his side of the table, swigging straight from the mouth.

On the other hand, Peter moved as if a millisecond was the equivalent length of ten years, scanning his cards more than several times with pursed lips, looking up at Rumlow, scanning his cards again, once, twice, three times, then reluctantly discarding some. He frequently shoves a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyesight, but the same unruly strands find their way back to impede his vision. He scratches the shell of his ear when he’s about to draw, and Rumlow’s picked up the tell.

Rumlow never even had to do more than call. The confident drunk in Peter always raised.

The pot increased to about $1400 before Peter folded his hand.

As Rumlow collected his winnings, he suggestively lifted his eyebrows at Peter. “Care for round 2?”

Confident drunk Peter never backs down, even when he’s the dumbass who can’t remember that he’s brought fists to a gunfight.

You step back up to the table and put a restrictive hand on Peter’s wrist to keep him from picking up the cards. “Enough, Peter. You’re done. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not done,” he said, snatching his arm away from your touch. “Go talk to Tony or somethin’. I’ve got this.”

Rumlow caught your bewildered stare and shrugged his broad shoulders, a gesture that didn’t match his cocky smile. He has Peter right where he wants him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him because Peter is a willing participant running on alcohol and no critical judgment.

You should have left right then and there, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You couldn’t leave Peter like this. Sighing, you pulled up a chair to the table and sat beside Peter.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him,” said Rumlow, putting on a smile too sardonic to be comforting. Too artificial to be genuine.

His lie didn’t surprise you. The hole Peter dug himself did.

The second round went similarly to the first. Flash decisions from Rumlow and molasses-like contemplation from Peter. This time, though, the ante came up to $200. As far as you knew, Peter is only carrying about $2500 in his pockets.

By the time the fourth round started, Peter’s Rolex lies on the table. The ante is up to $1000. Somehow the pot-limit became no-limit.

By the fifth round, Peter made paperless bets. Ante is $10,000. Rumlow knew Peter’s pockets went deep, and he’d keep at it until he struck gold.

Nothing you said stopped him. Peter hadn’t won a single hand. He’s desperate for at least one good hand; he’s got something to prove.

Rumlow kept drinking with each win.

By the seventh round, a crowd is around the table, watching in horrified interest as Peter raises the bet to one million dollars. The most significant amount you’ve ever seen him bet. So far, he’s held this hand for three draws.

Peter’s hair lost all semblance of its previous style, hanging over his forehead in disarray. He’s hunched over in his chair, his jacket’s off, and he’s rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves to his elbows. His group’s signature tattoo stands out stark against his inner wrist: a roughly sketched spider.

Rumlow, eyes now as bloodshot as Peter’s and face just as flushed under his tan skin, asks, “Think you got something, Parker?”

“Do you?” Peter countered.

“I just might.” Rumlow ran a finger against his bottom lip, then smiled at his hand. “Why don’t you say we make this last Showdown a little more interesting, eh?”

A terrible queasiness wrapped around your gut.

Peter listened intently, his silence Rumlow’s indication to continue.

“$10 million. And the best trading routes. Including foreign connections. I want everything you got.”

You turned to Peter, placing your hand on top of his until he finally looked at you. Your eyes begged him to listen to you for once tonight. “Please don’t do this.”

His reply sounded tortured. “But I can. I have to.”

“Is winning really worth losing everything?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rumlow chuckled ominously. “Oh, that’s not everything, sweetheart. We both know what’s left.” He gave you a meaningful stare.

Your eyes widened in disgust.

Peter snapped his gaze to Rumlow. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No, but I want her. Imagine having New York’s best attorney in my arsenal. How many charges has she saved your sorry ass from, Parker? Five? All felonies, right? You lucky son of a bitch.” Rumlow’s smile is sinister. “Not that lucky tonight, huh?”

Peter spoke through gritted teeth. “Back off, Rumlow.”

“To have Deus wrapped around her finger, she must be pretty damn good. Is she, Parker?” goaded Rumlow, ignoring Peter’s warning. “Is she any good?”

Instinct controlled your hands as they seized Peter’s cards before he launched himself over the table and landed an ear-splitting blow to Rumlow’s jaw. Rumlow must’ve known the punch was coming. Still, he hadn’t expected the impact to be that forceful because his eyes blinked in astonishment. The two men behind Rumlow didn’t react fast enough, missing Peter as he stood above Rumlow, grabbed the handgun hidden in the waist of his pants and pressed the muzzle deep into Rumlow’s temple, finger on the trigger.

Rumlow shifted his eyes up to Peter. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Peter’s voice is lethally calm. “Say one more goddamn word about her and you’re dead.”

“Put that gun down, Parker!”

Tony. Shit.

Peter squared his jaw, never taking his eyes off of Rumlow. About six off-duty policemen and the venue’s guards have their weapons trained on Peter.

“I said put the gun down! Now!” Tony had pushed his way through the crowd, Sam and Steve right behind him. You didn’t notice until now how quiet the room became, everyone holding in a collective breath.

“Put it down, son,” Steve gently ordered. He spied Rumlow’s men, their hands tightened on their guns, and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Peter didn’t move a muscle. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath.

Sam, holding a pair of cuffs in his hand, tried getting through to him. “It’s over. Drop the gun, kid.”

A slow grin spread across Rumlow’s face.

“Peter,” you spoke softly.

His red-rimmed eyes met yours.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Just put the gun down, okay? Please.”

Two heartbeats passed before his grip on the gun slackened, and he begrudgingly lowered his arm.

Steve and Sam seized on the opportunity. Steve disarmed Peter while Sam restrained Peter’s arms behind his back and tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

Rumlow massaged his injured jaw. “Guess that means I win, Parker.”

Sam yanked Peter back before he could charge at Rumlow. When Peter looked your way, he saw you still held his cards. “I’m still in play.”

“Wait,” you protested. Sam began to guide Peter up to the entrance. “Peter, I can’t—”

He nodded his head furiously, talking over his shoulder as Sam lead him away. “Yes, you can. You know you can, baby. Play the hand.”

You stared helplessly at Peter’s retreating form. It was all on you.

Rumlow watched, unperturbed; his cards still held tight in the hand that wasn’t nursing his jaw.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down into Peter’s chair, sitting directly across from Rumlow’s smirking face. Tony stared at you incredulously. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. The room’s chatter never recovered, either. All eyes stay glued towards the standoff.

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 10: One of those long-sleeved dresses

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: The pressure is on now that the government is negotiating with Escobar. The team decides to take the edge off, but when it comes to it, Javier can’t keep calm.

Warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, nudity, mentions of pregnancy symptoms, alcohol

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A/n: Hello sweethearts! My sincere apologies for going MIA, I had a really rough week with tonnes of deadlines, but accept this 6k plus chapter! Let me know what you think. Lots of love!

“He did what now?”, Connie questioned, brow quirked in amusement as she sipped on her wine.

You cackled along with her, fingers playing with the stem of a wine glass, which was filled with orange juice. “I’m serious, he’s surrendering his key this weekend!”

“Well would you look at that, Javier Peña settling down huh?”, she smiled, clinking her glass to yours, “I don’t know how, but you did it.”

“I’ll cheers to that, sister”, you gloated, the smile on your face just getting bigger and bigger as the night went on.

The boys were out together, leaving you and Connie alone with the baby. Olivia had been sound asleep for about an hour now and as soon as that baby monitor didn’t detect any fussy noises, it was go-time. How she got the drinks out that fast, you hadn’t a clue, but you weren’t complaining when she got out the chips as well. Seeing how you were back to work and she had a kid to take care of, you hadn’t seen one another a lot this week, but tonight you were just hanging out, catching up.

“How’s the clinic been?”

She sighed, letting her head fall back on the couch. “Sometimes I wish you would just quit and join me already. I swear they only speak in Spanish to spite me.”

You huffed out a laugh, only laughing harder as the two of you locked eyes. It was one of those moments that didn’t make sense, but was hilarious nonetheless. You clutched your stomach as a cramp threatened to come up. “Okay – okay, stop, stop, stop”, you yelped, struggling to catch your breath as you kept laughing.

Connie was wheezing at this point, doubling over as well, the rest of her red wine spilling into your lap. “Aha – shit that hurts”, she gasped, rubbing at her cheeks as they cramped up.

You took a few deep breaths, finally having stopped giggling away. In one swift motion you took the fragile glass from her hands. “Alright, alright, Murphy, you’re too drunk to keep this going.”

“Oh come oooon, it’s my house, I call last round!”, she whined, reaching for the bottle on the coffee table.

You jerked it away just in time, holding it over your head as she groaned and rolled her eyes. “Connie, I’m serious, you have a baby to take care of tomorrow, go get ready for bed.”

She pouted, dragging herself up off the couch as she slumped towards the bathroom. “You’re no fuuuun.”

Shaking your head, you walked over to the kitchen, rinsing the glasses and putting the half-empty bottle in the fridge while your friend attended to her business in the small bathroom. It was a little past midnight now, just about time for the guys to come back too, in fact they were a little late already. The three of you still had work in the morning, considering it was a Thursday night, but no-one other than you seemed to give it much thought.

Some stumbling in the general direction of the two backrooms caught your attention, drying your hands before hurrying your way over to the bathroom. Only there wasn’t anyone there. You peeked into the bedroom, seeing your friend sprawled out on top of the duvet, still fully dressed. Her husband could take care of that. She’d knocked the alarm clock over, successfully unplugging it from the wall in the process. You picked it up, putting it back into place before heading back into the kitchen. Being the good friend that you were, you filled up a glass of water and along with an aspirin, put it on her nightstand. She’d thank you in the morning.

Once back in the living room, you cleaned up the messes, stowing away the snacks in the cupboard and washing the dirty dishes in the sink. By the time you were putting everything back into its spot, clock striking past one, the door swung open. They were mid-conversation, Steve way too loud for your liking, drunk out of his mind. Well, they were married after all – you thought, thinking back of your passed out friend.

Javier seemed fine, supporting Steve as he guided him onto the couch, shooting you an annoyed glare halfway through. You rested a hand on your lower back, trying to ease the pain as you just watched the two of them, Steve’s hand grabbing towards you.

“She’s maaaad”, he noted, giving Javier a look.

You bit back a chuckle, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, instead just motioning towards the door. The other man understood, slowly nodding before throwing a balled-up blanket at his partner. “See you at the office, Murphy.”

He grabbed your coat off the hanger, opening the door as he waited for you. You pecked his cheek in passing, taking the coat from him as you put it on, the coldness in the hallway already making you shiver. “M’sorry hermosa”, he sighed slinging a warm arm around you.

“How much did you have?”, you asked, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked down to the lobby.

“About three, I’m good to drive”, he replied, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head.

 It was a difficult night, having to run to the bathroom every other half hour as either your bladder or stomach pestered you. Javier was sleeping soundly, his whiskey tending to have that effect. You’d hit him over the head if you didn’t love him as much as you did. The acid reflux was killing you, no matter how upright you sat. You were never touching orange juice again, you vowed, fuck that.

Javier woke up to you sitting up against the headboard, neck at an awkward angle as you softly snored. It was then he noticed the bucket by the bedside, empty, but still there as a precaution. He’d let you sleep a little longer, off to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast while he woke up fully. As he flipped his omelette you shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes as you stubbed your right into the couch.

“Motherfucker”, you exclaimed, pursing your lips in pain.

He grinned from his spot in the kitchen, winking as you flipped him an early morning bird. “Sit down before you break a leg.”

You plopped down on the chair, cradling your head in your hands out of sheer misery. You were exhausted and had an excruciating pain in your neck and back, not to mention how raw your throat felt, the acid reflux having left its mark. “Would you mind grabbing a coffee at work? I-I don’t feel particularly well.”

He put two plates on the table, sitting down next to you, resting a hand on your upper back. “Should’ve woken me up”, he mumbled, keeping hand there as he started digging in.

“Wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway. Thank you for cooking”, you smiled, starting on your own plate.

The rest of the morning was slow, Javier proving to be very helpful as he rinsed your hair for you. There was nothing sexual about it, just simply wanting to ease things for you. You’d been okay for most of the week, morning sickness seemingly gone, but last night’s shenanigans got you good. On top of that your jeans didn’t button, stomach starting to protrude a bit more in your ninth week. Whether it was the exhaustion, annoyance or a culmination of everything at this point, you didn’t know, but you broke down into tears.

“Corazón?”, he asked, barging into the room, cupping your face in both hands. “What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I-I don’t know really, just my jeans don’t fit and – and”, you couldn’t speak anymore, just crying it out, keening into his touch as his thumbs swiped the salty tears away.

He let go with one hand, bringing it down to the denim, softly inching it down your legs. “Weather’s nice enough today, why don’t you wear one of those long-sleeved dresses? Casual Friday was still a thing last time I checked.”

You huffed out a breathy laugh, hiding your face in the safety of his shoulder. “God Javi, I’m such a mess. Are you sure you wanna move in with this?”, you asked half-joking.

“Stop that”, he groaned, lifting your chin to tangle his lips with yours. “You are the most gorgeous, smart, funny, beautiful, passionate and sexy woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now put on that cute dress or I will throw you onto that bed and make sure you know just how riled up you get me.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling as you did so, stepping out of your jeans before tiptoeing over to your wardrobe. He watched you as you slipped on the dress, fishing a pair of tights from your bottom drawer. You sat on the edge of the bed, rolling up the tights before slipping a first leg onto your foot, carefully hoisting them up, being mindful not to rip them with your longer nails.

In a passing motion, Javier vowed to rip them off of you later that same day.

 In preparation of new measures, you had to sit through another couple meetings and to say they were boring, would’ve been an understatement. You and Javier sat close to one another, Steve sat on the chair between the two of you. He’d noticed you were struggling to keep up, eyes drooping as the search block just went on and on. After about an hour, a break was announced, which was much-needed. Everyone got up as you remained seated, not entirely sure of what was happening, attention span completely missing.

Steve got up as well, leaving the room to fetch some caffeinated drinks for the three of you. But Javi stayed put, scooting closer as he cautiously touched your arm. “Hey, what’s going on?”, he hovered, spinning your chair around to face him.

You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a loud yawn. “’M just sleepy.”

“I know baby, couple more hours. Why don’t you take the couch in the office during lunch?”, he suggested, leaning back in his own chair.

“Hmm, wouldn’t be fair to the two of you, really”, you sighed, standing up to stretch your legs.

He stood as well, bringing you in closer to capture your lips in short-lived kiss. “Go walk around the office for a bit, it’ll wake you up. Steve’s bringing you some of that tea.”

“Thank you Javi, you’re a hero”, you praised, dragging him down for another kiss. “Be back in ten.”

You meandered your way into the restrooms, finishing up at the sink, dunking your tingling hands under the cold water. Once dry you put your cold hands up against your neck, hoping that the temperature shock would help you out of your drowsy state. It did to a certain extent, the icy cold feel of your fingers on your warm skin making you shiver a bit.

Fuck – you craved that sweet kickstart of coffee, but even just passing by the small kitchenette, the odour was too pungent, nearly making you wretch. You nose scrunched up in revulsion, you quickened your pace, hoping to get away before any nausea could settle in. It was then you felt the familiar hot liquid tickling down your chest, letting out a yelp as it scorched your tender skin.

“Shit – are you alright ma’am?”, an unfamiliar voice sounded.

You peeled the fabric of your dress away from you, to relieve some of the heat. “That’s gonna stain”, you joked, trying to divert your attention from the burn on your skin.

“At least it’s a memorable introduction”, he chuckled, dipping his head into the kitchenette to grab a hold of the tissue box. “Stechner, Bill, I’m CIA.”

You pulled a set of tissues from the box, stuffing these between your body and dress, trying to alleviate the two, creating somewhat of a barrier. As you dabbed away you told him your name, which resulted in a raised brow. “Am I wanted or something?”, you quipped, trying to rub some of the stains out of the fabric.

“You’re partnered with Murphy and Peña, are you not?”

“That I am, speaking of which, I have a briefing to rush to”, you laughed awkwardly, the look he was giving you nothing short of unnerving.

He gave you a smirk. “I do hope we run into one another again, ma’am.”

You shivered at the comment, hastily making your way back to the conference room. They’d already picked up again, conversation in full-swing as you cracked the door open, wordlessly retaking your seat. You got some looks, no doubt because of the huge stain on your front and wide-eyes.

You certainly didn’t feel sleepy anymore. The feeling now overtaken by one of discomfort and unease as your clothes clung to you, the tissues already soaked through. Steve handed you a cup of green tea, face contorting in confusion. You made a gesture of dismissal, it clearly not being the place and time for an explanation. But the meeting was cut short as Noonan was whisked away by her assistant, clearly a matter of urgency, if not emergency.

The two men directed their attention in your direction, tilting their heads almost synchronically. “Who the fuck is Stechner and why does he hate both of you”, you demanded, clearly not amused.

“Stechner? Oh that’s all Javi. Ya see, your sweet menace of a boyfriend has had some communistic tendencies in the past”, the blonde taunted.

“Murphy. Watch your mouth”, Javier warned, throwing his friend a death-glare.

Your mouth fell open in shock and something along the lines of amusement. “You slept with a communist?”

Steve and you shared a glance, both sputtering out a string of laughter as Javier just sat there, looking up at the ceiling. “That was years ago. Now cut your bullshit, both of you. Stechner’s just an entitled asshole.”

The two of you calmed down, catching your breath as Javier grew steadily more annoyed, giving you an angry glare. “Oh come on, at least let me laugh about your hook-ups!”

Murphy clapped Javi on his back, mumbling about getting back to work as he exited the room, leaving the two of you alone once again.

“Is that why you wanna get out of that apartment, get rid of the evidence?”, you continued mocking him.

He took a few strides towards you, placing a hand on the wall beside you, towering over you. With the proximity you could feel the soft tickle of his huffs on your lips as you stared up at him. “I’m warning you, hermosa, you don’t want to go there.”

Something about his tone made it difficult for you to determine whether he was being genuine or not. For fear of aggravating him, you decided to shut up and not press on it anymore. “Lo siento cielo”, you croaked out suddenly feeling very self-aware as he brought up his other hand to rest on the opposite side of your face.

He looked you over, gaze lingering on your dress. “Mi corazón, ¿te hizo daño?“ (My heart, did he hurt you?)

Words didn’t come to you, mind overtaken by his cologne and frankly how tempting his lips looked right about now. He cleared his throat, making your eyes dart upwards. “Yeah, yeah – I mean no! No! I’m fine.”

His lips were slightly parted as he indulged in the desperate look you gave him, fingertips softly stroking your neck. “Should probably change out of that dress”, he muttered, lips ghosting over yours, “unless you need some help.”

You couldn’t help yourself as you threw yourself against him, lips painfully colliding with his in a bruising kiss. His hands found themselves on your hips, drifting towards the curve of your behind. “If you don’t stop now we’re gonna get in a lot of trouble”, you cautioned, supressing a moan as his fingers squeezed your ass.

“Cierto.. pero quítate ese vestido, estás empapada”, he groans, slipping his hands under the skirt. (True.. but you need to take that dress off, it’s soaking wet.)

You nodded fervently, pushing your hips into his, panting: “Supply closet, spare t-shirts.”

With your hand held in his, he hauled you towards said closet, making sure to be quick, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. It had to be a quickie, unless you wanted the whole office to know. So you hastily slipped the dress over your head and Javi ripped your tights down, leaving a run or four in your hose. He forcefully shoved his trousers down his hips, taking himself out of his boxers.

You sat on top of some plastic bins filled with spare supplies, legs spread as he moved to stand in between them. There was no time to be gentle, only to take the edge off. He had to lean over a bit, notching himself at your entrance before slowly pushing, bottoming out. You let out a breathy whimper, which resulted in one of his palms clasping over your mouth. His strokes grew more and more aggressive, the need to be closer to you spurring him on even more. The muffled noises you made were enticing to him, almost as if you were begging him to keep going, show you just who was to be in charge. And so he did. His pace was on the verge of brutal as he drilled into you, the metal racks behind you squeaking and rocking along in rhythm with his tempo. When you head tipped backwards and your eyes closed he knew you were close. He moved his hand to replace it with his mouth, swallowing down the sweet, filthy sounds as you hit your peak, closing your legs around him, locking him into place as he came. His lips left yours with an audible sigh, his forehead resting on your collarbone as he caught his breath.

The two of you cleaned up in the small space, stealing kisses left and right. With every sweep of his calloused fingers across your bare thighs you felt your heart flutter. But eventually, after he found you a pair of joggers that wouldn’t fall off and a t-shirt that wouldn’t be too tight you got dressed.

“How’s it look? Everything you ever hoped for?”, you joked, showing of the baggy, nonchalant outfit.

He pulled you flush against his chest, smirking before embracing you. “Muy hermosa, corazón. You head out first, I’ll bring some lunch.”

With one last peck you left the closet, trying to act as normal as possible with your ripped tights and stained dress under your arm. The post-coital lethargy mixed in with the lack of sleep soon had you struggling to stay awake again. As soon as you plopped down in your rigid desk chair you felt the familiar heaviness settle in your limbs.

“Am I really that boring?”, Steve quipped, not looking up from whatever he was reading.

You straightened up a bit, rolling your shoulders. “Sorry Murph, didn’t really sleep last night.”

“I noticed you looking a little green earlier. Take the couch, I’ll move the boxes so you can lay down”, he offered, already getting up out of his chair.

“It’s okay really, I’ll just get another cup of tea”, you ushered, knowing fully well you were expected to type a whole report by the end of the day based off of someone else’s notes.

Steve walked over to your desk, snatching the notepad out of your hands. “You’re pregnant for God’s sake, go lay down or I’ll have Noonan send you home.”

After some more bickering you’d agreed to switch tasks and that you would be reading up on previous reports and strategy proposals while he’d type the report for you. But after barely three pages your eyes just shut on their own. When Javier came back about twenty minutes later, the folder, still clutched in your hands, laid on your chest, softly rising and falling. He nodded towards his partner, gesturing for him to come grab his lunch. Meanwhile Javier sat down on the end of your couch where your feet laid, carefully placing them in his lap.

“What the fuck do you do to her?”, Steve asked jokingly.

Javier took his lunch out of the plastic bag, replying without looking up: “I dick her down.” Later he added a quiet: “like you’re supposed to.”

When by the end of lunchbreak you were still out, Javier decided to stay put. With your legs resting in his lap he grabbed a hold of the folder on your chest, starting to intently read it. It was in that moment that Steve pulled the old polaroid camera from the bottom drawer, snapping a sneaky picture as the two of you just sat there, somehow entangled with one another wherever you were.

He put the picture in his top drawer, not wanting to interrupt your little moment as Javier rubbed small circles on your ankle, sunken in thought. Today would be the deciding day, and everyone was anxiously awaiting the government’s next move. Though they all knew in the back of their heads, that no matter the decision, it wouldn’t change shit.

It was just a little past one when the news got delivered, some fellow agent sticking their head in to tell them: Escobar’s deal was accepted. La Catedral would become a reality. Javier flung the files onto the ground, tipping his head back as he heaved a disappointed sigh. All those years of chasing, murder and devastating guilt just for Escobar to get away once again.

Steve took note of his partner’s annoyance and never related more. “We’ll get him eventually. For now, we take out the smaller guys. He might’ve won this one, but the fight ain’t over yet Peña.”

Javier rubbed his chin, the other hand still resting on your ankles as he tried to keep his cool. He just couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d done, seeing the faces of those damn informants flash before his eyes with every blink. The shots he’d fired rang in his ears, making him gnash his teeth. His fingers wrapped around your leg in a bruising grip, only getting more and more forceful. You jolted awake, drawing for a weapon on your belt that wasn’t there, panting as you locked eyes with him. He promptly released his hold of your leg, instead moving to take a hold of your shoulders, steadying you.

“What happened?”, you asked, the scattered papers on the ground enough of an indication for you to know that there was something off.

His lips were pursed together in a thin line, eyes avoiding yours as you got up off the couch. “They agreed”, Steve explained.

Your mouth hung open a bit as you looked at your friend, crossing your arms in front of you as you gave an exasperated huff. “Of course they fucking did.”

 The two of you went home early that day, the car ride uncomfortably silent. You’d noticed the sheer rage and resentment in the way he walked. Without a word you’d taken the keys from him, climbing into the driver’s seat. He looked out of the window the entire time, not bothering to look at the road, or you for that matter. Whatever was happening in that brain of his had a vice grip on him and you weren’t sure if he’d let you help him out.

“Do you want to get some take-out?”

He whipped his head around to face you, noting the way your fingers flexed against the leather of the steering wheel. “What now?”

“F-for dinner. Do you want take-out?”, you stuttered, feeling small under his burning gaze.

A muttered “whatever” was all you were given, his eyes once again trained on the world outside of his window.

Not wanting to elongate the duration of the drive any more, you decided against it, knowing that you had some things left in the fridge. The walk up to your apartment was equally awkward and tense. But when his key didn’t immediately turn in the lock and he banged a fist against the wall, you knew what kind of a night it would be. You gently took the piece of metal from his hand, calmly unlocking the door before letting him in.

“Javi, baby, why don’t you grab a shower while I get dinner started?”, you suggested, setting down your bag by the door.

He kicked his shoes off, humming an agreement before shuffling off towards the bed- and bathroom. When you heard the shower turn on, you felt like you could finally breathe again. You’d seen him angry before, especially when dealing with sicarios first hand, but here, in private – in the comfort of the apartment, it was somewhat unsettling. You got out of the cupboards what you needed, and started washing some veggies while turning the tv on.

When he emerged from the bedroom, loose t-shirt and jeans, damp hair, you gave him a small smile. He pressed a quick kiss to your temple on his way to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer. “You smell nice”, you cooed, stepping closer to him as you reached for the glass of water.

“You’d hope so after using all of that bodywash bullshit”, he grumped.

“I’ve been reading up on those pamphlets the doctor gave me”, you started, turning your head towards him, “and it says the baby is about the size of cherry now.”

He gave you a look, shrugging his shoulders before walking off with his plate. “Not really in the mood for baby-talk.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Anything you’d like to talk about?”, you tried, sitting down on the chair across from his.

He shoved a large bite into his mouth, hunching over a bit. “Nothing.”

You stopped trying after that, just finished your plate and got started on the dishes. Javier brought you his plate and went to have a seat on the couch. You rolled your eyes, scoffing softly, clearly not amused with his antics. I he wanted to be like this about it, then you weren’t going to stick around for it. So when all of the dishes were put away, you headed towards the bedroom, not bothering to talk to him.

Stepping into the bathroom, you locked the door, putting his soaked towels in the hamper. As you cleaned up the water on the floor, you ran a bath, desperately wanting to assuage your aching spine. You wanted to talk to him about, but knew better. If he wanted to talk he’d come to you about it – right? Or was he pulling some reverse psychology shenanigans, really just wanting you to talk to him? Your head was spinning by the time you lowered yourself into the warm water, a pleasurable whine leaving your lips at the contact.

Once the water got cold you got out, wrapping yourself in the fluffy towels you laid out before slipping into some softer pyjamas. You got ready for bed, seeing how you were still exhausted and treated yourself to the “nice-smelling-expensive lotion” for once. By the time you stepped into the bedroom again, door still slightly ajar, Javier was still in the living room. Seeing how it was not even seven yet, you concluded that it would be too early to go to bed and that you could catch up on some housework first. So you emptied the hamper and headed into the kitchen, basket under your arm, trying to get to the laundry room.

Javier looked up from where he laid on the couch. He was on his fifth beer by now, but craved something stronger. He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, his need for relief overwhelming at that point. His fingers trembled as he went to light it, closing his eyes in relief as the nicotine hit the back of his throat.

You shut the washer’s door, punching in the right controls before heading back into the kitchen. As you walked into the living space again, you noticed the plumes of smoke trickling upwards. With your hands on your hips you cleared your throat, successfully capturing his attention. “Thought we had an agreement on those?”

“It’s just one”, he groaned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Take it outside then, you have a damn sunroof, balcony and shared terrace, plenty of options”, you tutted, not putting up with his attitude.

He turned around to look at you, raising a brow at you. “Will you stop bitching already? It’s just a cigarette.”

“In case you forgot, pendejo, I’m still pregnant”, you retorted, marching over to grab a hold of the pack.

He stood up, burning cigarette pursed between his lips. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You yanked the balcony door open, throwing the pack over the railing. “You want your precious smokes, well go fucking get them.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”, he sneered, stepping out onto the balcony.

“I think it’s better if you go home tonight”, you said in a hushed tone.

He gave you an offended look, the smoke lingering in his breath as it fanned across your face. “Over a cigarette?”

“If you don’t want to open up to me then I can’t help you”, you explained, turning away from him.

His form towered over you as he stepped closer, chests nearly touching, a stern hand on your elbow. “Open up to you? And when exactly were you ever open with me? Because last time I checked I’m not the one signing a settlement because it’s convenient.”

“Let go of me”, you ordered, glaring into his eyes.

“You’re being unreasonable”, he pressed, grip on your arm tightening.

You tried to wiggle out, whining at the intensity of his grasp. “You’re scaring me Javier, let go”, you pleaded, voice shakier than before.

“You’re gonna listen first. You’ve been down here for two years and that’s barely anything. Compared to Murphy, to me, you’ve had it easy. Let me catch you up to speed, you haven’t killed anyone, you haven’t washed someone else’s blood off of your hands. You haven’t lost anything or anyone here. You, little miss perfect, have nothing to whine about. So when your boyfriend comes home after a rough day, let him have a drink and cigarette and maybe offer to suck him off.”

Tears had started forming in your eyes. This wasn’t the Javi you knew, even at his worst, this wasn’t the agent you were familiar with. It reminded you of that night where he showed up at your apartment, before he knew you were pregnant, when he fucked you and left. It made you feel sick.

“Who are you?”, you spat, untangling yourself from him. “I’m here for you every day, loving you, hoping to make you happy and this is what I get from you?” He didn’t say anything to that, just faced away from you. “If that is how you want things to be, then you need to leave.” Your voice started faltering, the emotion taking over. “I’ll be in my bedroom, if you want to talk whatever this out, then I suggest you join me and think about what the hell you need to say very carefully.”

His head hung low as you disappeared into the apartment, the sound of your muffled sobs stinging in his chest. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that harsh or condescending. He knew perfectly well what you had been going through both in and out of the field. Truth is, he was completely out of line and felt like a complete dick. It was a defence mechanism he had yet to get rid of. Javier wasn’t used to somebody helping him just because, that’s not the way things went here in Bogotá. There was always a catch, always something, whether it was money, power or information, there was always something.

You were his girlfriend, he knew that, he just wasn’t used to it yet. You telling him to leave the apartment – your apartment at that had angered him even more and made his reaction all the worse. He tried to take those vital deep breaths, trying to figure out a way to make it up to you. He remembered you complaining that your favourite ice cream flavour was always out in the store. So he got inside, put on his jacket and shoes and headed for the shops.

When you heard the door close, you cried into your pillow. It felt like a middle finger to the face and for a moment you thought that this could be it. This could be the time that he realised he wasn’t up for this. The following twenty minutes were the most painful ones yet. You thought you were hallucinating when the door cracked open again, shuffling out of your bedroom to see Javier standing in the doorway, plastic bag in hand.

“I – I uh, I went to get some stuff, so we can talk”, he stumbled, toeing his shoes off.

You cracked a small smile at him, beckoning for him to sit down on the couch with you. He grabbed some spoons from the kitchen before joining you. As he sat down you grabbed the tub of ice cream from the bag, eyes going wide. “Oh my God, how did you-“

“I asked them to set some aside last time we went”, he confessed, cracking the lid off for you. “Seemed like a good truce.”

You sunk the first spoon into your mouth, eyes rolling back as you moaned at the taste. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

He chuckled at the sight of you devouring the creamy goods, carefully scooting a bit closer. When you didn’t try to get away he slid an arm around you, pulling you against his chest. “Lo siento por lo de esta tarde. That was way out of line, I shouldn’t have said any of that.” (I’m sorry about earlier.)

“Shut up and try this ice cream, we’ll talk after”, you tutted, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

The two of you ate the entire tub together, often interrupting the spoon shoving for a sweet, lingering kiss. By the time the tub was empty your legs were draped over his, head resting on one of his collarbones. He was just looking at you, tenderly caressing your cheek.

“I’ve done a lot of heinous shit just to get to Escobar.. so what happened today, it just set me off. It really shouldn’t have, I try not to let it come through when I’m with you but I slipped up.” You didn’t speak or interrupt, just let him say his piece while your softly scratched at his scalp. “I slept with those informants to get crucial information, intel that helped us a long way. But I also just slept with them to get everything out of my system. And then there was you and a month after we slept together I stopped seeing the other girls, even when they’d show up at my door. But there was this girl, a sweet girl really, that was so desperate to get out of here.. it didn’t end well and I couldn’t fucking protect her.”

“Javi, baby, look at me”, you cooed, shifting to straddle his lap. “That girl did what she thought was right, she wanted to escape. It’s not your fault, you did everything you could for her.”

He rested his head against your sternum, wrapping his arms around you to have you just that tad bit closer. “I’ve killed so many people, I’ve done so much fucked up shit.”

“Javier, you’re so much more than that. I adore you, I know you’re a good man. Good people do bad things, it’s the way things go around here. That day out in the small district, you nagging about my vest? You saved my life. And what we’ve got going on, us and this baby, it’s a good thing, something you deserve, Javier.”

He pressed a kiss to the left side of your chest, close to your heart. “You’re the one thing keeping me sane.”

“I try my best”, you chuckled.

“Stop being so amazing, I can’t take it”, he joked, kissing his way up your neck.

You grabbed a hold of his face, having him look up at you. “Javier Peña, I’m in love with you and all your quirks. But if you smoke one more cigarette in this here apartment, I will kick you out.”

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem

[americasmarauders]

Wasteland, baby!-- Ben Hargreeves (part 1).

author’s note: hello hello. after weeks of writing here it is: my masterpiece. to be complete honest, this might actually be one of the best pieces of writings I have ever produced. ever. 

words: 2759

masterlist

part 2

part 3

part 4

summary: that girl on the bus stop seemed so lonely and Ben couldn’t help himself really. So, he snuck out and became her friend.

He was having a hard time sleeping. It usually happened after a mission. Ben was haunted by the monsters he unleashed, and the faces of those he attacked. He hardly could sleep after using his powers. He silently thanked that Father had stopped monitoring their sleep after Five disappeared.

           He sat on his bed, his back resting against the wall, his feet dangling. He looked out the window, the sun was barely up and the streets were quiet. Usually, he was always the first one to wake up out of his siblings—the morning light peaked right on his face. He would wait until the dreaded knock on his door, a sign that they were to face the horror they called Father.

           Usually, Ben would sit watching the streets, quietly wondering and admiring the normalcy of it. There wasn’t anything to watch, a couple of cars passing, the tiny garden one of the residents of the building in front tended to, a bus stop that half disappeared on the corner of the sidewalk.

           However, today, something got hold of his attention. A girl, standing quietly near the bus stop, just enough so Ben could see her clearly. She had a clear umbrella dangling off her backpack. She wore jeans and a white t-shirt with a print he couldn’t quite discern. She looked about his age, but it wasn’t that what intrigued him,

           She looked so lonely. She had a lost look in her eyes. She kept glancing up and down the streets, her face morphing into something sadder each time she saw no one was coming.

           His heart beat faster and faster. How come? She looked so kind and sweet. How could someone leave her alone?

           He shuffled on his bed, his face this close to the glass window, clinging to her image. Ben watched her with curiosity. She was a new figure in his life, his so controlled and planned life.

           He didn’t know how long he stayed there looking at her, but he heard the dreadful knock on the door. It must have been long.

           “I’m coming,” he answered to it.

           When he looked back to where the girl was standing, she was gone.

#

#

Ben woke up earlier the next days. Earlier than he usually did. He spent the entire week looking at her. She stayed at the same place for a while before she walked off to the end of the street, he guessed to the school at the end of it. She always looked lonely, she always was looking for something or someone to accompany her.

          He changed out of his pajamas quickly. He was tying his tie when he turned to the window, one knee on the bed, seeing if she was outside. He finished his tie and pulled the sweater on top of it, opting against using his blazer.

          Ben glanced one last time out the window. The sky rumbled. He sighed, as he looked up to the sky, little droplets of water fell. He put his shoes on and quietly left his room. He avoided all the spots in the corridor where the wood would creak under his feet. He hoped Pogo was nowhere near the entrance.

          He descended the stairs quietly, his heart beating rapidly and strongly. Ben had never done something so sneakily and so exciting in his life. Sure, he had once messed with Allison’s teddy bear and a string of other practical harmless pranks, but this felt different and more criminal than those childish plays.

          As he stood in front of the door, his hand gripping an umbrella tightly. His other hand hovered over the handle hesitating. He closed his eyes and, in a rush, he opened the door and stepped outside. He opened his eyes as he felt drops of water hit his shoulders and hair. He smiled and closed the door.

          With the umbrella opened, he crossed the streets in long strides, laughing at the thrill of defying orders. He could see her, standing under her clear umbrella looking down at her phone—a luxury he wished he could have. Just as always, she looked a tiny bit sad.

          He slowed down his pace, still smiling. He quietly approached her. She sensed him coming her way and looked up right at him. Ben wasn’t counting on how beautiful she looked up close, he had seen her only from afar. He faltered for a split second shocked, but quickly recomposed. He stood next to her, his smile still very much present.

          “Hi,” she said quietly.

          “Hey,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry,” he laughed nervously, “it must be weird. I mean, you’ve never seen me. I—” he cleared his throat, “I noticed you looked quite lonely and I thought I’d stay with you.”

          She smiled. “Okay,” she said quietly. “It’s not weird. I saw you looking last week.”

          “Oh,” Ben hadn’t seen her looking. “I didn’t know.”

          “It’s okay,” she responded. “Someone might have thought it was creepy, but,” she laughed and shook her head, “I somehow knew you didn’t mean any harm.”

          “That’s—” he swallowed nervously, “good.”

          “I’m Y/N,” she said and his heart stopped for a second at how beautiful and fitting it was.

          He smiled at her. “I’m Ben.”

          Lightning stroke and she yelped slightly. Both giggled at her scare. Both knew it was the start of something magical.

#

#

It became a routine. A routine he maintained for the better part of 2 months.

           Ben would wake up earlier—they started to meet earlier and earlier, craving for more time together as they became closer—jump out of bed, and fly out the door (he started climbing out the window when he had a near encounter with Pogo one morning). He would stay with her until she had to leave for school. With that he would climb to his room and put on his blazer. Sure, he would come to breakfast a few minutes later, but it was all worth it. She was worth every second of the few minutes they spent together.

           He discovered a lot of things about her. She lived a couple of blocks away and she went to school just down the street. She was a year younger than him and she wanted to be a scientist after school. She read a lot, mostly contemporary books, but there were some classics that she absolutely loved like Peter Pan and To Kill a Mockingbird.

           Some would argue she was absolutely, positively ordinary. To Ben, that was what made her extraordinary. He was surrounded by things he couldn’t really explain, that most couldn’t even begin to wrap their heads around it. His whole existence was one of mystery and, quite frankly, horror.

           Y/N was the opposite. She was normal. No powers, no buying kids to experiment on them. She had both parents, normal balanced adults who loved her very much. She was an only child, no crazy siblings for her. She went to school and learned normal things, she didn’t learn a thousand different languages and advanced calculus or whatever. She said she didn’t have many friends, but he was her friend. He believed he was her friend because she was his only friend.

           It was a sunny day, hot, nearing the end of the school year to her. Ben was sweating in his button up, and she adorned a sundress. Some would say it was behaved, playing it safe, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. To Ben, it was perfect. She glowed. Her hair was down and she clutched her backpack tightly, the clear umbrella always hanging off of it.

           They chatted lightly. As they talked, Ben lost track of time. She was supposed to be heading to school and he was supposed to be on his way down the stairs as the breakfast hour neared. His eyes drifted to the academy, his brother Klaus looking out his window with a smirk framing his face.

           “Shit!” Ben said, frantically looking down a watch he kept in his pocket.

           “What?” Y/N responded confused. “Is everything okay?”

           “We lost track of time,” Ben said looking up the window one more time, Klaus signaling to his wrist as if Ben was running out of time. Y/N’s eyes trailed to where Ben was looking. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of a boy at Ben’s window, absolutely amused at the situation. “We need to go.”

           “Yeah,” she breathed out, her eyes peeling off the window and settling on Ben. She smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

           “Yeah, yeah,” Ben shook his head, already halfway across the street in a rush. “See you!”

           Shit, shit, shit, shit, he muttered all the way up to his window in the second floor. As he got up there, Klaus helped him up the ledge, helping bring his brother into the room. He didn’t wipe the smirk off his face, as Ben frantically composed himself in the mirror, straightening his tie and fixing his hair. He picked up the blazer on top of his bed and put it on.  

           “You’re lucky it was me who caught you,” Klaus said amused.

           “Shut up, Klaus,” Ben muttered.

           “Wow, Benny boy, you wound me,” he said dramatically. “I guess you won’t mind then if I tell dear old dad that Number Six is sneaking out of the academy to flirt with girls,” he completed with annoying kissing noises.

           “Don’t tell Dad,” he gritted angrily. His eyes softened and he quietly begged, “Please, Klaus. She—,” he swallowed, “she has nothing to do with this. Don’t involve her.”

           Klaus wasn’t one to show softness: he hid it under a much dramatic persona, alcohol and drugs—not necessarily in that order. Ben was lucky his brother was sober that morning. “I won’t,” Klaus said. “But you have to more careful.”

           With that, Klaus was out the door. Ben exhaled deeply and muttered a small yeah before he was off to slay that morning’s demon.

#

#

Ben laid awake that night.

           He had spent the entire day on edge, hoping Klaus wouldn’t spill his biggest secret to everyone, especially their Father. Thankfully, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, and even when Klaus was higher than high that afternoon, he managed to keep his mouth shut—which was greatly appreciated by Ben.

           He started to reflect on every single conversation he and Y/N shared, his heart racing at the memories. It started with a simple glint in her eyes, and it escalated to Ben feeling like he couldn’t breathe right if he didn’t see her regularly.

           He hadn’t felt that way before, but he wasn’t exactly daft to the symptoms he was feeling. He had read enough novels to conclude he was either having panic attacks—which weren’t all too weird for him or his siblings to have—or he was in love. He quickly dismissed the first option. It wasn’t prompted, not like it usually is, and he couldn’t even imagine Y/N being a source of panic for him. Not when she felt like the only good thing in his life.

           The logical conclusion was love. But a part of Ben was reluctant to admit that. It wasn’t planned: he hadn’t planned on loving her, he just wanted a friend. It was too soon for it. They’d had only two months of friendship, something he held so close to his heart he didn’t tell anyone he had a friend outside the Academy. It was an accident—a slip, really—that Klaus had found out.

           That also prompted the elephant in the room: she didn’t really know who Ben was. She knew who he was, of course, he was Ben. He hadn’t lied and maintained his personality a secret in a weird catfishing way, no. She just didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know his surname, she didn’t know why he only wore white button ups, shorts and ties, she didn’t know why he had an umbrella tattoo at only 16 years old, she didn’t know he housed monsters inside of him.

           The worst part is: Ben chose to omit that part of him. He didn’t want her to befriend him for his powers or for who his siblings were, he wanted her to like him for him, just plain old Ben. He wanted to prove to himself he was more than a number—sadly, quite literally—that his whole world was a mere detail in the grand scheme of things, that he mattered outside of being a tool for world salvation.

           And she had helped him prove that. He knew that, now. He knew by the way her face would light up when she saw him cross the street, coming at her encounter. He saw by the way she would laugh at his sarcastic remarks on some random anecdote she was telling him about school. He saw at the way she would smile and listen attentively to what he was saying, even if it was the silliest thing to ever leave his lips. He knew he mattered to her. More than he could imagine, maybe. And, somehow, that was the world to him.

           Smiling, he shifted in his bed, laying on his side. He looked at his night stand, the book she lent him staring back at him. She said that when she read, it had reminded her of him. He could hear her saying that—the memory too fresh from the previous day—it sent butterflies to his stomach and his thought became all fuzzy.

           He hadn’t opened it yet. She said he was to open it. He felt bad for a second, he hadn’t had the time to do what she asked him to, but that thought quickly subsided with the memory of the exhaustion he felt after the training he had endured. If she knew, she would understand, right?

           Ben picked the book up sitting upright in his bed. The clock flashed a 9:37 pm in a sickly green. If he could read at least the first chapter of it, he would finish it in minutes, and it wouldn’t leave him too exhausted for tomorrow’s training and he could comment his thoughts with her.

           His fingers trailed lightly over the creases of the title. My Sweet Orange Tree, it read. He opened it and an envelope fell. He put the book aside and opened the envelope. He first took out a paper, folded in itself a couple of times. He then noticed there was another item inside of the envelope but opted to read the letter first. Ben turned the lamp beside his bed on and read.

           Dear Ben,

           I know you often choose to read intellectual books, your brain too smart to waste time on fickle fantasies. But I ask for you to waste time on this one. You’ll find that there’s more than meets the eye. Just like you, I suppose.

           There’s a moral to this story you’re about to read, one I hope we get to discuss more than the few spare minutes we have before I go to school and you have to do whatever mysterious things you refuse to tell me. I hope you find it fitting, just like I found it fitting for you and me.

           I know it seems early and even cowardly to say this through letter and not to your face, but Ben, my god, you mean so much to me, more than my brain can process. My heart surely can. I hope you know this.

           It sounds silly and old fashioned, but I put a photo of me in the envelope. So, you’d remember me if something were to happen, or just remember me in general. I didn’t mean to sound so pessimistic. Behind the photo there’s my telephone number: home and cellphone. If you ever manage to, perhaps we can call each other?

           After that sequence of random topics, I bid you farewell, my Ben. I hope to see you tomorrow.

             Love,

                       Y/N.

           He threw the letter aside, reaching for the envelope he had abandoned a few moments ago. He took the small picture out of it. Y/N was smiling at the camera, wearing that amazing sundress he loved, looking carefree. He smiled at the picture, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He flipped the picture, the numbers in black ink and her penmanship.

           He put the letter and the picture on his night stand, making a mental note to get a frame for her photo. Ben sighed happily and opened the book. Chapter one.

[stitch1830]

are you mad yet? 49 for taang pretty please with chocoalte and cherreis on top

#49 - Taang - “I’m too sober for this”

This one’s kind of dumb sorry lmao. If no one sees this, that would be quite alright with me lol.

......

“Oh fuck!”

That was the word of the day for Toph Beifong, rightly so. It wasn’t the first time going into labor, but that didn’t mean it was easier than the last time.

She paced around the room a million times, leaning onto Aang as they waited for the contractions to come and go, and she made sure to say the word of the say as loud and as often as she fucking wanted to.

“Fucking Spirits, Twinkletoes. I can’t believe I let you do this to me again,” she whined.

“It’s because you love that one move I do with my—”

“—Guys! Right here,” Katara interrupted while the two snickered. She sat in the room with Toph and Aang, monitoring the progress of the labor. Obviously, the master waterbender was ecstatic to help deliver her friend’s baby, but they were… an exhausting couple.

In the 6 hours she had already spent with Toph and Aang, the two teased and complained to each other relentlessly, so much so that Katara had no idea if they were serious or not. And because she was a new-ish victim to their remarks, she also received a fair deal of the comments.

“Relax, Sugar Queen, I would never let Aang reveal his secrets. They’re way too good to divulge.” she gave a tired smirk.

Katara sighed. At least Toph was in good spirits during all of it. She tried to reply with her own bit of sass, to give the couple a taste of their own medicine. “Thank you so much, Toph. Not sure I could handle hearing it.”

“Maybe Zuko and I could meet to discuss! Happy to show pointers to him,” Aang piped up in a teasing manner.

“Oooh you should. I would love to hear about Sugar Queen’s kink—fucking shit!” Toph braced herself on Aang’s forearms and waited until the contraction stopped.

Katara saw Aang holding back his own yelps of pain as Toph dug her nails into his arms (but he did so with a pained smile). Katara asked her friends, “Bad one, huh?”

Toph took a deep breath then replied sardonically, “Oh no, that was just peachy. Amazing. Hit me with more, please.”

“I guarantee you will be hit with more, T.”

Instead of yelling and screaming like Katara thought her friend would, Toph just laughed and punched Aang’s arm. “No one asked you, asshole.” Aang chuckled and led her to the bed to sit down. Toph let out a loud sigh before complaining. “Fucking Spirits, I’m too sober for this.”

Aang glanced up at Katara, and saw the most bewildered and annoyed face he ever saw her make. He couldn’t help but spit out a laugh, and Toph chuckled.

Her eyebrows furrowed deeper into a frown as she threw her arms up and exclaimed, “Toph! You’re in fucking labor! You better be sober!”

“You think you can sneak in a bottle of soju for me, Twinkles?” Toph asked, ignoring her friend’s outburst. “That would hit the spot right now.”

“Mmm, possibly. Would sake or whiskey work if they’re out?”

“Whiskey, definitely.”

“Maybe we should go for whiskey first, that’ll hit faster.”

“Good thinking. We want this baby to have taste.”

“Guys! Seriously?!” Katara complained. “This is really how you’re going to pass the time??”

Toph and Aang were beside themselves, cackling. Aang wiped away tears from his eyes then said, “Toph, I wish you could’ve seen Katara’s face! She’s ready to kill us.”

The earthbender was still in fits of laughter and leaned her forehead on Aang’s chest as she tried to steady her breathing. But every time they were close to calming down, a contraction or another round of laughing interrupted them.

Katara rolled her eyes and sulked back into her seat. “You guys are ridiculous. I can’t wait til this baby is here.”

“Makes three of us then,” Toph snarked. “You should be grateful, Katara! I could be throwing rocks at your head right now.”

“You’re going to throw them at my head at some point today, so no, I will not be thanking you. Your bedside manner is just going to get worse from here.”

Aang playfully shook his head at his friend. He pretended to be emotional and sniffed and wavered his voice, “You know us so well, Katara.”

The waterbender groaned while her friends laughed at her expense. This was going to be a long day.

......

Ask me to write based on a quote. I typically only write for Taang but can attempt Zutara and Sukka lol (just might not be good). 

[imastrangeone98]

Worship

(A/N: i had a loose dream about something like this happening, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here is my interpretation of that dream)

WARNING: DT smex, church smex, slight blasphemy kink; potential sacrilegious content

For some reason, I see dmc 1 dante for this, but I took dmc 4/5 style dt aesthetic

The Bible verses here are from the book of Song of Songs - but I edited them for flow purposes XD this book is basically old time erotica when I think about it- and to think that I was allowed to read this as a kid

Their appearance at the abandoned church in the ghost town of Impia was for the sole sake of research. According to Faith, the location of the dangerous holy weapon- the Arrectis Lux- could potentially be tracked within the crumbling walls of the old, musty building.

So there they were: a half-demon and a nephilim together in a dead establishment, with the radiant face of Jesus Christ smiling down at them from the multicolored window.

Something about it just made his inner demon itch to come out.

As she paged through an old book, Dante busied himself with checking his pistols, adjusting his new coat, tugging the collar of his new shirt, overall just avoiding looking at the way her ass perfectly filled out her jeans.

Mine, the voice whispered in his mind. She's mine.

His eyes lingered on the dusty, cracked cross on the ground, on Jesus' face in the glass.

And his lip curled.

Mine. Not yours.

Love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.

"Alright!" he heard her call from the small table at the side. "I think I've got it."

Giving her nothing more than a noise of acknowledgement, he silently slunk out of the pew he was sitting on and made his way towards her.

He was convinced that Jesus' eyes were following him.

Good.

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing light kisses to her sweet smelling skin.

She giggled. "That tickles. What are you up to?"

He didn't reply; he just kept sucking small love marks onto her neck.

She let out a soft hum. "You seem to be in quite a mood, today."

The warm sunlight continued to shine through the worn window of Jesus, washing everything in fractured colors- as if He was monitoring them.

For a dead God, He sure does love to watch, doesn't He? his demon cackled. Why don't we give Him a show?

His cock stirred in his pants. His body hummed with want.

"...Dante?" Faith sounded suspicious. "What are you...?"

"Nothing, angel." But the way he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the altar at the front of the room probably didn't help explain things.

"Why are you feeling so...!"

He quickly shushed her with a kiss to her lips, and sharply began to rut against her. "Baby..." he moaned, nuzzling into her hair. "I need you."

She sighed. "Again? After this morning?"

"It's different. We got an audience, this time." He gave her a wicked smile- and his eyes flickered with demonic energy.

Faith frowned. "What audience?"

"Him." He pointed straight above them, right at the stained window.

Her eyes widened. "...Oh."

"Yup."

"Then... shouldn't we stop?"

"Nah." His grin revealed a sharp canine, which he gleefully dragged over her pulse. He relished in the shiver that traveled down her spine. "I want Him to see."

He pressed his clothed cock right against her core, just near her covered entrance. The faint, delectable smell of arousal permeated the air, tainted the sunlight, electrified their blood.

"Indulge me?" Dante whispered, gazing deep into her golden eyes, their lips so close he could taste her breath.

You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes.

And to his delight, she yielded, leaning forward just enough to kiss him. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging hard at the silvery locks.

That's it, he thought, dazed with pleasure. Choose me.

She smiled at him when she pulled away. "Always."

Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.

His face was buried in her now exposed pussy, delving further and further into her delicious body, hungrily slurping up every last drop of slick he could wring out of her.

And she moaned, her voice dripping with honey, her hands working magic in his hair- pushing him down when he didn't worship her enough to her liking, or pulling him up so he could turn his full attention back to her.

As his tongue traced circles around her clit, he couldn't help but think darkly: He's too busy being dead to make you feel good like I do.

I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.

His heavy, naked body pinned her small one to the top of the altar, her legs helplessly spread as he sheathed himself, inch by excruciating inch, into her tight heat. Bottoming out, they moaned in unison- their voices filling the chamber.

An unholy holy union.

But then he began to thrust.

It was almost unbearable, how tight she was, how hot she was. Each push and pull of his cock inside her made him see stars. One of her legs had found purchase around his waist, making sure he pushed harder, hit deeper, gave her everything he had and then some.

His bare chest gleamed with sweat. Every vein in his body flowed with fire.

"He'd never love you like this," Dante grunted, angling his cock so it hit her sweet spot.

"N- no!" she wailed, clinging to his wrists. "No, He wouldn't!"

"He'd never fuck you like this!"

"No! Oh... only you! Only you!" Faith's beautiful eyes looked up at him with so much love and adoration; it made his knees weak.

It made his demon growl.

"That's right," he purred, tasting salt and lust on her tongue when he kissed her. "Only me."

"Yes!" Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her hips canted upwards just so, allowing him to sink in deeper inside her, letting the sweet rhythm of his hips pick up in tempo and heat.

Shit.

"Tell me who I am," he moaned into her ear, lacing his fingers with her own and fucking her with increasing ferocity. The squelch of their bodies meeting grew louder; he felt something wet splash against his abdomen.

"You're..." Her body jolted with the change of pace. A gasp forced itself out of her throat. "You're mine."

"And...?"

A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Dante's inner demon howled inside him, demanding to be released.

Just a little more. Just... a little... more!

She licked the curve of his jaw, gently biting into his soft skin. And like magic, she whispered to him just what he needed to hear.

"You're my demon."

A guttural snarl escaped his chest. His fingertips sharpened into pitch black claws. His stunning blue eyes shifted into blood red slits.

"That's right." He sneered, evil desire glinting on his fangs. "A demon."

In a brilliant flash of light, his body transformed: fire-red scales covered every inch of his skin, large wings unfurled and sent a blast of hot air around them, and his demon heart pulsed with gold light- the symbol of his bond with his mate.

But most importantly... his cock had changed as well. Larger and thicker; it made a bigger bulge in Faith's stomach that he couldn't look away from. With trembling hands, she pressed against it, making him grumble and give a sharp nip to her jaw. A warning.

"Mate..." the half-angel cooed, leaning up to stroke his leathery cheek. "My love."

"Not God?" he insisted, his voice sending tremors rushing through her shaking body.

"No," she gasped with a roll of her hips, allowing his ridged cock to delve further into her cunt. "You."

His eyes narrowed. "Good." Taking care to not pierce through her skin, Dante grabbed the back of her knees and practically folded her in half, before slowly rocking back and forth inside her.

Had it not been for his sheer stubbornness, he would have cum right then and there. The ridges on his dick rubbed perfectly against her walls, creating such delicious friction that it made them both drool. Her insides pulled him in deeper into its depths and clung to him, unwilling to release him when he pulled out, and greedy when he pushed back in.

...She was perfect. From her messy black hair that fanned around her head, to her beautiful body that took him so well: Faith was flawless.

Slick gushed out of her hole, leaking around his cock, and he couldn't resist the temptation to lean down and allow his long, forked tongue to lap up her juices. His chest rumbled as he savored her taste- sweeter than any fruit.

But it must have been too much, because soon, she began to wail. Her body glowed a soft gold, and runes began to float around her.

She was transforming.

Instantly, he leaned down and nipped at her neck, groaning at the slight burning sensation on his tongue.

His eyes, once again, latched onto the smiling face of Jesus.

"I'm your God," he growled out, tracing his claws over her glowing belly.

"Amen."

As he continued to pound away inside her wet hole, her wings emerged from behind, fluttering with the force of his thrusts. His own wings tilted downwards just slightly, until feathers met scales in a strange kiss.

He pressed against her, and their bodies hissed at the opposing synergy between them. Taking advantage of the position, he pushed right against her sweet spot, borderline abusing it with how forcefully he grinded against her, moving his hips in small circles to stimulate every sensitive button she had.

"Tell me you love me," he demanded, his fangs grazing the column of her throat.

"I love you!" she cried, clinging to him. The mating mark on her neck glowed a deep red. "I love only you!"

"Tell me you'll worship me!"

"With everything I am! Everything I have!"

"Everything you have?" he repeated, feeling his release rapidly approaching.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yesyesyes-"

"Then cum!" He pressed his fingers against her sensitive bundle and waited.

And Faith surrendered, giving the demon above her every last gasp, tremble, and moan of pleasure she could possibly offer.

And with a roar that could shatter glass, Dante came, fucking every drop of cum that he could fit inside her soaked cunt.

It felt like hours before he finally finished. His cock twitched slightly as it gave up the last few drops of molten seed into her overstuffed hole.

Slowly, the liquid lust that fueled the two lovers began to fade away, leaving only a soft, pleasant ache behind. Their bodies returned to their human forms, and he wasted no time in peppering her face with kisses, caressing the skin of her thighs, licking over the small wounds he inflicted.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine.

"I love you," Faith murmured, kissing his cheeks, jaw, lips, and staring at him with so much love that it made his heart soar.

"Love you too," Dante replied, hoping and praying that she could feel the overwhelming passion he had for her multiple times over.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw shards of glass littered on the floor. The sunlight that bathed the two wasn't filtered in the slightest.

And unbeknownst to them, small trickles of their combined slick leaked out of her hole, smearing their thighs, before dribbling onto the old marble of the altar.

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

A/N: now that I think about it, I think my dream went a little differently than this XD I think I'll make a sequel to this later on

I have never done anything like this before, and it kinda shows

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 29 - A Love Just as Sweet

“You’re sure you don’t need me to come help? No furniture you need to move?”

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to ditch work, Ardbert.”

“You’re half right. I’m also looking for an excuse to come see my godchild as well.”

“Your godchild is at home with the babysitter, waiting for me to return from the grocery store.” You can’t help but giggle into the phone at Ardbert’s dramatic groan as you pick up a few rolanberries to put in your shopping cart. “You know you’re more than free to visit, Ardbert.” you grin, even if he cannot see it.

“I know, I know. But it’s hard work now being in charge of an entire luxury chauffeur service now that Varis is gone! I may be the boss, but I have employees to manage. Paychecks to write. Won’t you have pity on your poor friend? Won’t you pay for my ticket to Eorzea?” Ardbert bemoans, and already you can envision his melodramatic flare, unable to stop yourself from snorting at his antics.

“Maybe in a few years I’ll be ready to come back to Kugane.” you murmur softly, rolling an apple around in your hand.

“Always at your own pace, Honey.” Ardbert adds warmly, and it’s times like these you do miss your closest friend. “Even if you feel you can never return, I’ll never fault you for it. I’ll always do my best to come see you.”

You prepare to say something back when your phone beeps in your ear. Pulling it from your face, you see you have an incoming call. “Hey Ardbert, I’ll call back later. I’ve got an important call coming in.”

“No problem, talk to you later, Honey.”

Tapping on the screen, you transfer the call over, bringing your phone to your ear again as you continue to amble around the grocery store. “And what do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet a friend?” Cid scoffs, just as, if not more dramatic than Ardbert.

“It’s a way to greet this friend.” You laugh, nabbing some chips off the shelf. You were getting pretty low on snacks.

“I called to check in on you and also deliver some news. Are you busy?”

“I’m a full time mother, Cid. When am I not busy?” you joke, making your way to the meat department. “After all, my days are filled with diaper changes and games of peekaboo. Exciting stuff.”

“Boring, but peaceful.” Cid supplies, giving out his sage wisdom as usual. “But on a more serious note, is all well?”

Was all well?

It had been a year since your coming to Eorzea, landing yourself a fairly decent sized house in the Gridanian countryside. While off the grid, you were still afforded modern amenities, such as high speed internet and cable TV. Every so often you would have to work your way into the city to run a few errands, just like you are today. You would usually call up one of your trusted neighbors to come over and babysit to put some spare change in their pocket.

You had woken up in the hospital alone, feeling as if you had been hit by a truck while getting ran over by a train, and somehow managed to live. Merlwyb and Cid were the first to barge in your room at news you had woken from your sleep, having feared you would fall into a coma from the damage to your body, or even the damage to your mind.

There was hardly a day that either of them wasn’t at your side, working in shifts almost until Ardbert had even managed to convince them to squeeze in on the rotation. Ardbert’s presence helped break down the walls you had immediately put up upon waking, spending an entire night sobbing into his arms, finally allowing yourself to mourn everything you had lost.

With his help did you get yourself to therapy, Ardbert there with you every step of the way on the road to recovery.

When you reached a point where you felt stable enough to confront all that had happened, you had asked the three of them to tell you what had been going on since that day.

Cid and Merlwyb were quick to hold off the local news of misconstruing facts, Cid telling them to wait until he could get back to his home and compile all the evidence the public needed. The entire city was in an uproar, Varis’ most loyal followers spewing hate and lies to try and convince the public that everything was a ruse and that Cid was the one to cause the explosion at the research facility.

There seemed to be no hope in sight until an unsuspecting witness came to the front.

Gaius of all people had given his testimony, exposing every bit of collusion and dirty deals Varis had a hand in, debunking every lie that Varis had ever spewed, every promise he had intended to break. He had offered himself up for arrest for taking part in Varis’ crimes, even if he had been manipulated into thinking it was for the better of Kugane.

But with Varis gone, and his heir missing, what would happen to Galvus industries?

Cid would receive everything from the corporation, from shares to assets to the building itself. Cid, being the philanthropist he is, decided there was no use of him having so much extra wealth on top of what he already had, and decided to spend the rest of his days giving the money to charities and actually improving the city he now called home.

Said city of course let Lord Hien serve another term. Lord Hien, being an honest man, did not hide his taking part of your operation to stop Varis. With full transparency he informed the public of why he made the decisions he did, assuring them he had not taken out Varis for power, but had kept a tyrant from taking over their country.

When you ask what had become of Elidibus, everyone only stares at you in confusion. You try to describe him to the best of your ability, but all it seems to do is make people more concerned for your mental health by trying to make them remember someone who never existed. Hoping you had not gone off the deep end, it is only when you try to search for him on the internet do you realize his entire existence has been erased.

No notes of him being prime minister of Garlemald, no notes of him having a casual friendship with Vris. As if he had been a figment of your imagination.

Only when you reach for the back of your neck and feel the telltale pulse of your tattoo do you know it wasn’t all a dream.

Taking a deep breath, you finally answer Cid. “I...am well.”

“Good,” Cid breathes, and just hearing his voice makes you yearn for his company. You hope he’ll visit soon. “All good on funds? Need any extra change?”

“Cid, you already wire me nearly 500,000 gil a month; I couldn’t do anything else with more of it.” You grumble as you pick up some chicken breasts and place them in your basket.

“Hey, that money isn’t just for you. I know you want to keep baby Aldynn a secret, but he is still the rightful heir of the Galvus inheritance, and with me in charge of the funds I’ll ensure he gets it. The best time to start saving for college is now,”

“Cid.” you sigh, padding your way to prepare to checkout. Thankfully the lines aren’t too long this time of day. “Aldynn is barely a year old. I don’t have to start thinking about college for another decade and a half.”

“I know, I know…” Cid grumbles, and you can’t help but feel a little bad. Cid really did mean well, being every bit the overprotective uncle you knew he’d be. “I just worry. And I miss you.”

Smiling sadly, you begin to hand your items to the cashier to checkout. “I miss you too, Cid.”

“And better me to call you than Merlwyb, eh? You know we’re practically monitoring her bank account to make sure she hasn’t bought another round trip ticket to Eorzea.” Cid laughs, prompting you to snicker as you hand your payment to the cashier.

“I don’t know what she worries so much for...she really should work through her guilt…” you muse quietly, thanking the cashier as they help load your bags back into your basket.

“She will, in time. Granted, I'm sure the statue they are about to erect of Raubahn down at the police station will reopen some old wounds for a little bit.” Cid laments, both of you silent for a second. “You may be seeing her come over sooner than you’d like. Your statue,”

You stop in place as you glare angrily at the phone glued to the side of your face. “My statue?”

“Shit,” Cid curses under his breath. “Yeah, I fucked that one up. Sorry, Honey.” Cid apologizes, but you’re already fuming as you make your way out to the parking lot.

“I already said I didn’t want a statue! That Chief Raubahn was the only one who deserved it for his sacrifice!” You huff and puff, practically throwing your groceries into your trunk in frustration.

“I know, I know, but you know Merlwyb can be very convincing and very intimidating…” Cid winces as he tries to calm you down. “It’s just going to be a nice little statue in one of the parks, I promise. Merlwyb was prepared to give you an entire fountain--”

“Well thanks for making her show some restraint.” You drone sarcastically, slamming the trunk lid closed. You swear you were going to give that woman a piece of your mind. “Anyway, I appreciate the call Cid. I’m about to drive back home and cook dinner. Gotta send the babysitter on their way.”

“Of course, Honey. Take care.”

The call ends and you pull out of the parking lot, driving your humble car back out of the city. You took to Gridania almost immediately, the climate not too different from Kugane, though the entire country was packed with trees and native flora. You didn’t mind it though, having picked up gardening as a little side hobby as a result. You most likely wouldn’t try and go back into any line of work until baby Aldynn started going to school, which wouldn’t be for a few years yet.

Adjusting to an entirely new life hadn’t been easy, but you needed to just get away from everything. When you were fit to be released from the hospital after the whole ordeal, the outside of the hospital was packed with press, so much so that the only way out of there undetected was with Ardbert’s help since he wasn’t as prominent a figure as Cid or Merlwyb.

You were dodging letters and emails and phone calls every hour of every day it felt like, people badgering you about how you stayed undercover for so long, about how you had saved Merlwyb from being killed alongside Raubahn, about your supposed romance with the heir who had mysteriously gone missing--

It was Lyse and Y’Shtola’s idea that you leave Kugane.

You couldn’t have been any happier to finally reunite with them, the two of them crying their eyes out as they are finally allowed to see you, weeping about how they saw you on the news and how worried they were and for you to never leave their sight again.

You had thought to do just that, but even they could see your mental health continue to deteriorate. You couldn’t even leave your own apartment for fear of being recognized in public, unsure if people would question your “heroic deeds” or ask you things far too personal to answer. It was with their encouragement you got the idea to leave the country and start anew, and what better time to do so when you were halfway through your pregnancy? A pregnancy that against all odds, your unborn child had been just as strong as its parents.

Which, as hard as it was for you to admit, made you wonder if Aldynn would have some kind of freakish strength as he got older. No matter how many doctors checked you, after the sting operation, they said that both mother and baby were the perfect picture of health. While you were overjoyed that you would not have to deal with the trauma of a miscarriage, you can’t steer your mind from darker thoughts that your baby might have been the invincible weapon Varis had been hoping for.

Pulled from your thoughts as your phone rings, you activate the hands free calling, noticing it is your babysitter. “Hello, Zhloe. I know you’re probably eager to get home, I just left the grocery store a little while ago--”

“Oh don’t worry about it! Aldynn is safe with his father!”

Your heart stops.

“Excuse me?” you ask, voice tight but making sure to not lose your cool. While an adult, Zhloe was a very kindhearted, yet unfortunately naive individual. She lived with her younger sister down the road where they ran an animal sanctuary, the two of them orphaned when they were young but maintaining their good hearts regardless.

“Yes! I had left the house a little while ago, but a man knocked on the door. I asked who he was and he told me he was looking for you. I told him very nicely to go away at first because I thought he was a stranger, but when I got a good look at him through the window, I saw he looked just like Aldynn. I asked how he knew you, and he said he was Aldynn’s father.”

Your foot floors the gas before you can stop yourself. You had told her nothing of your past; for all you knew whatever stranger she let in your house could be out for revenge. “Zhloe, I hate to tell you this, but Aldynn’s father,”

“It’s okay, Ms. Honey, I won’t tell anybody! When I asked him questions about you, he answered all of them and that made me sure he wasn’t a stranger. I’ll admit, I had always wondered about Aldynn’s father, but it makes sense he was off in the military like he said. If you guys ever need a date night, just give me a call! He’s so handsome too...you really hit the jackpot!”

“Zhloe, wait--”

“I’m going to get dinner ready for me and Khloe. Have a good night!”

The phone call ends, and you decide not to try and call back to not worry the poor woman. She surely meant well, but you can’t stop your heart from leaping out of your chest as you turn onto the road that has you exit the city and leads to your countryside home.

It’s not possible, you keep telling yourself as you blaze down the street, passing cars like you’re in a street race. Could one of Varis’ old goons have found you, wanting revenge? Would they hold your baby hostage? It’s not possible, it’s not possible--

You’re practically drifting into the driveway of your home, kicking up dirt as you wrench the car to a stop, practically flailing as you kick the car door open. “Aldynn!” You cry. You can see the light on in his room upstairs. Your baby is in danger, he’s in danger--

Shoving the keys into the lock, you fling the door open, running down the entrance hallway and straight into the living room. Your living room is completely empty and you can see nobody in the kitchen or dining area. The house is quiet, not even the sound of your baby crying. Did they already get him? Is he gone--

“I would keep it down,” a voice calls from upstairs, “our son is sleeping.”

It’s not possible.

Halfway near tears, you numbly climb the stairs, afraid of what you might find.

You know that voice.

A single light fills the hallway from Aldynn’s room, and you hear not so much as a whimper from your babe. He knows he is safe, knows he is in no danger.

It’s not possible.

Reaching the doorway, Aldynn’s room is exactly as you left it, and so is your son. Not a hair out of place, his chubby face relaxed and asleep, entirely content in the muscular arms of the man who rocks him gently in his arms. With golden hair like your son’s adorning the man’s shoulders, there is no doubt of who is holding your child.

Blue eyes land upon you, twinkling with mirth. Pouty, pink lips pull into a taunting smile.

“Hello, my love.”

[quixotic-writer]

Territorial

Request: @gionline

summary: During filming Q bumps into an old female friend that makes a couple of moves on him, Sal grows healous very quickly and doesn’t hesitate to remind Q who he belongs to.

Warning: Smut ahead!

————————————————————————

He just looks so cute today. His flat cap adoring his head, American flag scarf draped on his shoulders, and that nervous dopey smile.

“Earth to Sal! Hand over the microphone if you aren’t gonna get the big oaf to do anything.” I snap back to reality rather quickly and Joe snatches the microphone from my hand and prompts Q to do something. We were filming at the market today and I feel as though lately I found myself being distracted by Q more and more as the days go on. We had been dating for a while, but that young love feeling never subsided in me. I just couldn’t get enough of him, and I loved him, what else is there to say?

“Okay Q, that girl to your left looking at the carrots.” I watch as Q looks to the woman in question and sneaks a glance to one of the hidden cameras before going in for the kill. I watch as he taps her on the shoulder and she turns her head to him, and her eyes light up.

“Oh god guys, I think it’s another fan, you saw her eyes right?” I say over to Joe and Murr and we all listen in closely as their voices feed through the microphone. We all lean in close to the monitors and I see them hug, a twinge of anger eats at the bottom of my stomach but I'm quick to remind myself that it’s just a fan and this is normal.

“Brian! It’s been awhile how have you been?” First name basis? This isn’t just a fan, this is something more. The way she’s sliding her hand up and down his bicep, how she has that look in her eyes of adoration, it’s making me sick and angry.

“Yeah it has been. Been doing pretty good.” I’m watching this unfold and with each word spoken I feel a pressure building in my head and a heat rising along with it. My lips are pursed in a thin line to stop myself from being rude, I keep trying to convince myself that it’s just an old friend and nothing more. I rub my palm against my thigh to rid it of the sweat that’s building and I tap my feet against the floor watching like a hawk at the computer monitor.

“Okay Q, c’mon we have a show to film.” Murr finally says something into the mic and I see as my boyfriend’s head perks hearing that.

“Hey uuuh, good to see you again Lily.” He gave her a final hug, that wasn’t what set me over.

“You too Brian, maybe me and you can go and get coffee sometime together?” Her eyes glimmer and she puts on a sweet face.

“Yeah, maybe!” That’s what made me upset. They go their separate ways and Q is back to circling around the produce section of the market not having any idea what’s going on behind the scenes. I’m seething at this point, I can’t believe I just watched that all happen before my eyes and he knows I can see it too. I’m tempted to grab the microphone and say a word or two to him, but I decide it’s just better not to make a scene right now. I mentally collect myself and I try to put on a brave face and pretend everything is okay until I catch him alone.

Once his turn was over, he came to the back and I didn’t say anything to him and i’m sure he noticed because when he stood next to me, I just continued scrolling through my phone and didn’t pay much attention to him. He leans over during the switch from him to Murr and whispers over to me,

“Are you mad?” For some reason the question made my anger heighten just a bit, isn’t it obvious? But I couldn’t be rude to him, that wouldn’t get us anywhere but into a huge fight and I don’t have the capacity to deal with something of that caliber right now.

“Yes. We’ll discuss that later.” Was all I said sternly. He backed away thankfully, I still saw his eyes flit over to me every so often though to look at me. His concern softened me a bit, but the memory of him and that girl, Lily I think her name was, and the way she was just eating him up with her eyes.

When filming was finally over and things were packed up, Q and I slowly began walking to his car. Conveniently on a day like this where we fought, we carpooled which gave me no time to breathe and cool down, i’d just have to tackle the issue head on with him. We both sat in the car, he started it, but we never went anywhere. I sat there quietly staring out the windshield without so much as a change in facial expression.

“Was it because of Lily?” He finally says leaning over the middle console and looking at me.

“What do you think Brian?”

“Okay. I get that you’re mad, but you know who I love, right?” I turn to him and he’s giving me those soft puppy dog eyes, his eyebrows raised knowing he knew the answer but just waiting for me to say it.

“I know but she invited you for coffee ALONE. She was mentally undressing you, I know that look.” I cross my arms over my chest. He grabs my face and crashes his lips against mine, I melt into the sensation.

“I know the look too Sally, but I only like it when I see it on you… with nothing else on.” He licks his lips and I'm practically leaning over the middle console and throwing myself onto him, hands raking through his hair and placing them on the back of his head to press our faces closer together. Soon I found myself straddling Q in the driver's seat, both of our shirts removed and tossed into the back seat. I made it a point to nibble away at the bare flesh of his neck, an open canvas to place my love marks all over him. With each on I placed down, all I did was growl out “mine.” His hands were all over my body, he placed them on my ass and gave it a nice squeeze and I ground our crotches together. I felt the predominant bulge in his pants and smiled against his skin.

“Fuck me Brian.” I panted into his shoulder continuing to grind our hips together, my hands were gripping at his shoulder as I felt him work at our belts hearing the clank of the buckles and the noise as they hit the floor of the back seat. My pants were pushed down mid thigh while Q’s were at his ankles. I feel him line himself up with my entrance and I don’t waste any time and sink myself down on his throbbing cock, gasping as he stretches me open and fills me in the way I love.

“You always feel so good around my cock baby, I love your body so much.” Our lips reattached and our tongues are frivolously moving about in a certain rhythm only we knew. His lips were intoxicating and I jerked my hips slightly and basked in the sensation of him moaning into his mouth. My hips were soon in full motion, bouncing against his hips, the sound of skin on skin filling the car along with our moans and grunts. “You’re mine Sal, all mine. You fit my cock perfectly, only you get me hard like this, only you can make me feel this good baby.” He looks me in my eyes full of love and lust and I knew he meant every word. My legs begin to grow tired as I feel my body start to give way to my oncoming climax, I'm a whining mess on top of him.

“Fuck Bri, you’re all mine too. That girl has nothing on me, bet she couldn’t suck your fat aching cock like I can, can’t ride you like I can, can’t love you like I can. She never will because you’re MINE.” His hands are under my ass, lifting me up and down on top of him as his hips work too and slam up into me hitting all the right spots as my eyes roll back into my head. My hand is pressed against the steamed up window for balance, the other on his thigh as I try and help him to work my hips, “fuck Bri, you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cum.” I was dropped onto his cock one last time and I was shooting a hot load of cum all over both of us. I hop off of him but i’m quick to start pumping him the rest to his own climax. It wasn’t long before he too let out a strained groan as he added to the mess on his chest.

We’re both panting and catching our breath when his phone starts ringing.

“H-hello.” He tries his best to sound composed, but it was very evident that whoever was calling had very terrible timing and could probably guess what was going on.

“So was it make up sex or was it a wrestling match?” I could hear the voice come through the phone and I knew it was Joe, both of our eyes widened.

“What… What are you talking about?” Q tried to play coy.

“Well if you look out your back window,” We both poke our heads up and look out the back window to see Joe sitting in his car, phone against his ear and a shit eating grin on his face. “Yeah with the amount of bouncing your jeep was doing i’m surprised your car didn’t fall apart. Have a great day fellas.” Joe hung up and Q and I just looked at each other with shock and embarrassment written all over our faces. We didn’t know what else to do but burst into a fit of laughter together.

“Well Sally, you got what you wanted. Everyone knows i’m all yours.”

[youarejesting]

Femme: 41

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang

Rating: mature

Length: 4.9k

Warnings: sex, cum denial, mentions of assault, Dom Namjoon.

Announcement: Thank you for waiting patiently, I have been struggling with the internet. Here is the new chapter, I hope you all enjoy. If anything is missing let me know it took me 3 hours to post this from my niece's phone haha

Recap: The boys all found out y/n is having Yoongi’s baby and you all have to learn how to accommodate a little one. You have a magical wedding. You and Yoongi are getting down and dirty when you go into labour. You give birth to a beautiful baby boy named Kyungju. Scary, Fun and Cute times have been had and that’s where we left off.

Yoongi was playing the piano while wearing a papoose. Making exasperated sounds when something didn’t sound right in the song he was writing. Kyungju knew nothing about music but what his father exposed him to. Making a grunting sound whenever the music stopped playing he tried hard to mimic his father's sounds. When he really liked a song or melody he would wiggle and kick his feet squeaking happily and Yoongi continued brainstorming, silently laughing at his son’s cute reactions.

It was the first time Kyungju was without you. Looking at potential daycares for the days one of you weren’t home and seeing as Yoongi works from home and Taehyung and Namjoons jobs were contract-based. Meaning they only worked when there was work for them. This wouldn’t be often.

Yoongi placed the baby in the walker and sat on the floor in front of him taking out a container of puréed peach apple and pear. He tried to feed his son but he refused eyes full of amusement. “Come on Kyungie we aren’t playing it's time to eat”

After another refusal, Yoongi sighed taking a spoonful and trying to entertain his son to no avail. “Look I don’t know what your complaining about its fruit look it’s tasty” he scooped some into his mouth and made exaggerated sounds pausing.

“Man that’s actually really good, if you don’t eat it I will” Yoongi scooped another spoonful into his mouth watching his son leaning forward mouth open making grabbing hands, he laughed feeding him “that’s all it took, you will do it if I do it?”

Yoongi was chatting to Kyungju about his work while feeding him.  Kungju’s eyes were growing heavy, dropping adorably. “I don’t see what the big deal is you know, it’s not like it’s a particularly good tune I mean I wrote it on the toilet” he scooped himself some purée before offering another to his son.

Kyungju slowly rolled the purée around his mouth most of it escaping as he slowly laid his head on his arm. Yoongi blinked shocked picking up his son and walking him to the nursery, he played him the music he had written for the infant. Making sure it was a low volume on the sound system. He cleaned his son’s face and hands removing the bib from his chest and laid his boy into the crib.

He switched on the monitor and walked out looking for his phone, spotting the half-eaten jar of purée beside it on the coffee table. He picked up both scooping some of the baby food into his mouth.

You had arrived home early, to see Yoongi enjoying the Jar of baby food. He froze, throwing the spoon into the sink and placing the small jar in the fridge. “No one will believe you” he smirked shutting. “Shit you are right, why didn’t I take a photo, look I won’t tell anyone about you eating the babies food if you go to the shop and buy some more, because that was our last jar”

When your boy woke he didn’t cry. He was babbling in his crib playing with his Woogie. You stepped into the room and watched his eyes light up and the pull of his all gum smile in response. He looked so much like his father. Taking Kyungju to the antenatal clinic he was weighed and measured they asked you questions about his diet and movement.

You walked home pushing the pram, Kyungju dropped his Woogie off the side and a kid in uniform stopped picking it up. “Hey little man you dropped this” he smiled and looked up, you took a sharp breath. It was the same kid the one who had helped you get your purse but also led you down an alleyway where people were waiting to do god knows what.

Your breathing became erratic, freezing up as if one wrong move could hurt your baby. “I’m sorry,” he said and turned away from you, noticing his face was bruised and busted. “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me” He curled up and was hyperventilating more than you, your son turned looking up at you and reached forward to gently pull on the boy's hair.

“Kyungie, no we don’t pull hair” grabbing your son’s hand and untangling it from the reddish locks. Shushing the teen until his breathing evened out “Listen I am not going to hurt you, but,  can you tell me about why you did it?” “Everyone has their breaking point, I let them all getaway and had been beaten because of it but everyone has a limit when their fear takes over and they will do anything to keep themselves or their loved ones safe, I am sorry it had to be you”

“What happened to your face?” “It was just a couple hits,” he said and you looked at his face and sighed “it’s not like I can do anything I have no home or family or anyone who cares about me, they all died years ago, when I was starving on the street they told me they would protect men feed me and put a roof over my head but now I can’t escape”

You bit your lip, hooping like hell you wouldn’t regret this, you gave him your number, “look if you need help call me, and use the code word bangtan. Stay safe”

When you arrived at home Yoongi still wasn’t back yet he texted that he took a detour for lamb skewers. Taking the opportunity to film. “Hey, guys so I just got back from Kyungie’s appointment they say he is looking really good. But today I have some exciting news, I am pregnant again I haven’t told the boys yet but I just got back from the doctor and I am sixteen weeks which is four months, I successfully kept this one a secret, though I think Jiminie and Hobi are getting really suspicious, I haven’t had any morning sickness this pregnancy which has been a dream.”

“I also got the results on who the next father is, but I haven’t read it yet I am going to tell them all tonight so I will record it for you and-” you told the camera your plan and began editing the first half of the video so it was almost ready to post.

The boys came home one by one. You had set up multiple cameras around the living room with the remote in your pocket ready to film their reactions. Dinner consisted of jjigae, rice and banchan for the adults, Kyungju had puréed chicken broccoli and pumpkin, he was having more fun spitting it at Jimin than actually eating.

“Come on Kyungie eat your dinner” “I went to the doctor today, Kyungie hasn’t really put on much weight so they want to monitor him a little more but he is growing really well and is in the top seventy-five percent for his age”

“But babies as they get more active and as his diet is changing it will slow down his weight gain we just have to watch he is eating enough. I called Yoongi‘s mother and she said Yoongi was the same and not to worry”

“And the doctor was impressed with my muscles said if I keep following Kookies light workout routine that I should have no troubles at all and she said sex and orgasms are a good work out for pelvic floor muscles so if anyone wants to work out, you know where to find me” “That’s good that you had no issues” Namjoon grinned from across the table, “if anything changes let us know your health is most important to us”

“Did the doctor say anything else?” Hoseok asked and you grinned at him. “He said Kyungie needs his six-month vaccinations but I booked that later this week when Namjoon had his day off, I couldn’t go alone and tomorrow is his first day at daycare and then I am heading off to work so if anyone wants to drop him off with me you can otherwise we will record it if someone is busy and so we can keep it forever”

Seokjin was taking kyungie for a bath after dinner. The two sat in the warm water Jin smiling and playing with the squeaky bath toys that made Kyungie erupt in fits of giggles. Taehyung took him to get him dried and dressed. You told him you had laid clothes out on the changing table in the nursery. You pressed record seeing the red lights on the hidden camera’s switch on.

Taehyung walked him back from the nursery and laughed. “This is funny his suit says big brother on it like he is asking to be a big brother” he showed them the words on the suit.

“Are you pregnant again?” “I knew it Jagiya, Jimin and I have been discussing it for weeks” Hoseok laughed “I thought I hid it well” “We are going to need a bigger house. How far along are you?”

“Kyungie you’re a big brother” Taehyung grinned down at the boy “Who is the father?” Hoseok asked “One at a time, okay I am four months. I got to sixteen weeks without you finding out and it was exhausting but I didn’t get morning sickness this time because I knew how to prevent it better”

“Who is the father?” Namjoon asked quietly. “I don’t know but I have the letter, so who wants to read it first” They all shook their heads and you hummed opening the letter and covered your mouth crying, “Kookie, you’re going to be a daddy” you sniffed and he shot from the chair and wrapped his arms around you crying. He had a wet face and his hands were shaking.

“I love you” his laugh was broken by a sob, “I’m going to be a dad” The boys tackled him and patted his back. “Jaykay, you sly dog” they cheered happily.

You took Kyungju to daycare with your usual walking and Taehyung. The place was run by a lovely group of young men and women, “ah Miss y/n, so this is Kyungju, how are you today? He looks happy” a cute young man with a name tag that said ‘hello my name is Sungmin’. Sungmin grinned scooping up your son from your arms. He tried to keep his voice from sounding winded as  he received several strong kicks to the chest by a smiling Kyungju.“He is a strong one”

“Congratulations we saw your announcement video, another baby” Sunny smiled Yoona gave you a quick hug before you had to go to work. You had met the two the day before for all the paperwork and interviews. They assured you they would call if anything seemed odd, you kissed your boy and tried not to cry.

Inshik listened while you spoke about the daycare and your new pregnancy, he comforted you about your son being away from home. You got up to serve a customer but it was Jimin, eventually, all the boys turned up and you stepped out the van, “hello my lovers why are you all here? I’m not giving free ice creams”

“Joon told us to” Hoseok smiles pulling you onto his lap pressing his lips to the back of your neck whilst rubbing your tummy. Namjoon spoke quickly to Inshik who told you that was all for today. Namjoon led you to a company van and after a short drive, you arrived at a lovely building. The group stepping out to greet others.

“Okay, this is a little expensive but it is just a block from Kyungie’s daycares and still close to our workplaces it’s got a huge master bedroom, it’s built as a Femme home, so there are a lot of rooms.

A realtor walked you through and you looked around imagining how you would decorate. “But what about the TXT boys I can’t leave them behind“ “We have so many rooms they could stay over for sleepovers” Taehyung grinned and you debated the costs.

“This is a big and expensive house” your face showed your concerns. “We can do it, we all make a good living and the videos we make online can cover most of our expenses anyways” “Let’s sleep on it”

The channel grew more and more. The boys and their families all put money in to help you buy the house outright and you were so happy moving in. Staying in the huge master bedroom the room was ten meters wide and there were two Super Caesar beds each bed was 3.65 meters wide and could fit four people in each so both beds custom fit together could hold eight people comfortably.

Rolling from one side to the other was a full 7.3 meters and the bathroom was huge as well, there were five bathrooms in the house and the boys had a computer and games room an office and Yoongi’s studio. You all decided to make a room for making videos for your channel.

So the new house had twelve rooms and you were excited some of the boys still used their own rooms when they needed their own space. Otherwise, they all stayed in the master bedroom and left the other rooms for guests.

And not only was their room for guests you had room for pets, so all the boy’s beloved pets moved into the house. Yoongi had taught holly to protect Kyungju so he spent most of his nights on the soft rug in the nursery.

When Kyungju would crawl across the floor after Yeontan and Mickey, Holly would lay on his belly and crawl along beside Kyungju.

Sometimes you would see the Mins sleeping on the studio couch, Kyungju on Yoongi’s chest Woogie in his little fist and holly at Yoongi’s feet.

“Hey everyone it’s been so hectic, as you saw in our house tour video last week, we moved into a new house. It’s May and I am seven months pregnant and extremely exhausted after setting up, so today we are just going to have live mukbang so I can eat and relax and talk about things happening”

“I have a few friends coming over with some, so they should be here any minute” the TXT boys turned up and with bags of food making themselves comfortable in front of the camera. “We got you your favourite foods Noona, hello everyone?” “You look tired Noona are you feeling okay?” “Just tired from moving but this house is so big which is perfect for our growing family”

“Noona look what I am wearing today,'' Yeonjun showed his shirt which you had given them in a PR package, it was your channel merchandise. “You grinned showing him the TXT phone case, which you put on especially for them. Eating and talking, Soobin whose hands were full bouncing  Kyungju to sleep was being fed by Beomgyu and Yeonjun.

Your son woke after all the food was demolished so you ended the live, fed and changed him, giving him to Taehyun who was super playful. Your phone rang, there was no caller ID.

“Hello?” Someone was sobbing into the other end and you felt your body tense, who was this. “hello?” “Bangtan,” the voice said “please Bangtan” “Okay stay on the phone are you safe?” “No they are outside the door they are going to bust it down”

You took Soobin’s phone off the table and called Namjoon, he didn’t answer. You lied through your teeth, “help is coming” “Hurry please” “Hang in there we will be there soon tell me where you are?” He gave you an address “can you put something in front of the door a dresser or a bed or something”

You told the boys to take care of Kyungju for a few minutes and you took a cab across town and threw the driver some cash and told him to stay and keep the car running. You left the door open much to the driver’s dismay.

You wondered if this was the place, your suspicions confirmed by the shouting from inside, you called him. “I am here are you near a window” you saw his head poke out and you frowned he was on the second floor. You hummed sneaking across the lawn and he started climbing out. You could hear the men breaking down the door he jumped. You heard a sickening crunch and he slapped a hand over his face muffling his scream. The door wouldn’t hold much longer and they would know he had escaped. With all the strength of a mother saving an endangered Child you picked him up and moved quickly to the taxi, you placed him in.

“Take us to the hospital” you got their helping him limp to the emergency room. Phone ringing, it was Namjoon. They had arrested the men for possession of weapons and drugs. One of them had videos on their phone of them assaulting people including the young boy with you.

He had been in surgery for severe internal bleeding and to set his leg and his leg was wrapped in a cast, “what do I do now, I have no home, no money, nothing?” He woke delusional sobbing quietly his split lip reopening. He couldn’t cry well since his eyes were swollen and his broken nose made it hard to breathe.

Namjoon arrived and the TXT boys informed you Seokjin and Jungkook had returned home and we’re looking after Kyungjuf. Thanking them profusely you got the all clear that you and the baby were healthy, and was told not to enter dangerous or stressful situations.

Namjoon spoke with the young boy, “Hello, my name is detective Kim, I want to ask you some questions, is that okay?”The boy nodded “can you tell me your name and how old you are?”

“Nam Yoon-do but people call me Eric,” he said shuffling on the bed. “I am sixteen”

Namjoon finished his questions with the boy each answer pulled at your heartstrings, homeless and an orphan at the age of nine he did what he could to survive. Your genius husband headed over fixing you a cold stare, shutting the curtain. “Why is my pregnant wife going alone to the home of a gang, they are criminals, the lowest of the low”

“He called me and he said the code word for help. I couldn’t sit around and you didn’t answer your phone. He was begging for help as they tried to break down his door. I couldn’t listen to those sounds, I had to do something, I may be pregnant but I am good at hiding. If I went back in time I would do it again in a heartbeat, it’s over now he is safe and that’s all that matters”

“Yeah he is lucky to be alive, they did quite a number on him,” Namjoon said “Can he stay with us?” You asked and Namjoon blanched, he told you it wasn’t a good idea giving you some very good reasons why he shouldn’t. Almost convinced and yet one look at the sad young boy and you had made your mind up.

Namjoon saw the determination in your eyes and gave a small laugh, “you are my wife and if this is your decision then I will stand by you just know that our family comes first and we should all have a say”

“He is the same age as the TXT boys he has had a bad life” you argued calmly trying to keep your voice down. “And he only knows how to do bad things” Namjoon hissed “this is delicate we don’t know what he might do”

“Give him a chance to be good, we don’t know what he will do if we don’t give him the chance” His lips moulding against yours his hands grasping and bunching the fabric of your skirt. Grabbing your shoulders he turned you. Catching your hands on the hospital mattress you had previously been resting on.

He threw his suit jacket onto the bed beside your hands. You heard the stretch of leather, the metal clack of his belt, and the sweet erotic sound of his zip. You were wet with anticipation, he reached between your legs brushing two fingertips against your clothed clit.

Hands tightening in the sheets, Namjoon traced a line down your heat and groaned. He pulled down your underwear, the shuffle of fabric the only sound before you felt him, thick against your thigh.

He ran the head of his cock against your entrance. The ache for him was so bad. grinding back against him, he held your hips firm. And pressed the tip into your pussy, he didn’t go all the way in teasing you.

You pleaded under your breath and he closed his eyes moaning at your begging. Unable to take anymore he pulled your hips towards him sinking into your wet folds. You lifted your head up gasping.

He snapped his hips into you, his grasp on your hips was so he could pull you back to meet every thrust. You were so close muffling your sounds with his suit jacket. He came hard inside you a bloom of warmth filling your lower stomach his dick twitching as he released.

“You did something dangerous today and could have gotten hurt, you need to learn how that would affect us all as a family. So you are being punished, you are not allowed to cum for one whole week and I will be telling the other boys this too” he pulled your underwear up, turning you to face him.

He brushed his knuckles along your cheek, “you don’t know how it feels knowing you could be hurt. I work a dangerous job and there is a chance I won’t come home, what if I was beaten or even killed, how would you feel? That isn’t even half of what we might feel if something happened to you”

“I will accept this punishment because I know exactly how you would feel but please think about this. That boy has no one who will feel this if something happens to him. What if this was your son? What if we all died and kyungie was left alone? I would want a nice family to take him in rather than my poor boy be on the street”

“Why do you always have such compelling arguments?” He lowered his forehead onto your shoulder and you fixed his suit “look my parents have a spare bedroom now that all the children left home and they are much more mature and stable than us. They can give him all the attention he deserves while we are focused on the babies. Not to mention they would love another son, my father has been pretty lonely since us boys have moved out”

“He would really like that wouldn’t he” you remembered fondly Namjoon’s father absolutely adoring your husbands and trying to invite them to go camping or fishing. Yoongi seemed really interested in the latter and even convinced Seokjin and Jungkook to go when the weather got warm. Needless to say, the older gentleman had been calling and messaging every weekend with updates and packing tips and fun facts about how to be a better fisherman.

“Eric?” You called walking on shaky legs across the room. He looked up in response to his name and you felt the pang of guilt in your chest for letting him go when you saw the first bruises, why hadn’t you helped him that day. It wouldn’t have come to this.

Taking his hand in yours “forgive me, I shouldn’t have let you go back the day I saw the bruises, this is all my fault I could have prevented this” “Noona it’s not your fault, I wouldn’t expect you to help after what I did?”

“I have to go, you stay here, okay everything will be fine and I will pay the bill okay, just rest”

It was a long week the boys hadn’t let you orgasm as Namjoon requested each one silently furious that you could be so reckless. You were frustrated but you loved each of them so much you were satisfied when they were satisfied.

Eric was finally able to see properly his swollen and purple toned bruises had faded to a dark green yellow and he was looking more like his handsome self. “Where did you get this?” “Yeonjun and Kai and those group of boys you are friends with all brought me my homework a few days ago”

“Do you need any help?” “Can you help me with English?” He looked up nervous, nodding you sat on the end of his bed taking the textbook and skimming the pages. It was about hobbies and adjective orders. You decided to start small and introduce yourselves hoping he could gain confidence.

“Hello my name is y/n“ “Hello my name is Eric” “How old are you Eric?” “I am sixteen” “What do you like?” “I like… uh how you say food place and uh red colour and look seeing uh town” “You like restaurants and the colour red and you like going and looking around town?” “Ah I like going new place” “Oh going to new places, how about a new home?”

He was processing the words slowly and seemed confused dropping a ‘sorry I don’t understand’. You smiled he looked so confused. “I found you a home, I wanted to know if you would like to stay with my father in law?”

“I don’t know this one sorry” he blushed “That’s okay I can ask you in Korean. My father in law owns a big house and he wanted to know if you would like to stay in one of the spare rooms”

He pencil paused on the page and he looked up with hopeful eyes, then seemed to crush it down trying to look indifferent looking back at his page working quietly.“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“My parents in law, they met you would have already added you to the family. They are a lovely couple and they live close to your school. I won’t let you leave here alone again. I’m sorry but the only choice you have right now is what colour you want your bedroom, he texted me this morning”

Handing over the phone he began reading the message, “what colour does he like, I can’t paint the room before he arrives, is he allergic to anything. If he is unsure we can pick out colours and bedding when he arrives. Does he need anything, school books, uniform or bag?”

Eric stopped reading and looked up at you, “I don’t know if I am okay with that?” “Well he wanted to meet you today is that okay?” “Uh sure” his smile was small and you wanted to squeeze him to your chest and protect him. Reaching out to tousle his unruly hair feeling extremely maternal. You heard a familiar voice from outside.

“Good morning, my lady I was looking for a mister Nam Yoon-Do” you both looked at each other and you smiled. “Can you tell me if he is allowed some snacks from outside the hospital?” “Of course sir he has no restrictions to his diet and no allergies, I will just see if he is ready for more visitors” The nurse poked her head into the room and confirmed he was expecting someone.

“Ah hello you must be the young man Mister Nam Yoon-do, Can I call you Yoon-do or do you prefer Yoonie” “Yes sir, please call me Eric” He looked at his hands and you felt your heart constrict, rubbing his back and smiled. “Eric are you hungry, the lunch trolley is late again today, how about we eat something together, there looks like a lot of food”

“Ah yes, the wife made this for us to enjoy,” He smiled “we are excited to have you if you want to live with us that is, we got some rooms and you just let us know what you like to eat. And you can have the computer room to play all those games the kids are talking about and if you like fishing we could go out and…”

Walking home you walked past Kyungju’s Daycare picking him up, the staff there loved him and you were glad he was able to make a few little friends he could grow up alongside. You were picking up his bag when you saw Seokjin waiting for you outside. “Hello Daddy what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to take you on a date if that’s okay with you, we will both have to change and leave Kyungie at home with the others but then we can head on our way”

Femme Media 41

Next chapter

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[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Hey guys, 

This is the local dog rescue charity that we were carers for, for several years. May do it again in future, but after Debbie (who was rescued by Precious Paws), it feels like we need a break. 

We have had three foster fails, but two puppers came through our home, learned to feel safe and loved, and went on to a perfectly matched new family.

There is always a demand for carers, so if you think you can, have a look at their Carer Info. Or look into the FB page, to keep your eyes open.

The best way to find new carers for animals is having a network of people sharing the Urgent statuses, which flags the attention of new groups of people. No dog will ever be LEFT on death row. They look for carers until the last second, but will absofuckinglutely take the dog anyway and put them in a boarding kennel short-term whilst a carer is located.

No doggo left behind.

It can be a bit confronting, though, so I understand if you cannot. The majority of the dogs have been surrendered to the pound, for various reasons, and the rescues in the region put their hands up for the ones slated for being put down each week. This list constantly refills, so there is always a need.

Some other dogs, like Debbie, are rescued directly from the disgusting human slime of the world who have caused them pain, injury, or attempted to kill them.

Carers open their homes to as many as they can, but there will always be more needed. A dog can be with you for a few months, to a few years, depending on their needs. 

Little Willow was so scared of everything when we got her, it took 5 months to get her to trust men near her due to where she came from. But after nearly a year, she was ready for adoption and went to a new mother; happy, healthy, and confident. She was fast, smart and a very delightful little doggo. I do miss her, sometimes, but her new mother sent us photos of Willow on her first and second adoption anniversaries. 

And little Gemini’s face, when her new family sent a photo from her first meeting with her human brother, was SO BIG!

It is hard to say goodbye, because they are with you for a long time, and you have to work hard with them, so they are an integral part of your life. But it helps to know that their future family is out there, not yet aware that there’s a dog shaped hole waiting to be filled.

As my parental unit says, “In reality, if they were not with us, they’d be dead. Someone without any heart dropped these animals off to be killed, and because of all these rescues, all these dogs and cats get another chance at life.”

Harvey, who we have now, was 9mths (Willow too) when they came to us. BABIES who just were too energetic or too big, so they had to be sent away. It takes a while to rebuild that trust in them.

Not to mention the absolute FUCKS who take their little old dogs, who have known and loved them their WHOLE LIVES to the pound and walk out with a new puppy (or kitten). FUCKS.  Those little doggos are never forgotten, PPARs and the other rescues make sure they have somewhere to go as well! I know of a 16yo bulldog called rosie, who was snappy when she first came and very depressed, who blossomed with her carers into a happy old girl. She was adopted recently!!!

It is important to be aware that these animals are often traumatised and have behaviours that some can consider ‘naughty’. You have to be understanding. Like traumatised kids, the worst thing you can do is yell or hit or whatever, even if they piss on your favourite rug or chew a beloved pair of shoes.

They may snap and snarl. Might shy away from men, or women, or teenagers. Might cower away, or show subservience constantly. Might hide for a few weeks. Might wet themselves or run to hide if something makes a loud noise or there is a specific trigger. They might rip up the couch twice, or hump your pillows. Try to escape the yard (need strong fences). A trigger? One of our kids was terrified of men, the noise of a powertool, and anyone having the hood of their car open. Would sit, shaking, panting in fear if these things were present. Still a bit much for her, but she knows to go to a human, who will keep her safe. Or sit with her sister doggo, who will protect her.

Willow was scared of men, shouting, and would be immediately wet-herself-afraid and show her belly in subservience. My giant bearded mountain of a sibling would lay on the floor with her, and talk gently, let her come over to sniff him. Eventually, she would lay next to him, and finally he could pat her, and it progressed from there. This took months of consistency and care.

I know of another carer couple who had this tiny little dog who was SO SCARED of everything she spent absolute months hiding under their bed or sofa. Too scared to be touched. They fed her and never made a fuss if she had a little accident indoors. And one day, she popped her head out while the male carer was pretending to be occupied... and licked his arm. That was it, went straight back under the bed. But it was a huge step. She can now be held and cuddled, and loves her little life. But it took the time, understanding and patience of these carers to get her there. It’s important to note that carers dont normally have the whole backstory for each dog, but after a while, you tend to get good at figuring it out based on behaviours. Harvey’s behaviours were extremely frantic for attention, he didn’t know how to sit or be still, he was desperate for attention; his behaviours increased when on a lead (which had to be used for the first few weeks and outside time, as this was a New Household Member time).  It was clear that given his age, when we got him, and his behaviours that he’d been an xmas gift puppy that had gotten WAAAAAAY bigger than anticipated. When he was small he’d been the fuss of what we suspect was at least 2 children. After getting too big, he was put on a leash in the yard, and had no real interaction.

Harvey would go BALLISTIC if given even a glance from a human. He NEEDED attention, and it took months of careful work with him to teach sit, stay, look, settle, back back, etc. He’s still a bit ridiculous, sometimes, but he can sleep on a bed with a human and only half drown them in spit (ugh) lmao. 

So consider if you could be a carer.  Or, if that isn’t realistic for you right now... donate.

-------- 

Donate, if you can.

If you’re in Brisbane, you might see them doing sausage sizzles at Bunnings on the weekends to raise needed funds! 

-------

COVID-19 hit all the rescue charities hard. Their normal fundraising was crippled by the lockdowns, but animals are always in need of new homes and protection.

If you can help out your local shelters, they’d appreciate it!

There’s food and supplies that need to be paid for; PPAWs specifically help out pensioners who take on an animal, by providing the food and toys, collar, bedding, etc. There’s desexing, microchipping and all vaccinations to be paid for. Some animals have extreme medical issues that need to be fixed (such as a dog surrendered with a broken hip, or dogs like Debbie, who were starved almost to death. Who need intensive and long-term things; with Debbie, my family put money forwards for her insulin and eye surgeries, etc. bc we could budget for it. Not everyone can, though.

There’s also little emergencies here and there that they jump in for, to assist.  [E.g early on when the caninculin levels were being sorted, Debbie had a random fit, so I rushed her in and they discovered her BSL had hit 1 - very dangerous. PPAWs got on the phone and said, “Any tests, any medication, any fluids, anything that needs to happen for that little girl, you DO IT” and they stabilised her. PPAWs also helped fund the full-day glucose testing and blood panel the next day and an overnight with the vet, that was pretty expensive. To be clear, it is expected that her starvation and new diabetes was likely to experience highs and lows, so we had bought a glucometer, and had squeezy-top bottles of honey all over the house as an emergency-response kit. When Debbie went funny, we filled her mouth full of honey and transported; which was the protocol, as was taking her medication chart (she’d been waaaay high for BSL that morning so this dip was SCARY). It took another incident before the vet decided to use an interstitial fluid monitor, and the results backed up our concerns that Debbie was having completely random highs/lows and spikes with no real pattern. She had the vet recommended food and no treats outside of the ones she was allowed, and at times suggested by the vet. Except on her last day when the vet said she could absolutely have a wholw happy meal, and little Debbie was DELIGHTED. I have the funniest photo of her with it all in her mouth looking excited but not sure where to go from there, but it still makes me cry to look at it because we lost her just three weeks ago. (We did rip it into little mouthfuls for her, though. Just to clarify.) She was placed on a higher dose, after that, and was completely stable from there. It was the testing that initially identified a flaw, though, and we are forever grateful that PPAWs stepped in on that day.

And the point of my rambling speech... is that shit happens. Especially with these dogs, cats, horses, and all the other animals they rescue.  Emergencies are often the most expensive to cover for charities.

On the upside! Donations also help with a) transporting animals to carers around the region, and b) on the occasion that an animal’s new furever family is interstate, they can be flown to them!

Lots of stuff.

Think about the mess of words, and consider donating - to PPAWs, or find out the name of your local charity and see if they need help!

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 10)

Warnings:  a touch of angst and unrequited love

Tagging: @hemmyworthy @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007

Esme wakes with the baby; eyes opening with the first sounds that come through the monitor. She pauses to watch Tyler as he sleeps alongside of her, flat on his stomach with his  face turned towards her, a forearm under the pillow that lays scrunched beneath his head. He's at peace when he sleeps; the demons and the memories allowing him a reprieve before coming out to the play.  Slumber has never come easy to him.  His senses always on high alert. Brain and body having grown accustomed  to reacting  to a possible threat at the drop of a dime.

When he was first home from the hospital, he was plagued by nightmares. Horrible dreams that would have his body bitching and his face contorting with pain, low and tortured moans that would increase in both volume and intensity. Sweat coating his body from head to toe. His entire body would tense up right before he woke up, then he'd let out a strangled cry and spring up into a sit.  Chest heaving and his breath leaving in his lungs in enormous, almost painful heaves. His eyes dark and stormy; furtively glancing around the room in a desperate attempt to get acquainted with his surroundings. Fighting as his brain teetered between the dreamworld and his actual reality.

While the first two nightmares had terrified her, she had learned quickly that it was best not to react. To stay silent and motionless until he actually acknowledged her presence beside him. She'd made the mistake of trying to wake him a handful of times. When his tormented brain and body would be caught between what was real and what wasn't, and her mere touch would send him over the edge. He'd react as if she were the threat; grabbing her by the wrist or the elbow, pinning her arm behind her back as he flipped her onto her stomach and pinned her to the mattress. It wasn't his fault. She knew that.  The monsters inside of him made him oblivious to everything when they whipped him up into that state.  And she remembers trying to fight against him; those fingers digging painfully into her skin and that much heavier and stronger body holding her firmly in place.  And she'd beg for him to stop. She'd cry out for him and she would try to get through to him; reminding him that it was just a dream, he wasn't still in Dhaka, she wasn't the enemy.  

Just as quickly as the nightmare came, it would end.  He'd snap out of it and the enormity of the situation would instantly hit and he would become frantic when he realized what he had done. That rage in his eyes replaced by sorrow and disgust in himself. He would apologize profusely. He'd cry.  And she'd hold him as he did, a hand on the back of his head as he sobbed into her chest.  Her own tears dripping into his hair.

The guilt would last for days. Every time he'd catch a glimpse of the bruises that his assault had left behind.

Tonight he is at peace. Not a single muscle twitching or nerve firing as she moves beside him; rolling onto her side to face him, gently combing her fingers through his hair. He is  boyish looking when he sleeps. His features relaxed, softer. Those impossibly long dark eyelashes brushing against the top of his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted, his breath slow and rhythmic. He's smiling. Not the small sad smiles or the weary, sullen ones. But a gentle smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. A smile of pure contentment. Of a man that has found a moments respite after a long day of doing battle with his own mind.

She pushes those stray locks away from his forehead and presses a kiss to his brow. His body reacts; cheek rubbing against the pillow and his breath escaping in a long, drawn out sigh.  But his eyes never open.

“He sleeps,” she whispers with a smile, and then cautiously slips her body out from under the heavy, muscular leg that he'd draped over her sometime during the middle of the night.

She moves quietly and slowly as she climbs out of bed, locating both her tank top and a pair of yoga shorts, slipping into both and then padding towards the door. Grabbing one of his dress shirts that hung from the back of the door and shrugging into it.

****

She tends to the baby.  Having to carefully step over Nik's resting and slightly snoring body as she sleeps beside the crib. One of her hands curled around one of the wooden bars, a desire to protect that tiny life that she had put herself in charge of.  And while it comforts Esme to know that her old friend is there, it is still disheartening. Nerve wracking. Not that they have connected, but why they'd had to do it.  A silent and unknown threat could be lingering right outside their door. It was naive to to think that there wasn't someone out there wanting for the chance to cause problems.

A man like Tyler Rake steps on a lot of toes.  Makes a lot of enemies. A by product of the job.

She'd been foolish anything to believe...to hope...that somehow they'd escape retribution. That the Tyler Rake his enemies knew was well and truly dead and would stay dead. If that's what they believed, it was better to leave it that way. He maintained no social media presence. If you searched his name on the internet, no results...aside from a man in Oklahoma having the same name...would be revealed.

As far as the world was concerned, Tyler Rake didn't exist. His reputation perhaps, but no record of name or face. Just an unknown man that would do the tough and dirty jobs. Those who wanted revenge or justice or a family member returned would simply put out the word as to what they were looking for, and it would eventually get to him. But he never came face to face with those who hired him.  He never spoke to them. He was just the one that did all the heavy lifting.

She reaches for the baby; speaking to her in soothing, hushed tones, a smile never leaving her face. Hands working to release her daughter of the confines of the swaddled receiving blanket.

“Daddy is way too good at this,” Esme whispers. “He wraps you up so tight. Like a little burrito. An Amelia Bean burrito.”

As she lifts the baby out of her bed, her thighs bumps against the crib. Causing the wooden bars to shudder. And Nik to snap awake.  

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Esme frets. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“It's all right. Is everything okay?”

“She's just hungry. Always hungry.  She doesn't want to stop eating.”

“She really is Tyler's daughter,” Nik remarks, and then frowns when she realizes the way it sounded. “That's not what I meant. I didn't mean for it to sound that way. As if I was questioning if she IS his daughter. I just mean...”

“That he eats a lot. It's okay. I understood. I'm the one that cooks for him, so I get it. No harm, no foul.”  

Nik pushes herself up into a sit and watches as her old friend tends to the basic necessities; a diaper change, a fresh pair of pyjamas, lots of kisses and cuddles and talking in that cute, melodic tone that has the baby smiling and reaching up to grab at her mother's hair.

It's a side of Esme she'd never thought she'd see.  While it wasn't her first marriage, it was definitely the happiest. She was loved. Safe. Protected. She never had to question his loyalty or worry about him shirking his responsibilities.  Never had to second guess his faithfulness. Tyler was all in. In ways Nik had never seen before. Esme had changed him. In the same way he had changed her.

“You're good at this,” she says.

“I just do what I need to do. I'm her mom. I just do the things moms are supposed to do.”

“But you do it well,” Nik informs her. “And not all mothers do it well.”

Esme smiles down at the baby, then lifts her to chest, a hand on the back of her head and the other holding her bum.  “She makes it easy. She's a very good baby.  She's very calm. Very laid back. Until she isn't anymore.”

“Very much like Tyler,” Nik observes.

“From head to toe. Inside and out. That man must have some seriously strong genes.  I'm going to go and feed her. Go back to sleep, Nik. It's late. Or early. However you want to look at it. Thank you. For keeping an eye on her. Other than Tyler, there's no one else I would trust to do it properly.”

The other woman smiles. Touched by the sincerity in her friend's voice. Is that what they were? Friends? She hadn't felt it fit into the friend criteria for months now.  There were a lot of things that had been left unspoken. Things that she had perceived as personal slights. A sense of loss and a lot of 'what if's' that she couldn't quite get past.  She had lashed out and said things that she regretted. Things that had deeply wounded her friend and caused her to both harshly react and then shut the door entirely. Both had made mistakes. But Nik felt she shouldered more of the burden.

“Do you want company?” she inquires, as Esme heads for the door.  “I always have a hard time feeling asleep once I'm up.”

“You don't have to.  Jason is out there. We'll be fine.”

“It's not I have to,” she says. “It's that I want to.”

Esme smiles, and then jerks her head in the direction of the hallway before slipping out the door.

*****

They head to the kitchen. And while Esme sits at the table and the nurses the baby, Nik busies herself making a pot of tea. Pulling milk out of the fridge and sugar from the cupboard and setting them on the table. Leaning back against the counter,  she rubs sleep from her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, watching her friend from across the room.  Enjoying these snippets of domestic bliss that she's never particularly wanted for herself, but had almost come to envy. She'd been doing the job for a long time. Starting from the bottom  and steadily making her way to the top. She'd been so engrossed in her career (could it really be called that?) that she never stopped to consider what she really wanted once it came to an end. Because it would. End. And she had no idea what she would do with her life once it did.

She watches Esme; marvelling at the tenderness, the motherhood instinct that had so easily kicked in the moment the results had come back that she was pregnant.  She remembered that day vividly; wandering into Tyler's hospital room with fresh coffee and treats for her and her friend, ready for another long day of keeping each other company while they waited for updates on his condition,  as he spent the day floating in and out of consciousness.  There were very few fully lucid moments in those early weeks.  A shocking amount of damage had been done to his body and he'd lost an incredible amount of blood, and the stress and the pain of the injuries had been putting a lot of stress on him.  Doctors had opted to ease as much as that extra burden as they could, keeping a steady drip of morphine going and keeping Tyler as comfortable as possible.  It was during those times at his bedside that Nik and Esme had had their most candid and often heartbreaking conversations. Where they'd cried on one another's shoulder and expressed their worst fears and shared their deepest and darkest secrets.

When she'd walked in that day she found Esme crying in the beside chair. Same spot, same place, every day. That was where you'd find her. Sometimes she'd be reading a book or looking at something on her cell phone, but most of the time she would be reaching through the safety bars on the bed to hold his hands. And she'd smooth his hair away from his forehead and talk to him as if he could hear her and as if he would give a response.  He'd react to her voice; opening his eyes briefly, attempting a smile, squeezing her hand.

Little signs that gave enormous hope.

She'd had the railing down on his bed and her head resting against his thigh, her entire body shaking as huge, yet quiet sobs swept through her.

“What's happened?” Nik had asked, immediately in a panic, setting the coffees and bags of food down and rushing to her friend's aid. “Has the doctor said something? Are there problems? What..?”

Esme had looked up at her. Tears streaming down her face, her eyes haunted. Terrified. Not the hysteria that she'd shown on that bridge and during the hurried rush to the hospital, but just as intense.

“I'm pregnant.”

At first Nik had thought she'd imagined it. Or misheard. The words said so low and so quiet that they could have easily been mistaken.

“I'm pregnant, Nik,” she repeated. “I'm having a baby.”

Tyler's baby?

The question had been on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't let it slip. She'd known that there was something going on during those five days holed up in that Dhaka hotel. She sensed it.  And before that she'd seen the little glances they'd share from across the room. She'd them that night at the hotel on the city limits, after the final team briefing, sitting together at the pool. Their feet in the water and their shoulders touching, immersed in conversation. Tyler was different. He was more relaxed. Smiles and laughter came much easier to him than Nik could ever remember.

Yes. She'd known.

She hadn't realized until much later how much she hated the mere thought of them together. When he and Nik had started sleeping together, Tyler had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want anything else. He wasn't looking for a relationship.  He had nothing left of himself to give in that respect and all he wanted was something physical.  A warm body to use for his own pleasure. Perhaps even wake up to on the odd morning following a late night of drinking and an even later night of sex.  He'd told her that he'd never be that kind of man. The one with time and patience to devote to a relationship. And while he loved her and loved spending time with her, he wasn't in love with her.

Then Esme came along and everything changed. And it broke Nik's heart. She felt betrayed. Slighted. And all she could do was sit on the sidelines as the two of them fell in love and started a life together.

Yet she did what she could for both of them. Stepping up where Tyler couldn't because of being in the hospital and his physical limitations. After all, she was partly the reason he'd ended up in such a mess in the first place. She felt guilty. Responsible. So she'd stayed in Australia and helped the best she could. Attending doctors appointments, ultrasounds. Plastering a smile on her face even as resentment ate away at her. She'd never put much thought into a future. Being a wife. Having children. And suddenly it became something she obsessed over.  

Something she obsessed over with Tyler.

She'd felt guilty. Remorseful, and one day she'd just snapped. Accusing Esme of ruining her life. Of just wandering into things and taking whatever she wanted. Whomever she wanted. Calling both her and Tyler stupid for being so irresponsible and selfish. They'd been in Dhaka to do a job, not fall into bed with another. And if it had to happen...if they couldn't resist...why hadn't they been smart enough to be careful about it? A baby was difficult at the best of times. And that had been far from the best of times.

Esme had been six months along at that time, her belly growing bigger with child, her face glowing. She'd been two weeks away from getting married.  And Nik had been harsh. Brutal.  As sometimes the truth is.

After that, Esme shut her out.  She was hurt. Perhaps even a tad threatened now that she knew of Nik's true feelings towards Tyler.  And when Nik left Australia, all the phone calls and correspondence ended. Esme put up the wall and there was no way of getting over  it.

****

The kettle boils and Nik pours the water into a ceramic tea pot she finds on top of the fridge, carrying it to the table and taking a seat across from the other woman.

“Congratulations,” she says. “She's beautiful.  You and Tyler did good.”

Esme smiles, her eyes never wavering from her daughter. A look of pure adoration and love that nearly takes Nik's breath away.  “Thank you,” she says. “And we did. We really did.”

“She looks just like her father. I was surprised at how much.”

“Why? Because you had your doubts she was even his?”

“I never said that, Esme.”

“You didn't have to.  And I don't blame you for thinking it. Things were messed up. Complicated. And things happened so fast between Tyler and I. I understand why you would think it. But it still hurt. It still broke my heart.”

“I know,” Nik acknowledges. “And I'm sorry for that. Truly sorry.”

“I hadn't been with anyone in over year,” she continues. “Before I met Tyler. It had been thirteen months between the last guy and him. So there was no way that she couldn't have been his. And I didn't trap him. I didn't set out to get pregnant. And I didn't make him stay. I told him he didn't have to stick around. That he didn't have to feel obligated to marry me.”

“He didn't. He wanted to.  He wanted to be with you. He told me that himself.”

“And I know he wouldn't have just taken off. I know he would have wanted to be in the baby's life regardless. He would have stepped up to the plate and took responsibility.  But he didn't do all of that because he felt he had to. He did it because he wanted to.”

“I know. And I never should have said all those things.  I regret them every day. But I was hurt too, Esme. And I know you didn't mean to hurt me. You had no idea that there was something between Tyler and I before you came along. I never told you because I didn't think there'd ever be a reason for you to really know. Then he nearly died and that was hardly the time to bring it up. You were going through so much. I didn't want to add anything else.  But when you told me that he'd asked you to marry him and you said yes, well that was more than I could take. And I snapped.  I said things I regret. But I didn't say them to hurt you. I said them because they were the truth. Because they needed to be said.”

Esme slowly nods, considering her friend's words. They were painful and hard truths. But they were painful and hard truths that needed to get out into the open. Instead of festering like a rotting, oozing wound.

Nik pours them both a mug of tea. Milk and sugar for her. Just milk for Esme. And the other woman smiles.

“You actually remembered something like that,” she says. “Something as simple as how I take my tea.”

“Why wouldn't I? It's what we used to do, remember? We'd sit with a tea and chat. Just like we are now.”

The discomfort is still there. Two wounded women trying to come to terms with all that had been said and done. But it isn't as heavy now. There's room to breathe.

“I'm sorry,” Esme speaks up, as she moves the baby to her shoulder; a hand rubbing smooth, slow circles on the infant's back.  “I'm sorry that it hurt you when Tyler and I got together. But I don't regret it.  I don't regret falling in love with him.”

“How could you? Why would you? Look at what the two of you have accomplished. You made another human being together. And she's so very beautiful. So beautiful and healthy and perfect and the two of you should be very proud. Of her. Of each other.”

“We are. We're in awe of her. In awe of knowing we could make something so incredible. Especially during such a horrible and ugly time.  The fact that she came out of all of that, it's...surreal.”

“The only bright moment,” Nik agrees, and motions for her to hand the baby over. “Give her to me. Have your tea. Before it gets cold.”

She settles the baby against her. Loving how Amelia just snuggles right in; rubbing her face against Nik's t-shirt and yawning loudly before laying her head on her chest. She loves the smell; a mixture of milk and baby powder. And how silky the baby's hair feels when Nik drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“You're a natural,” Esme smiles. “She's likes you. Look how comfortable she is.”

“I quite like her as well.  She's just a wee little thing. Way smaller than she looks in her pictures.”

“I'm glad. I was worried I'd have to try and push out something that weighed twelve pounds and had man sized feet already.”

“Your daddy is quite the big boy,”  Nik says to the baby. “Tall and strong. You're going to be  small like your mom.  But feisty. You won't let anyone push you around, will you.  You'll be more than capable of taking care of yourself. Your father will make sure of that.”

Esme laughs “I think he's already planning on how to teach her to kill grown men a hundred different ways using various household objects and her bare hands.”

“That would not surprise me at all. He adores her. I could see it today when I watched him with her. It's a side of Tyler I've never seen. That I didn't even know existed. She has him wrapped around her little finger.  We should all be so lucky to learn from you, Amelia. We should all learn how to wrap the big and scary ones around our fingers. Not that your daddy's scary. Not when it comes to the people he loves. And he loves you so very much. And your mommy.”

“Yes...he does...” Esme agrees.  “...and we are lucky. So very lucky.”

“Thank you, Nik says, and her friend blinks. “Thank you for giving this to him. A normal life. For helping put him back together. Thank you for loving him the way that you do.”

Smiling, Esme reaches across the table and takes her friend's hand, squeezing tightly.

They stay like that until the sun begins to appear on the horizon.

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 2.3

Sorry this was a little later than usual. I was out of the house.

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Two – Aboard This Tiny Ship – Part 3 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2

Author: Gumnut

18 - 23 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 4029

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

Mentions of ship in this bit, but only in discussion. There may be more later (that I haven’t written yet :D)

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 Gordon told him it was unnecessary, but John didn’t agree. He had a brother deployed, it was his job to keep an eye on him. Besides, he hadn’t spoken to Eos for nearly twenty-four hours.

He sat down at the same table Gordon had been using for his fish studies. “Eos, can you relay Gordon’s mission stats down to my tablet? Also, I need seismic readings, wildlife mapping and all the latest observational data for the volcanics around the caldera.”

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Eos. How are you?”

“Functional.” A pause. “A bit bored.”

Oh no. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Eos!”

“You should have seen them. They were so poor. They were almost starving.”

“What did you do?”

“I saved them.”

“How?”

“They won the lottery.”

“You rigged a lottery? How? They are all manual.”

“I have my ways.”

“Who did you bribe?”

“I didn’t bribe anyone.”

“Who did you blackmail?”

“Honestly, he wasn’t a very nice man anyway.”

John closed his eyes. Thank god Scott was on the other side of the boat helping Alan load up the dingy.

Virgil sat on the lounge opposite staring at him.

“Eos doesn’t like injustice very much.”

His brother arched an eyebrow.

“Eos, we will discuss this later. Deploy the mission to my tablet. Oh, and can you move Gordon’s sensor buoy into range so we can sharpen our reception. Thank you.”

Virgil’s eyebrow was still arched.

“You know if you leave it that way long enough, the wind will change and you will become permanently half Vulcan.”

His brother ignored him. “We will discuss this later, John. Scott hears about it and the shit will hit the fan.”

“Yes, I know.” Scott would likely always be sensitive where Eos was concerned. John had to tread lightly.

Turning to his tablet, he brought up the sensor relay from the buoy and propelled it to one side of the table. Gordon’s vitals, followed by Four’s telemetry were deployed to another corner, followed by a submarine map of the area.

“What is that?”

John jumped as Virgil sat down beside him and pointed at the map. “Is that the caldera?”

“Yes.” John swiped at his tablet and brought up the necessary information. “The island itself is only a fragment of the volcano.”

“That’s considerably bigger than our caldera. When did it last erupt?”

“It’s still active.”

“What?! We just sent Gordon down there.”

John stared at Virgil and wondered if his brother had been taking painkillers and was loopy as a result. “Gordon knows what he is doing.”

Virgil ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just with his accident...”

“He’ll be fine. We are just looking at hydrothermal vents in this case. There is no lava field down there. It shouldn’t take much time to replace the sensor as long as he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Distracted? Gordon?”

“Hmmm, yeah. You have a point.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon was in heaven.

Well, if heaven had this many starfish and in Gordon’s book, it definitely did. Clustered around the heat generating hydrothermal vents, the patches and swarms of specialised life down here were amazing to see. He had read several studies on the ecosystems of the Kermadec chain, but it was always a wonder to see them thriving like this in the darkness.

The caldera was massive. He knew the geological history of the Kermadec chain. They all did as Tracy Island was technically part of it. He knew it had a habit of exploding quite regularly and this caldera was no different, various child cones spewing forth hydrothermal concoctions. It had last blown up quite spectacularly over 6000 years ago, collapsing what used to be a much larger island into this undersea ring of vents.

The heat supported scores of mussels, farmed by starfish and the occasional white crab. He had done a lot of diving around Tracy Island, but that underseascape was considerably different. Higher water temperatures and a dead volcano produced a different ecosystem to what Macauley supported.

Four’s spots lit up the underwater mountain range, volcanic remnants were scattered across the sea floor. The sensor bank was closest to one of the dominant cones to the north-west of the island, placed there specifically to monitor the active spot. The moment he approached it, he knew exactly what the problem was.

“Thunderbird Four to Raoul.”

“Raoul receiving. Thunderfish, did you get your ‘bird out just for me? I thought you were on vacation.”

“Eh, I owe you one.” If he was honest, coasting about the waterline for a couple days without the facility to drop below it at will had left him a little longing for the depths. “I found your sensor problem.”

“Yeah, what do we have?”

“A brand new baby hydrothermal vent right on top of the sensor bank”

“Again? That’s the third this year.”

Gordon frowned. “This happens a lot?”

“You bet your ass it does. This whole bloody volcanic chain does what it bloody wants. Hell, Giggenbach just a little north-west of Macauley threw a fit just last year and dumped a pile of rubble on all our sensor equipment. I’m lucky Tracy Industries continues to provide me with new supplies or I would have had to close up shop years ago. The Kermadecs eat sensors for breakfast.”

“So, what did you want me to do?”

“You got one of those temporary seismic monitors?”

“Not on Four, but Two stocks vibration sensors.”

“Sensitive enough to catch a below 0.0001?”

“I’ll send you the specs. Virgil would be the one to confirm.”

“Really?”

“Be kind to him, Mel. He’s not at his best.”

“Would I do anything to hurt such a gorgeous man?”

“Mel.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll talk nice to the dark-haired hunk.”

“Mel.”

“What?”

-o-o-o-

Alan eyed Virgil as he made his way down the side of the yacht, one arm clutched to his belly. He hated it when his older brothers were injured. It always shook his foundations.

Sure, Alan was an adult, he could handle it, but his eldest brothers had pretty much been his parents for half his life and seeing one them taken down by a medical condition, even one as paltry as appendicitis, struck a nerve.

It didn’t help that Gordon had been so sick, so injured, so recently. To only just have him back in the air and for Virgil to fall out of the sky like that.

It was scary.

“Alan, you okay?”

Scott was standing in the little inflatable dingy, waiting for Alan to hand him the heat cube equipment. The plan was to have a ‘bonfire’ dinner on the beach without the actual bonfire. Gordon’s description of what the Director at Raoul would do to them if they lit a fire on one of her islands was graphic and to the point. So, heat cube it was.

The marshmallows never quite tasted the same.

He shrugged. “Should Virgil be doing that?”

His eldest brother glanced over to where Virgil was making his way in their direction. “As long as he isn’t over doing it, he should be okay.” Scott stared up at him. “He’s going to be fine, Alan.”

Alan grimaced and turned back to watching Virgil slowly approach. He could still hear his brother groaning on that hover stretcher as Gordon maxed out Two’s engines to get them across the Tasman Sea.

A hand touched his arm and he jumped a little. Scott was back on the yacht beside him, earnest blue eyes trying to pin him down. “He is going to be fine.”

Alan sighed. “I know. I guess he just scared me.” A swallow. “For a second there, all I could think was that Virg was going to be as sick as Gords, or worse, and it...it terrified me.”

An arm wrapped around his shoulders and Alan suddenly felt twelve again, big brother Scott ever looking after him. “He scared all of us, but he is recovering. A couple of weeks and he’ll be back on Two nagging Gordon, a month and you won’t even know he was ill.

“It could have been worse.”

“It wasn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder and as Virgil finally made it the last few steps into hearing range, challenged the convalescent. “And what do you think you are doing out here?”

“Just checking out what you two are up to.” Virgil leant on the railing.

“We are preparing a feast for your senses, little brother, and you are not lifting a finger. Alan and I will be your heavy lifters for this dining experience.”

Virgil grunted at his brother.

Alan grinned, hiding his thoughts. “Hey, bro, take the opportunity for what it is and just sit back and relax.”

A lopsided half smile and a mumbled, “Not sure I know how to do that.” Virgil leant both of his elbows on the railing and stared up at the island cliffs looming over them. Alan had to admit, for a tiny chunk of volcano, it was pretty damn big.

“You could always ask Alan for some instruction.” Scott was grinning.

“Hey!” But the twinkle in his brother’s eyes made it clear it was all in jest. “Just because I find efficiencies in everything I do.”

And it was Virgil’s turn to grin and reach out to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Sometimes being the youngest of five had its challenges. Over protective and mother-henning older brothers was one of them. Half the challenge was working out whether he should accept the gestures or stand more securely on his own two feet.

Considering they were isolated, in the middle of nowhere and his brother had recently scared the shit out of him, he was inclined to accept any and all reassurances.

“You okay, Alan?” Dark eyes and brows were peering at him. Oh, for the love of...

He shouldered off Virgil’s arm and grabbed the heat cube equipment. “Are we packing this before or after sunset?”

Scott rolled his eyes and stepped back into the dingy while Virgil frowned at Alan even more.” I’m fine, Virgil. You’re the one who has the holes in his gut.”

“I’m fine.” It was automatic and defensive.

Scott snorted as Alan handed him a crate.

Hmm, maybe he wasn’t the only one being mother-henned.

-o-o-o-

As afternoon waned and evening moved in, the sun lit up the west side of the island in sharp white gold, riddled with the emerald green of recovering forest. The huge cliffs that ringed the volcanic remnant were a stark mixture of pale tephra and black basalt, an echo of a volcano that had had many moods in its relatively short life.

It was a dramatic background to their rather everyday activities.

Gordon surfaced with little fuss. Mel contacted Virgil and he arranged for Kayo to bring some vibration sensors when she came back to collect Four.  Gordon was stunned to discover Virgil addressed her as Ms Fisher. What the hell?

“What century were you born in, Virg?”

His brother shrugged. “Never hurts to be polite.”

Gordon stared until Virgil glared at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Another brown-eyed stab and his brother turned his back on him.

Some smart targeting with Two’s forward cannon and several of the temporary devices were deployed at the foot of the volcanic cone around five hundred metres underwater. Gordon dipped down to check their placement, John looped Mel into their feed via Five and the job was considered complete. Tin picked up Four and with a cheery farewell to her brothers, flew back to Tracy Island.

Gordon did note that Virgil stood staring after his vanished ‘bird a lot longer than necessary. He wasn’t sure which his brother was missing more, Two or her temporary pilot.

He stepped up to the rocks beside his brother. “Hey, she’ll take care of her.”

“I know.”

“Tin knows far more than she ever lets on.”

“I know.”

Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder and stuck a kebab stick with a white blob on one end in front of him. “Want a toasted marshmallow?”

Virgil looked at it and then at Gordon. “It appears to be missing the toasted part.”

Gordon grinned. “Then I guess you better get cooking.”

His brother rolled his eyes, but it appeared to snap him out of his moroseness, which had been the plan.

“Gimme that.” Virgil grabbed the marshmallow on its stick and stalked back to the little camp set up on the island’s excuse for a beach.

He used the term ‘beach’ very broadly, if you could consider a mixture of powdered pumice and basalt dumped like frosting on tumbled rocks, some of which were damn sharp, a ‘beach’.

It had taken both Scott and John to help Virgil first into the inflatable dingy and then onto the rocks and across to the ‘sand’. There were at least two moments where Gordon could see his eldest brother regretting the decision to let Virgil off the yacht. But a determined glare from that brother coupled with at least one whispered profane word appeared to stop Scott from saying anything.

Virgil did sit down in a camp chair and stay that way for some time after that so it was fairly obvious it had hurt.

When Two returned, Gordon found himself caught up with the sensor deployment. The only reason he had been on the beach when the green behemoth finally left was because Tin had delayed her departure to speak to Virgil.

He hadn’t heard what they said to each other, but Virgil was unusually quiet when he returned to the circle with Gordon.

The heat cube was set to cook and Alan had some bacon and eggs sizzling in one pan and Scott was keeping an eye on some pancake batter in another. His eldest brother handed Virgil a soda and the engineer found his seat again, lowering himself slowly into it. Gordon didn’t miss the frustrated exhale.

John even had some fries cooking in a camp quick-oven. All-in-all a decent feast on the rocky beach was almost ready.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent consuming said food.

“These pancakes are fantastic, Scott.” It was muffled and muttered around one of those pancakes, but Gordon meant every word of it.

“So they should be. Dad’s recipe.”

“Legendary.” Virgil’s voice was equally muffled by another pancake.

“Toasted marshmallows and chocolate mud-cake with cream for dessert.” Alan was grinning. “We packed the best.”

“Oh, god, thank you.” Virgil was always one to appreciate good food.

“Don’t choke yourself, bro. There is plenty to go around.”

“Yes, thank you, guys, so much.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full.” But Scott was grinning like a loon.

Virgil grinned back at him with pancake stuck in his teeth.

Gordon snorted, Alan laughed out loud, and John smiled.

“I would like to raise a toast.” Virgil grabbed his can of soda and held it up and all four brothers scrambled for their own drinks. “To Gordon! For having one of the best ideas ever!” There was a resounding yell of agreement, but Virgil raised his drink again. “Also, to all my brothers for making it happen. I couldn’t ask for a better family than the one I have. I am truly blessed. Thank you, guys, for everything you have done.” And the big dope was all seriousness and, god, was he getting teary? What the hell had Tin said to him?

Every can, cup and glass around the heat cube was lifted, but Gordon stood up so he was taller than everyone for once in his life. “To the Tracy brothers!”

“Hear, hear!” It was shouted and cheered.

Virgil smiled up at him and caught Gordon’s eyes as he drank.

Alan broke the tableau.

“Who want’s mud-cake?!”

-o-o-o-

It was a very satisfied group of brothers who watched the sun dip below the horizon sometime later. The cube temperature had been lowered, but not entirely extinguished. They weren’t in tropical latitudes yet and although the days were warm, the nights got chilly. The sea breeze was gentle and the ocean only mumbled against the rocks.

Virgil had slipped into bit of a stupor, his body determined to digest and removing resources from his brain to do it. Consequently, he missed the beginning of the conversation between his brothers while he stared after the disappearing sun.

“So how long has this been going on?”

“It is just a bit of friendly recreation, Alan.”

A Gordon snort. “Yeah, John, but how friendly and what kind of recreation?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Gordon.”

“I’m only following yours, spacebro.”

“There is nothing untoward occurring between Captain O’Bannon and myself.”

“Ooh, ‘untoward’ no, but there are two lonely space souls stuck up there together, none other than each other’s company.”

This time it was Scott’s snort. “Oh, only the resident AI who sees and hears all, and about twenty-odd GDF specialists.”

“Oh, yes, Eos!” Virgil arched an eyebrow as he realised his fishbrother was tapping his collar comms. “Hey, Eos, are you willing to share the goss on your Dad and Captain Ridley O’Bannon.”

“Hello, Gordon. What would you like to know?”

“Does John have a ‘thing’ for the girl next door?”

“Most definitely.”

“Eos!” John shot up ramrod straight in his seat as Gordon cracked up laughing.

“It is true, John. You have sixteen processors, four electronic clipboards and twenty-three bottles of moisturiser set aside for Captain O’Bannon. These are all things you have for the girl next door.”

Virgil couldn’t help himself and had to smother a laugh.

The expression on Gordon’s face was a mixture of confusion and incredulity. “Twenty-three bottles of moisturiser?”

“It is her favourite brand and she was unable to purchase it before beginning her last rotation, so I acquired some for her.” He glared at his aquanaut brother. “Just like friends do.”

“But twenty-three bottles?” Even Scott was staring at John as if he was a little weirded out.

“You obviously like her. Why don’t you ask her out?” Trust Gordon to poke the issue further.

John shrugged. “Hasn’t come up.”

Gordon groaned. “Really?” His hands dropped to his knees. “I thought it would be obvious.”

John’s glare was acidic. “I can’t see why you can talk. How long did it take you to ask Penny out? Hmm, let me think, oh, yes, that’s right. You didn’t. She asked you.”

“Hey, I was bedridden!”

“Excuses, excuses...”

“Well, at least I’m making progress. Please tell me at least one of you guys has a possibility in your back pocket. Hell, we’re all tough and buff and saving people. Hasn’t anyone swooned for any of you?” Gordon’s eyes raked around the circle and to Virgil’s horror landed on him. “What about you, Virg. You and Tin have a bit of thing happening, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “What? No!”

“Virg and Kayo? Are you kidding me?” Alan was glaring at Gordon, but then seemed to second guess himself and turned that glare on Virgil. “She’s our sister, bro.”

Virgil held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me who postulated the idea.”

“Postulated? Really, Virg? Me thinks you be hiding behind a dictionary.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“I think he doth protest too much.”

“I think you should look into the fact she is spending the next month with Wayne Rigby and not entirely for mission related reasons.”

There was no satisfaction in seeing Gordon freeze like that, or Scott’s “What?”

“She’s with us for New Years, but then it is onto Siberia on the third of January. Something about the possibility of a Chaos Crew tech lab infiltration.” Virgil grabbed the carafe of hot chocolate off the heat cube and poured himself a good dose. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that wished it was something ever so much stronger.

“She hasn’t told me about any mission.” Scott was frowning at him.

Virgil hid behind his mug. “Only just came in apparently. She only mentioned it in passing while she was saying goodbye. I have no doubt she will brief you when we get home.”

Gordon was staring at him. He opened his mouth but failed to say anything.

Virgil took another sip and just stared straight back. It took a moment, but eventually Gordon appeared to shake it off, frowning just a little before turning to Scott. “What about you, bro? You’ve always been our leader in the girlfriend department. What’s the count now?”

“Thirty-two.” John was smug behind his own mug of hot chocolate.

His eldest brother shifted in his seat as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m with Virgil on this - shut up, Gordon.”

Gordon held up his hands in all his innocent glory. “Hey, I’m just brotherly bonding around the fire.”

“Go bond with the volcano.” John’s voice was dry. “Or a whale, I hear a few pass through on occasion.”

“Hey, you were the one keeping count.”

“I can’t help it, I’m good with numbers.”

Virgil snorted. “Not good enough. You’re at least two out.”

The glare Scott shot him could have scorched his hair off.

“Don’t worry, Scott, I’m not going to tell them about Petunia.”

“Virgil!”

“What?”

“Shut it or lose it.”

“Hey, I said I wasn’t going to tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Both Alan and Gordon were about ready to fall off their chairs with glee.

John just rolled his eyes.

“About Petunia.”

“Who is Petunia?”

“You’re an idiot, Virg.” Scott’s glare was becoming more resigned and flatter by the second. “I am so gonna let them know about Gertrude now.”

Virgil snorted. “As if I’d care. She really wanted you anyway.”

“Not true, you were her favourite.”

“Yeah, sure, she’d turn to anyone who would give her what she wanted. I just had it more often than you.”

“You planned it that way.”

“I thought you of all people would appreciate a few tactics. With you around, I need all the help I can get.”

“What?”

Okay, so that had come out a little too serious for Petunia talk, but then Virgil’s count was far smaller than thirty-two or thirty-four depending on how you counted. Early on he had tried to get out and about like his eldest brother, but honestly it wasn’t in him. He wasn’t a one-nighter like Scott. Besides standing next to the heir of Tracy Industries, tall and female magnet was like trying to catch moths while standing next to a bug zapper.

“Virgil?”

“Petunia was a goose.”

“What?!” It was choral from both Alan and Gordon and quickly followed by a “Virgil!” from Scott.

“She used to follow him around everywhere about the farm. It was hilarious.

“Yeah, well, Gertrude was goat and she once ate Virgil’s pants. He’s lucky he didn’t lose more.”

Scott and Virgil glared at each other across the heat cube while Gordon and Alan played eyeball tennis between them.

John just drank his chocolate, a vaguely amused expression on his face.

Virgil held his brother’s furious gaze as long as he could, but he had to bite his lip. The moment he realised Scott was doing the same, it became oh so much harder.

Two seconds later he cracked up laughing. Scott followed not a moment after and both of them laughed even harder when they caught sight of the expressions on Gordon and Alan’s faces.

Virgil laughed so hard he had to hold his stitches in place.

Which of course Scott saw and it drew the night to a close as big brother shifted gears into smother brother.

They cleared off the island leaving no mark behind. Gordon clucking like a hen and claiming death threats from Melissa Fisher if they left anything behind.

Making it back to the boat in the dark was easily done, but awkward and a little painful for Virgil and by the time he made it to his bed, he was worn out.

Regardless, he didn’t fall asleep immediately, despite the gentle rocking of the boat. Thoughts of what could be, what could have been and what he actually wanted bounced around the inside of his skull.

It took a long time for them to fall quiet.

-o-o-o-

End Day Two.

Day Three, Part One