#....next time i should probably give it visible thumbs

[azidoazide-art]

okay ive decided to try actually making a monster-sona thing (again). i like how this is coming along

[gumify]

20/20 feat. toji fushiguro ❝ BOYFRIEND!TOJI NEEDS GLASSES ?! ❞

now playing… blind by role model.

summary. after months of denying his deteriorating eyesight, your boyfriend finally lets you drag him to an optometrist appointment.

tags. boyfriend!toji x fem!reader, fluff, some suggestive parts, established relationship, toddler!megumi being the cutiepie that he is, boyfriend!toji being everything a man should be (hot, blind, and utterly whipped).

wc. 2.6k

note. I ❤️ NERDS

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤyou heard that right.

boyfriend!toji, who very clearly needs reading glasses, but would rather take his blurry ass eyesight to the grave before ever accepting it.

boyfriend!toji, who always — always — asks you to read the labels on his food for him to make sure he’s getting the right amount of protein in or whatever. (he claims the tiny letters make his head hurt, but you like to tease and blame it on his age. he never laughs.)

boyfriend!toji, who is never not squinting. it’s pretty easy to see why people think your partner’s so intimidating, considering the fact that his already daunting eyes are narrowed into slits 24/7. most people you encounter on a daily basis probably think he’s internally cursing them… not that he minds. even if he had 20/20 vision, he’d probably be glaring at them anyways.

you first notice it on a night you’re cuddled up and watching a movie with him. boyfriend!toji’s leaned into the corner of your L-shaped couch as you nestle your head against his broad, firm chest — lifting it momentarily to gawk at the devastatingly hot specimen of man currently tracing patterns down your spine with his calloused fingertips. his face is pretty much devoid of any emotion, as it usually is whenever he’s fully relaxed; but you notice his gaze deviate every once in a while from the television, his almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners as his jade irises go in and out of focus.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“turn the sound up, dove.” toji murmurs, too comfortable in his current position to even think about reaching for the remote. spotting the way your lips twist into a stubborn (but no less pretty, mind you) pout, he huffs. “... please.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“but ‘m too lazyyy.” you whine.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“so am iii.” he replies, kicking up the pitch of his normally husky voice to playfully match that of your protest.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“hmpf. aren’t you the man, anyways?” you counter, poking him in his pecs to emphasise your point. “all the labourful work’s on you, babe. ‘m literally just a girl.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“thought y’said we should abolish gender roles.” he drawls.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“… not this one.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“that doesn’t sound very fair.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“tojiii!” you roll your eyes, “we don’t even need to turn the volume up — jus’ read the subtitles!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ mean the size five ass writing at the bottom of the screen?” he scoffs, “i don’t have x-ray vision, dove.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“x-ray vision wouldn’t even—” you stop yourself short, choosing to save yourself the middle school science lesson and shaking your head at your boyfriend’s antics instead. “the subtitles are perfectly visible. you just need glasses.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“wha—” he sits straight up, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “no i don’t.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes you do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“no i don’t.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes you do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“no i d—”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“it’s past midnight, toj’!” you tut, “last time we turned the volume up this late, we got a noise complaint, remem—”

toji cuts you off by squishing your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pucker and planting an equally dramatic mwaaah against them with his own.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“do you remember why we had to turn it up in the first place, hm?” he teases, giving you another softer peck before releasing you from his grip. “don’t think it was the movie they were complainin’ about, dove.”

ugh. he always knows how to shut you up.

you make it your life’s mission for the next week to make boyfriend!toji realise just how blind he really is. and you don’t have to do much, seeing as he only further proves your point himself.

for example, boyfriend!toji asks you how many boxes of strawberries you’d like him to pick up at the grocery store one day. too immersed in your morning reading to give him a proper reply, you hold up three fingers from across the room. he comes home with five.

boyfriend!toji misreads a sign on the highway later that weekend — which leads to him taking a wrong exit, and the two of you showing up to your fancy dinner reservation half an hour late. you end up spending date night eating mcdonald’s in the backseat of his volkswagen instead. (greeeat.)

boyfriend!toji damn near kills one of megumi’s friends who’s over for a playdate the following week. the little boy’s mother had talked his ear off at the front door about her son’s plethora of life-threatening allergies — even given him a list she’d taken upon herself to print out beforehand — and he still managed to miss the ‘MAY CONTAIN NUTS’ warning plastered on the chocolate bar in bold red lettering. if you hadn’t come to the rescue, practically diving headfirst into the living room and snatching the confectionary from the child’s grip, you imagine his mother would most definitely have the both of your heads on a platter by now. (phew.)

so boyfriend!toji finally gives in, letting you drag him along to one of your optometrist appointments for a check-up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“this is dumb.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“just read as many letters as you can from the screen, mr. fushiguro.”

“… what is this, pre-school?”

“toji.”

the man slumps back against the optometrist’s padded chair at the sound of your voice, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a silent little hmpf before doing as he’s told.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“a, f, g, k… e, t, o, d, z… p, m, j, f, l — this is so stupid — n, r, s.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“good. now onto the next level.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“uhhh…” you watch your boyfriend’s everpresent confidence begin to falter at this stage, brows furrowing as he squints against the darkness of the small room. “m… f… c? uhhh, no — that’s an o. wait! actually — a d.”

you stifle a giggle at the scene unfolding before you, and he shoots you a warning glare.

“keep going, mr. fushiguro.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“that’s a… k… then a z…” you swear he’s just making up letters at this point, “and— the fuck, is that a hexagon?!”

with the click of a button, your optometrist fishes out a sheet of paper and slaps it down on the table next to him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“your prescription will be ready soon.”

boyfriend!toji, who picks up his new glasses the following week — a standard rectangular pair with black frames that you helped him choose.

boyfriend!toji, who quite literally tells you to wait outside as he tries them on for the first time in your shared bedroom, locking the door behind him as if he were going into some sort of top secret mission.

boyfriend!toji, who refuses to come out for the next ten minutes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toji, this is ridiculous.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i look like a fuckin’ incel!”

you give the doorknob another jiggle; yet, still, he doesn’t budge.

“unlock the damn door, fushiguro!” you huff, “i need to get ready for bed!”

a short pause.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“… fine.” you hear your boyfriend murmur. followed by the sound of his footsteps treading closer to the door, the knob turning slowly before he adds, “promise y’er not gonna laugh.”

you roll your eyes, “sure.”

and then the door peels open to reveal… well, what might just be your newest obsession.

the stark black frames do nothing to mask the stubborn blush tinting toji’s cheeks but goddamn, do they compliment the rest of his features well.

they’re not too chunky, nor too thin; just the perfect amount of thickness to emphasise the angles of that strong jawline, those prominent cheekbones, and the pair of brows almost always raised in sinister jest. his eyes also look darker, sharper — if that’s even possible — flecks of emerald in his irises brought to life by the viridescent sheen of the lens.

fuck, your boyfriend’s so hot.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ think so?”

you blink a couple times, too distracted by the man’s new look to realise you had voiced that last thought fact aloud. but if the way his subtle frown morphs into a shit-eating smirk is anything to go by, he’s most definitely caught on to the effect it has on you.

and oh, does he love it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“cat got your tongue, dove?” toji hums, the hellish glint in his eyes magnified by the lenses. “c’mooon, say something. y’er lookin’ at me like i’m a piece of damn meat.”

it’s true.

you should be ashamed of the way you’re blatantly staring at him as if you’re a hormonal middle schooler catching a glimpse of the opposite gender for the first time — but you can’t find it in yourself to care. not when your man looks this fine. and certainly not when it’s already taking everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping onto the ground and drooling all over the place.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“still nothin’?” toji pouts mockingly. “aw, y’er breakin’ my heart here. don’t tell me my girl doesn’t want me anymore?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“shut up, toj’.”

he pushes the glasses further up the bridge of his nose. a statement.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“or you must reaaally like ‘em, huh? got ya’ all speechless and i didn’t even do anything. but i bet you’d just looove to—”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toji.”

he raises a brow. a challenge.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“bed. now.” you blurt out, much to the protest — or could it be encouragement? — of your own deafening pulse. you bite your lip before adding, “… n’ keep the glasses on.”

again, toji smirks. that goddamn smirk.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“yes, ma’am.”

truth be told, neither you nor boyfriend!toji could have anticipated the effects of a pair of measly glasses. (five rounds, then another two in the shower, actually.) but one thing’s for certain — now, he wears them around with a newfound pride.

the first time boyfriend!toji comes home from a particularly challenging job not only battered and bruised, but battered and bruised in his equally damaged glasses, your eyeballs almost pop out of their fuckin’ sockets. he stands in the doorway with his chest heaving; one of the lenses of his glasses cracked; slashes of crimson adorning his brow, cheek, and even that signature scar decorating his now-bloody lips. you have no idea whether to feel concerned, or truly deplorable amounts of turned on — probably a little bit of both. and that you most definitely are.

when boyfriend!toji lets you pick out his outfit for dinner at your parents’ house, you’re practically bouncing off the walls in excitement. you land on a safe option — a creamy knit sweater that hugs his muscular build oh-so deliciously, paired with some black slacks and, of course, his glasses. he looks so… sophisticated like this, you think. so handsome. you can barely keep your eyes off him for more than two seconds as he helps your father clear the table and converses with your mother over a glass of merlot.

and don’t even get you started on megumi’s recently developed habit of climbing atop boyfriend!toji’s lap to toy with the frames in his lil’ hands. the sight alone is enough to make you melt — every. single. time. and even more so when the kid decides to steal the glasses off of his father to wonkily place them on himself, giving you a gap-toothed grin across the room as you feel your heart swell at the uncanny resemblance.

see, these are only some of the very many reasons you happen to love boyfriend!toji’s new at-home look… though for him, it all comes down to one thing.

boyfriend!toji comes to this epiphany a couple of weeks after his first trip to the optometrist. megumi’s sleeping over at a friend’s place, so you and him decided to make the most out of the free night. namely, by hitting a swanky new speakeasy in town and letting loose for once in a blue moon.

alas, boyfriend!toji’s not the drinker he used to be — which means you’re nursing the man back home after no more than three and a half whiskey highballs at the ripe ol' time of 10pm.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“fuuuck, my head’s spinnin’.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“ya’ big baby.” you tease, earning a distasted scowl from your boyfriend. “okay, okay - where are your glasses? ‘s not helping that you can’t see straight enough sober.”

toji barely manages an “mph.” in reply, murmuring something that vaguely sounds like “— bedroom… top drawer…” before slumping against the couch like a giant ragdoll.

by the time you return with his glasses in hand, he’s still letting out tipsy grumbles into the empty air. drama queen, you think, walking up ‘til you’re right in front of him and bending down to meet him at eye-level from his position on the couch to slide them into place yourself.

your heart does the usual thing it does whenever you see toji in his glasses — or toji at all, for that matter — and the way he’s looking at you through his thick lashes and heavy-lidded gaze isn’t helping.

immediately, something clicks.

toji’s eyes widen enough behind the lenses for you to see his pupils dilate, and before you know it, he’s got your face cradled in his hands.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“toj’—”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“my god, woman…”

he’s nothing short of mystified. your brows knit in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour, but he’s too lost in his own mind — in you — to offer any sort of explanation.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“have you always been this pretty?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“w— what?”

you’re unable to suppress the giggle forming in your chest at toji’s words, but he’s being dead serious. you cock your head to the side ever so slightly and he gifts you with a light peck on the corner of your lips.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i mean it.” he says so sincerely it almost makes you wonder what the fuck has gotten into him. (most probably the highballs, but you digress.)

he doesn’t even look tipsy anymore. well, not on the alcohol, at least. he pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose, the stare framed oh-so prettily behind them now beyond blown out. his hands are so big yet so gentle; able to ghost the slopes of your facial features with his thumbs whilst still keeping your face still and focussed on him at the same time.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“y’make me feel so lucky, dove…”

you start to shy away under the intensity of it all, but toji doesn’t let up. his eyes are everywhere — it’s as if he’s searching for something; or, better yet, memorising it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen…”

it’s been too long since he’s gotten a chance to look at you; really look at you — the subtle beauty marks that sprinkle your skin, the lines decorating the outer corners of your pretty eyes and lips that serve as a testament of all the times he’s made you smile, and all the other tiny details that make you… well, you — in all of your 20/20 glory.

it always feels like the first time.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ“i love you s’much, my beautiful girl.” he kisses the words into your skin, each one as reverent as the last. “never forget it.”

boyfriend!toji, who makes sure to get his eyes checked at least twice a year now — because there’s no chance in hell he’s letting himself miss out on any of this again. ㅤ

© GUMIFY 2024 do not steal, replicate, or modify my work.

[autisticlancemcclain]

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

———

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

[mypearlsareclutched]

I Can't Survive

High By The Beach | Chapter Six

Modern!Aegon II x Original Female Character, Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

After what happened on the beach, Mila is left wondering how this will effect her friendship with Aegon, and what this could mean for her future amongst the various Targaryens. But when she goes to sleep at night, whose blue eyes does she dream of?

Ain't nothing like the beach to get people feeling frisky. Is it just hot in Old Town or is it the She-Wolf and her scorned dragon bestie/ fuckbuddy?

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), PIV sex, Aegon getting domesticated, catching feelings, Aegon's tattoos, Modern!Westeros has big Tesco, if you're not British you won't get the big Tesco hype, beach vibes, prescription meds, smut, fuckin on the floor, oral (m receiving), fingering, body worship, fwb relationship in progress...

Word count | 5.6k

previous chapter // next chapter

Neither of them spoke about what happened on the beach. Neither of them wanted to. Like the tide sweeping up onto the sand before drifting away again, the moment was there and then it was gone.

After a while, Mila had gotten up off of the sand and went back into the house, collapsing onto the sofa and dozing off like she was operating on automatic. Before she drifted off, she distantly heard Aegon shuffling about, the creak of a bed and his snoring through the walls.

When the sun rose, Mila's eyes cracked open and she released a soft groan. Her head felt groggy after smoking weed last night on top of her slight hangover from the day before last, and she was groggy and miserable.

Rubbing her eyes, her body jolted as she remembered what happened last night.

Lying on the beach, the sand in her hair, laughing with Aegon... his hair in her fingers, his lips on her, his name on her lips as she came-

"Shit." Mila whispers to herself, sitting up, "Shit, shit, shit!"

She runs a hand through her hair, feeling her nerves rising as she remembers more and more of what happened last night. Distantly, plans clatter together, indicating that Aegon is awake and making food.

"Oh, I'm fucked." She sighs as she stands up, "So ridiculously, abysmally, astronomically fucked."

In the kitchen, the object of her fucked-ness stands by the stove, scrambling eggs absentmindedly. From the bright light of the autumnal sun beyond the horizon, Mila knows its near noon. He was probably still shaking off the weed last night, like her. Or spent extra time in bed to ponder his woes about their situation. Mila internally groans.

Leaning against the kitchen's archway as casually as she could, she hummed in greeting, "No music today?"

Aegon turns his head to look at her, giving her a tight smiles before shrugging, "Seems so."

It's awkward. Mila feels her stomach plummeting as the silence lingers, and she gnaws on the corner of her thumb as she approaches the blonde man. His head doesn't rise again, almost like he does not notice her. But she can tell from the way he stiffens that he can sense her approach.

"Aegon-"

"Did you see the big Tesco down the road?" Aegon cuts her off, not looking up from his eggs.

"Um... no?" Mila says warily, eyebrows furrowed.

"There's a big Tesco down the road."

"No kidding."

"You don't like big Tesco?"

"Who doesn't like a big Tesco..."

"We need stuff." He shrugs, plating the food, "These are the last of the eggs we picked up at the services, AKA the only real food we have here. We need milk, coffee, painkillers, toilet roll, you need some socks, we should grab cutlery that wasn't made before 9/11..."

"How very domestic." Mila murmurs, looking at her feet.

Aegon sighs, putting the plate down as he finally turns to her. Mila looks up to meet his eyes, and she can see him visibly soften. He scratches the back of his neck, looking over her sleepy appearance. Mila takes a second to look over him herself, eyes roving over his tousled hair to his worn Beatles T-Shirt and grey joggers.

He looks good...

"What happened last night doesn't have to mean anything." He says, "I care about you very much, and I want only good things for you. I am well aware that I am not a good thing."

"Hey-" Mila interrupts.

"Nuh, shush, I'm talking, zip it." Insists Aegon with a hand in the air. "We were high, and tired and stressed, and if I'm being honest, I've wanted to bury my head in between your legs since the second I saw you smile. But nothing has to happen. It's too messy, it's too complicated. And I'm happy being uncomplicated right now."

"So... it meant nothing?" Mila asks, unsure of what answer she hopes to hear.

"No." Aegon smiles, "But what it means will make my head explode, and then my brains will get in our eggs." He walks over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Look, I... I just don't want to hurt you, Aeg."

"You could never hurt me." He says earnestly, "You're the best thing that's happened to me in a while."

Mila takes a shaky breath, letting him pass her on his way to the dining room. His smell hits her as he brushes past, causing Mila's knees to weaken beneath her. As he sets his food down, he smiles brightly again, as if their conversation never happened, "So, big Tesco? Half an hour?"

"Sounds good." Mila smiles weakly, grabbing her own plate and joining him.

With the limited clothes options, Mila decides to don a Gwayne centric outfit. His wild youth days must have truly been behind him, because all Mila could find in his wardrobe are very frat boy-ish, super tight jeans and neon tank tops.

"I bet younger Gwayne would think Aegon rules." Mila scoffs, eyeing a wifebeater covered in embroidered, glittery marijuana leafs.

She decides on choosing a blue, checkered shirt and a pair of washed out levi's. They both practically hung off of her, but she was not here to look sexy. She was here to heal.

And to shag her ex-boyfriends brother, apparently. Mila rolled her eyes at her own thought, rubbing her forehead.

Across the hallway, Aegon yells to her, "Ready to go? It's not a fucking fashion show, princess. Wear a burlap sack for all the rest of us care!"

"Piss off, Aeg!" Mila calls back, "Be down in a sec!"

"I'll be in the car!" Aegon groans, his heavy boots (courtesy of Gwayne's emo phase) stomp across the hardwood floors, the front door opening and shutting behind him.

With a look to the mirror across the room, Mila nodded to herself before grabbing Aegon's coast. A sudden jabbing pain in the centre of her head stops her, causing her to wince and press her hand to her head. Ignoring it, she heads out the house.

The car drive could have been avoided, as the Tesco was basically just down the street. But Aegon insisted that they wouldn't want to walk with their supplies.

"Are you planning on buying out a whole big Tesco?" Mila inquires, getting out the car and following after a practically-skipping Aegon.

"You don't seem to grasp the magnitude of big Tesco. Like, at all."

"You like big Tesco a lot, huh?" She laughs, finally catching up to him.

"Big Tesco is my holy land."

Once inside said big Tesco, Aegon was like a dog left to its own devices in a park. He grabbed Mila's hands to walk through the aisles, already getting way too hyped at all the different sections there were. He noticed a pharmacy nestled near the cosmetics aisle, and led Mila over there with a grimace.

Mila gives him a look, wondering what he could possibly need at the counter.

"Gotta pick up a prescription." He says, rolling his eyes as he leans his elbows on the counter. The pharmacist walks over, her eyes roving over Aegon. She gives him a flirtatious smile, and Mila has to physically resist rolling her eyes.

"Can I help you?" The pharmacist asks, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, hi, I need to pick up an emergency prescription, name is Aegon Targaryen." He makes an over exaggerated exasperated face, "Can't believe I forgot it, came on holiday and it just slipped my mind."

"That's alright, Mr Targaryen. Has this been prescribed by a medical professional?"

"Yeah, by three actually." Aegon laughs, "Dr Nettles Waters put it into some kind of emergency system, apparently. It's called something funny- Lor, Loz... Laura...? Lorazepam! That's it-"

"I've found it, Mr Targaryen." The pharmacist says, halting his rambling. Aegon grins as the pharmacist continues typing on her computer, "It says we need to write down a second name to verify. Your... girlfriend? needs to sign the receipt. Can I get a name?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at Mila as she slides over a form.

Aegon's face falls, "Oh, well- she's not my girlf-"

"Emiliana Stark." Mila states as she takes the offered pen and signs the form. Aegon raises his eyebrows at her, mouthing 'Emiliana?', and she glares at him.

"Alright, perfect, thank you." Says the pharmacist with a tight smile, taking the form with a hardly-hidden glare as she disappears to get the prescription.

"Emiliana Stark?" Aegon smirks.

"Got a problem with my name, Aegon Targaryen?" Mila teases, snatching the receipt and prodding his chest, "You owe me."

"My knight in shining armour." He smiles brightly, rapping his knuckles on the counter.

"I didn't realise you're on medication for anxiety." Mila says conversationally as she looks at the receipt.

Aegon shrugs, looking away, "Been struggling with addictions and the old mental health since I was like, thirteen? Nettles got it put into this system where I can get it anywhere in Westeros, how great is that? I mean, if I don't take it regularly, I can get into a bad head space. Apparently, I'm 'a risk to myself and others'." He rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively.

"Are you a risk to me? Should I be running for the hills?"

"You tried that, remember? I found you." Aegon winks.

The pharmacist returns, giving Aegon his medication and a small slip of paper. She gives him another flirtatious smile as she presses the paper to his hand, offering . Her phone number, nice going. Mila paints on a fake smile, crossing her arms. Aegon takes the prescription and the paper with pursed lips, thanking the woman before turning and walking away with Mila in tow.

As they walk away, Aegon slides the paper into the coat pocket of a passing man, unnoticed. Mila stifles a laugh, raising her eyebrows at the blonde man who smiles victoriously.

"Alright, now we can have fun." Aegon says, sending a wink to the pharmacist before grabbing Mila's hand.

Walking around Tesco with Aegon is like walking with a small, excitable child. Mila can only compare it to when she went shopping with Luke and Joff when Rhaenyra and Laenor went on a business trip. They definitely regretted giving Mila and their young sons access to their credit card when they came home to see their living room was full of bags of various sweets and pastries. Joff was in a food coma, Luke was bouncing on the walls, Mila was grounded.

Aegon is currently looking through the racks of clothes, trying to find something that would fit Mila. H alien sunglasses are perched on his nose, his second beatles shirt looking raggedy.

"You should grab new clothes, too." Mila states, taking a grey sweater Aegon offered her, "You can't just go around wearing your uncles band T's for the next... gods know how long we'll be here."

"I'm serving delinquent chic, leave me alone."

"You're twenty eight."

"Reliving my wild youth." Aegon smirks, grabbing her a couple of pairs of jeans in her size and throwing them into their already half-full trolley.

"I need underwear too." Mila sighs, walking over to the lingerie section.

"Hell yeah." Aegon wolf whistles as he picks up a pair of giant, beige panties, "These would look great on you."

"Shut up." Mila scoffs, pulling the material from him and tossing it back where it came from, "I'm suprised this isn't one of the places you're banned from."

"Don't jinx it."

Mila looks around , rolling her eyes as Aegon gives his opinions on various items. As she grabs a matching pair of lacy bra and panties, Aegon watches her, an unreadable glint in his eyes. She pretends not to notice, putting the underwear into their trolley, along with a few more sexier items. Nothing wrong with feeling sexy... Aegon clearly agrees.

They continue past the clothing section, walking around the food aisles as Aegon grabs various ingredients. Mila watches him as he dots around like stressed sports mom, his concentrated face eerily similar to Rhaenyra's.

"Should we get booze?" Mila asks as she looks at the wine.

"I'm T total." Aegon shrugs, "But I don't mind if you grab some." But Mila puts the wine back, resisting her own urge.

"How are we paying for this, by the way?" She looks at his growing collection of food, clothes, another pair of neon crocs, and a literal microwave. Aegon pats his coat pockets, pulling out a gold credit card. Mila furrows her brows at it.

"It's Viserys'." He explains.

"What?" Mila's eyes bulge out of her skull, covering the card in his hand, "Are you kidding? Stealing from your own dad, come on, Aegon!"

"Chill, Em." Aegon chuckles, "If he hasn't noticed it's missing by now, then he never will."

"How long have you had this." She demands.

Aegon counts on his fingers, pretending like he does not know exactly how long he has had it, "Four years."

"Aegon!"

"Lik I said, if he hadn't noticed now, then he never will. It's been years, most dude's would notice by now."

"He's basically a vegetable."

"Exactly." Aegon winks, pocking the credit card again, "He has like fifty, and he owns the most lucrative business in the seven kingdoms, he probably still thinks this is under one of his cadillacs seats."

"You're trouble." Mila sighs, pushing the trolley with Aegon in tow.

He follows after her, letting her push the trolley along. She winces again, putting her hand to her head. Aegon notices, furrowing his brow as his hand rests on her shoulder.

"How's your head?" He asks, concerned.

"Would it be wildly inappropriate to say 'I haven't had any complaints yet'?"

"Yes." Aegon chuckles, "Considering that the last person you gave head to was my brother, and the last person who gave you head was me-"

Mila shushes him, pressing a hand to his mouth as a middle aged woman eyes them from across the aisle, "I'm going to tape your mouth shut."

"There are other ways to shut me up." Aegon murmurs, his words muffled by her hand, eyebrows waggling. Mila rolls her eyes, half-heartedly punching his shoulder. He staggers dramatically, pouting.

"Drama queen." Mila nudges him out of the way, pushing the trolley as he jogs after her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he kisses her temple.

He kept a hand on her waist as she pushed the trolley, offering a conforting presence as the pain in her head continues.

"Here." Aegon grabs handfuls of painkillers, showing them to her proudly, "Theser will help."

"Hm." Mila smiles.

"Withdrawal is a bitch. Two days ago you went on one hell of a bender, your brain is kicking your ass right now."

"Feels like it." As Aegon piles more painkillers into the trolley, Mila grabs some soap and toiletries, before looking at the cosmetics section, "I'm getting makeup."

"Yeah, wonderful time to get all dolled up, Em." Aegon quips, watching her as she grabs various items.

"Maybe you'll let me do yours, make you look all perdy."

Aegon flicks her nose, taking her hand in his as he drags her away from the cosmetic section, rolling his eyes playfully at her giggles.

Once stocked up on everything they could possibly need, and paid for it with Viserys Targaryen's stolen credit card, the two of them headed back to the beach house.

They unpacked slowly, as it appears Aegon has short term memory loss and got excited with every purchase he remembered he bought. Mila watches him from across the kitchen, putting away boxes of pasta and rice.

"Oh! Almost forgot." Aegon says as he rummages through one of the bags, pulling out a little black box. He throws it to Mila with a grin, and she rolls her eyes when she realises it's a pay-as-you-go phone.

"What's this?" She asks, an eyebrow raised.

"A pay-as-you-go!" Aegon grins.

"I can see that." Mila laughs, "Why?"

"So you can call your brother." Aegon shrugs. Mila's smile drops slightly, feeling guilt rise in her chest as she remembers that Cregan doesn't know where she is.

"Oh gods." She sighs, tearing open the box, "He's going to be so worried."

"Hey." Mila looks up as Aegon stands, covering her shaking hands with his own, "Don't beat yourself up about it. It's been a tough few days, you've been through a lot. Just give him a quick call when you feel up to it. I've got to call Halaena as well, and my mother probably. But it's late now, let's call them in the morning."

"Okay..." She sighs, gnawing on her lower lip.

"Want a distraction?"

"Behave." Mila rolls her eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Stark." Aegon gasps, clutching imaginary pearls, as he walks back over to the bags. He pulls out her various makeup items, lifting them up, "Wanna make me all perdy?"

Mila's smile returns, putting the phone down and extending her hand to take the makeup from him. Aegon passes it over, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Sit down, Targaryen."

Aegon chuckles, sitting down in front of her. She decides to forego using foundation and blush, as the lucky Targaryen bastard already looks airbrushed, so she grabs an eyeshadow palette and looks over the colours.

"How does green sound?"

"Sounds very on brand." Aegon smirks, referring to the Hightower's obsession with green. Mila rolls her eyes, unwrapping a brush and rucking Aegon's hair behind his ears to get better access to his big, blue eyes. He smiles at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mila leans forward, swiping the brush covered in green powder over Aegon's eyelid. He flinches a bit, but she presses a hand to his cheek gently, and he settles down. She takes her time applying the eyeshadow, admiring all the little details of his face, all his microexpressions. The freckles across his nose, the small scar on his lip, his long eyelashes that are too blonde to be noticed at first. Every time she drags the brush along his eyelid his eyelids twitch, and everytime she caresses the skin of his cheek with the pad of her thumb, his lips twitch into a microscopic smile.

"Alright, I'm going to use white eyeliner to do little leaves next to your eyes."

"Cute." Aegon nods, keeping his eyes closed as she puts down the eyeshadow pallette down and picks up the liquid liner.

Mila presses her hand to his head to keep him still, focusing on the eyeliner. Aegon's eyes open slightly, looking up at her through his eyelashes. His eyes remain on her, focused on her biting on her lip slightly in concentration. A small smile appears on his lips, though he tries to hide it when she refocuses on his face.

Once she was satisfied with the slightly smudged vines and leafs, she hums, clicking the eyeliner shut as Aegon blinks up at her.

"Am I the prettiest princess?" He asks with a toothy grin.

"You are." Mila laughs, kissing his nose. It was ike second nature, even though they've only known each other for less than two weeks, Mila felt so safe and at peace with him. Aegon smiles up at her, his hand remaining on her waist as she admires her work.

Her fingers come up to tuck his blonde hair behind his ears, and he leans into her touch slightly. His eyes flutter closed as she runs her fingers through his hair, and they remain sitting on the kitchen floor, sharing space and gentle caresses.

This means nothing. Mila tries to tell herself, Nothing. Definitely.

Aegon made spaghetti, and Mila was once again pleasantly surprised by his culinary skills.

They chat pleasantly, joking around about their pasts and making wild plans for their future.

Aegon has decided he wants to be a tattoo artist, showing Mila the ink he has acquired over the years. Mila was most impressed by the dragon covering his hip down to his knee, and the golden retriever on his forearm. Sunfyre, Aegon explains, his smile slightly sad.

When asked about what she wanted to be, Mila had to think for a second. With a sad smile of her own, she just tells Aegon about her dream of wanting to open a bookshop. Since she was a little girl she wanted to have a tiny, old bookshop somewhere secret, her own little escape. Aegon smiles as he watches her describe her dream.

They're sat close enough at the dining table that their knees brush together, and as Mila goes on a tangent about her bookshop dream, Aegon's hand covers her own on the table, absentmindedly rubbing circles over her skin. Mila's voice fades off, looking down at his hand.

Aegon stiffens, immediately going to remove his hand. But Mila catches it, intertwining their fingers. They share a look, the air tense.

"This doesn't mean nothing, does it?" Mila asks, though she knows the answer.

"No." Aegon sighs, "I think it means a lot."

What happened between them on the beach was like the tide sweeping up onto the sand before drifting away again, the moment was there and then it was gone.

But just like the waves, it repeats its accent towards them.

Standing up from the table, Mila walked around it with slow, unhurried steps. Aegon watched her with an unreadable expression, body tense with anticipation.

Lifting her leg up, she climbed into Aegon's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands braced her hips, keeping her sat atop him. He looks up at her longingly, eyes wide. He opens his mouth to speak, but she shushes him, running a hand through his hair. He bums appreciatively, and she presses her forehead to his.

As she pressed her lips to his, the world around them disappeared.

Aegon's hold on her tightens a she kisses him, his large hands gripping onto her as a lifeline as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Their lips dance together, soft and romantic.

It takes Mila's breath away, her fingers coming up to run through the silver tresses of the man below her. Aegon holds her close, his tongue caressing her lower lip, asking for permission. She grants it, their tongues meeting in a sweet, passionate dance.

He stands, lifting her up gently to wrap her legs around his waist, waking her back towards the rest of the house before she stops him.

"Can't wait." Mila says breathlessly, "No bedroom. Right now."

"Fuck." Aegon groans, pulling her down to the ground, their lips reconnecting feverishly.

His hands pull up her shirt, crawling down her body to distribute open mouthed kisses across her belly and up her sternum.

Tugging on her bra, he stares up at her wildly, "Off, now."

Giggling breathlessly, Mila obliges, sitting up to pull her shirt off her head and fiddle with the clasp of her bra behind her. Aegon lies between her spread legs, biting long her waist, his hands kneading her flesh.

Once the offending lace of her bra is removed, Aegon pushes her back down, lying over her to kiss the skin of her breasts. His tongue dances along her nipple, pulling it into his mouth to suck on it gently.

"Fuck, Aeg." Mila moans, grabbing a fistful of his blonde hair. He hums around her nipple, his other hand caressing the unattended tit.

Mila bucks her hips up, feeling his hard length beneath his jeans.

"Clothes. Off." She demands, pushing his chest so he can be rid of his shirt. Aegon complies, sitting on his haunches to lift off his shirt. Once it is gone and discarded to the side, Mila focuses on his torso.

Aegon's face flushes, clearly unused to being seen naked lately. Mila eyes him, taking notice of his softer body. A year of getting better had turned his slender, borderline malnourished body into a healthier, almost pudgy form. It was clear from how Aegon stiffened he was worried she would be uncomfortable, knowing Aemond was lean and tall and built.

But Mila just wanted to grab onto Aegon and do unholy things to him.

She pushes him against the hardwood floors, crawling over him. He avoids her eyes with a blush across his cheeks, opening his mouth to apologise before Mila presses a kiss to his lips, her hands running over his cheeks before descending down his neck and shoulders. As her finger tips drag along his pale skin, her lips follow. Aegon shudders as she lays butterfly kisses over every inch of skin.

"Beautiful." Mila murmurs, kissing the soft spot between his pecks. He groans, and she moves her lips over to his nipples. As she begins biting and licking them, her hand travels further down south to palm his bulge.

Aegon chokes out a gasp, squirming below her as she pays attention to his sensitive nipples whilst she cups him in her hand, "Fuck, Mila, please..."

"Please what, baby?"

"I... I need you." Aegon admitted, "Like, right now."

Mila grins, pressing another kiss to his collarbone before moving further down his body, unbuckling his belt with deft fingers. Above her, Aegon breathes heavily, watching her with blown out pupils.

She frees his cock, taking her lower lip between her teeth as she watches it slap against his stomach, hard and flush and leaking. Mila has to resist moaning at the sight, leaning over and licking Aegon's cock from base to tip. Aegon groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Mila wraps a hand around his the base, her other hand smoothing over Aegon's thigh as she takes the tip between her

Writhing, Aegon's hand reaches down to collect Mila's curls into his fist, holding it away from her face so he can watch her. His lips release groans and breathy praises.

"Gods, feel so good."

"Just like that, baby."

"So beautiful, taking my cock in your mouth like a pro."

Mila eats up the praises, sucking his member with more fervour. Spit pools around his base, rolling down his balls.

"Baby, baby, stop." Aegon pleads, and Mila raises her head instantly. Giving him a concerned look, she runs a hand over his thigh as he holds one arm over his eyes, chest heaving.

"Are you okay, Aeg?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Aegon chuckles breathlessly, "You're just... too good, I can't lie. Was about to cum like some kind of inexperienced teenager."

"Nothing wrong with that." Mila smiles, nuzzling her cheek against his thigh, "You made me finish pretty quickly on the beach."

"Yeah but you're a girl, I could make you finish like fifty times tonight and I'll be out for the count after one. Especially with that mouth of yours."

"Is that your plan? Making me cum fifty times tonight?"

"No." Aegon says, pulling his arm from his eyes to look down at her, "I plan to make you cum fifty times . Then, I' going to sleep, and then i'll make you cum at least another thirty times before dawn."

"Cocky."

"Experienced." Aegon sits up, cupping her cheeks to lift her up for a kiss, wrapping an arm around her. They kiss before separating to tear off their jeans', Aegon sliding them down his thighs as Mila shucks hers off and tossing them as far as she can throw them.

She practically pounces back onto him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him on top of her.

"Shit." Aegon stops, lifting himself up, "We don't have condoms."

"I have an IUD." Mila smiles, pecking his cheek, "And I got checked a week before I went to . I'm clean."

Aegon grins, pursing his lips appreciatively as he resumes kissing along her collarbone. Mila playfully tuts at his silence, dragging a nail over his shoulder.

"What about you?" She asks, "Are you clean, Mr Man-Whore?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. Does syphilis just go away?"

"You're so not funny."

"I'm hilarious." Aegon groans, hiking her legs up his waist as he attaches himself to her neck again, "But I am clean. I fucked around but never without protection. I was a sensible man-whore."

"You're about to fuck without protection now." Mila says with a raised eyebrow.

"This is different." He insists as he reaches down to line himself with her entrance.

Mila takes a sharp breath as she feels the hot tip of him press against her, coating itself in the wetness found in her most intimate place. Aegon takes a sharp breath at the feeling, rubbing his tip along her slit teasingly.

"So wet." Aegon praises, biting his lip as he looks her in the eyes, "All this for little old me?"

"Don't get cocky now." Mila chuckles breathlessly, though it turns into a low moan as he pushes into her, spearing her on his fat cock.

"If you keep making noises like that, my ego will never recover." He murmurs, though his eyes fall down to where they join, his breaths heavy as he pushes further and further in.

As his hips meet hers, Mila lets out a shaky moan, feeling so full. Aegon places his hand over her cheek, pulling her face so she looks him in the eyes, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... feels good." She smiles, her own hands running through his hair and over his shoulders. Aegon practically purrs, nuzzling his head into her neck as he pulls out and thrusts back in gently, causing them both to gasp out.

"Shit..." Aegon sighs, grabbing her hips to hold her in place as he fucks into her, pace quickening with every jolt of ecstasy their coupling brings them. Mila wraps her legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts with her own movements of her hips.

Aegon's grip on her hips tightens, his fingernails pressing screscent shaped indents into her flushed skin as he keeps every inch of both of their bodies attached, fucking her with small, hard thrusts to keep her warmth pressed to him.

"Feels s'good." Aegon groans, lifting his head up to watch Mila's face, every pleasured contort of her face motivating him to fuck her better, grinding his pelvis against her clit.

"Oh, fuck, Aeg..." Mila sighs, eyelids fluttering.

"Need more, baby?" He asks, kissing her cheek. She nods, and Aegon smirks, "Harder or faster?"

"Harder... and faster..." She breathes, a small smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

"Good girl."

Aegon grabs her ankles, pushing them up to rest on his shoulder as he leans his head down and begins thrusting into her faster with urgency. She moans loud, arching her back as his cock finds her g-shot, pummelling it with every sharp thrust.

"Fuck, right there, just like that..." Mila rambles, one hand gripping onto Aegon's waist and the other twisting into his hair.

Aegon groans, his fingernails scratching across the floorboards as he tries to find purchase, fucking into her wildly. Leaning further down, and pushing Mila's knees further down in the process, Aegon rests a hand next to her head, the other reaching down to flick at her clit.

Mewling, Mila shudders as she peaks, her eyes fluttering closed as her cunt clenches around Aegon. He groans as he feels her tighten, smiling wildly at her.

"There you go, pretty girl." Aegon breathes, "Look at you. Such a mess on my cock. I'm not done yet, sweetheart, I know you can give me another one."

Mila gasps as he continues to pound into her, his deft fingers playing with her clit and making her see stars, her body overwhelmed by pleasure. She shakes her head, gasping and moaning beneath him.

"I can't, I can't..." She insists, though her body pushes through overstimulation and creeps closer and closer to another orgasm.

"Yes you can beautiful. I can feel it, you're doing so well. Gonna make you cum again, aren't I?"

"Yes! Yes, please, fuck!" Mila whines, tears shining her eyes as she looks up at the beautiful sight of Aegon fucking her, "You feel so good, Aegon."

"Fuck..." He breathes, eyes rolling back as his hips stutter at the sound of his name on her lips, "Gods you're too good. Gotta feel you cum again, feels so fucking good when you cum on my cock, baby. You gonna cum for me?"

Mila nods vigorously, gripping onto Aegon's forearm beside her as her climax gets closer and closer. With a scream of his name, she coats him in herself as she finished for the second time.

Aegon leans back slightly, sitting on his haunches as he holds her knees over his hips, pulling her onto him over and over as he gets closer to his own end. He hangs his head slightly, mouth agape as his stomach flexes with the effort. After a few more pumps, he shudders and groans out Mila's name, pumping her full of his spend with three more shaky thrusts.

Sated, Aegon collapses against Mila, his head resting in the crook of her neck. His cool breath fans her heated neck, and she runs a hand over his ruffled hair as she closes her eyes and catches her breath.

She can feel him place a gentle kiss on his shoulder, his hands soothing over the indents his nails made on her hips and thighs. Mila

"Now, I'm not so good with numbers..." Aegon pants, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at Mila. She raises an eyebrow, pushing some of her hair off of her sweaty forehead. Aegon drags his lips down her stomach, eyes twinkling, "You're at two orgasms, you better keep count..."

AN// Horniness wins again. Hope y'all don't mind the slightly chubby Aegon aspect of this, I'm just such a whore for that. Let me know what you think! Next chapter is currently being edited and then it'll be out sooooon!! Mwah <3

Lula x

[satoruoo]

VIA VIA VIA HEAR ME OUT. secret santa b they get u and accidentally spill it / the big reveal…

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA - aki hayawaka

summary: despite aki's best efforts to keep your gift a secret, his (stupid) roommates somehow manage to spoil the surprise.

genre: fluff, non-devil au, everyone is happy, crack

warnings: swearing, denji, f!reader, suggestive

notes: hope u like it babe !! this is my apology for the recent aki slander 😈🔥

now playing: rockin' around the christmas tree - brenda lee

"for the millionth time, do not tell [name] i got her, understood?"

denji and power sit crossed-legged on the floor, looking only half interested in what aki is saying. they're dressed in christmas gear from head to toe, heads swaying slightly to the christmas music coming from the record player.

power looks awfully happy with the pair of antlers that denji unwillingly brought her from the store after she threatened to throw a fit in the middle of the aisle. they're decorated with little bells, and every time she nods her head, aki can visibly tell how delighted she is from the jingles that they make. she now refuses to take them off.

denji's gone for a more traditional approach, sporting a santa hat with a light up pom pom at the end.

(the hat also says "ho! ho! ho!" if the button on the left is pressed, but denji had overused it so much that aki cut it open and took out the speaker. he then burnt the speaker. denji was told told it must have broken.)

"duh, i ain’t a snitch!" denji claims, saluting his roommate with a shit-eating grin. he would snitch, aki is fully aware of that. bribe him with a lollipop or a tit squeeze? done deal.

"why are we not allowed to tell her?" power asks, fiddling with rudolph's nose on her christmas jumper.

aki audibly groans, fingers working at his temples in exasperation. "because, it’s a secret santa. we aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we got."

power's face twists in mild disgust, "what is the point of that?! just give me my present now!"

aki rolls his eyes, raking his fingers through his dark hair, "because it builds the suspense, power. do you want to have all your gifts now and have none on christmas day?"

she seems to quieten at that, closing her eyes as she mulls over his words. after three agonizing seconds of her silence and aki wondering whether it'd be easier to just throw himself out of the nearest window, power pouts and nods.

denji dramatically sighs before aki can say anything further, slapping her twice on the back in an attempt to comfort her, "i feel ya, powey."

the girl mirrors the sigh, slumping against denji as she flips aki off with a scowl.

"you should thank me, human! i will not go and tell [name] that you have her!" she declares smugly, resting her body weight on the male next to her.

aki vaguely hears "ow, fuck! power, y’re crushin’ me! how the fuck are ya so heavy?!" and a loud slap that probably came from power as he walks away.

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki really does try his hardest to keep the secret.

he finds himself slapping a hand over denji's mouth when he almost lets it spill, and shoving a piece of food into power's when the topic of the secret santa comes up.

it's only halfway through december. he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. he can tell you're starting to pick up on something fishy and it's beginning to stress him out.

"and so aki has-"

"what are you doing?"

power freezes up at the sound of aki's voice, head lifting from your lap as she scrambles to defend herself.

"nothing!" she says a pitch higher than usual.

your eyes narrow at aki who sends a subtle glare in power's direction before taking a seat beside you on the couch. you're immediately taking his hand in yours, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe his anger.

the man melts so quickly that it should be embarrassing, shoulders relaxing with a simple touch.

"she was telling me about secret santa," you fill in gently, "something about who everyone has."

power wishes she was dead.

the glare that aki gives her makes certain that she'll be banned from chocolates for at least a week. that's practically the same as death.

"was she now?" aki asks, an angry rumble in his throat.

the girl is looking at anything but his face; when had the wall become so interesting? look at that, is that a new vase? what are denji's pornos doing on the floor-

"why don't you tell both of us, power?"

before anything else can be said, she shoots up from her spot on the couch sweating bullets.

"meowy needs to shit!" is all she says before leaving the room at hurricane speeds. (if only she were that quick to close her mouth.)

you smile, turning to look at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"so?" you question, idly threading your fingers through his.

"so, what?" aki responds.

he can tell from the way a small laugh escapes those pretty lips that playing dumb isn't going to work.

"nothing, just a bad day." he tries, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"you're snapping at power because of a 'bad day'?" you state, scepticism evident in your tone. "righhhht."

aki chuckles into your flesh, placing a chaste kiss there before pulling away. "yeah, that's all."

you press a kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over his. "sure, okay. i'll let you have this one, handsome."

the edges of his mouth tip up at the nickname and silent relief fills his veins at the clarification that you won't push the matter.

"thanks, love."

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki swears on his life that he tries his hardest to keep the secret.

it's just that denji and power are not good secret keepers. they're a pair of loudmouths who are easily bribed. if not for your presence to keep him sane, aki's sure he would have strangled denji and confiscated power's antlers. actually, he's sure that if the gift he'd gotten you wasn't so important, he'd have let his roommates tell you already.

"makima, c'monnnn! i licked the floor so ya owe me a tit squeeze!" denji whines in a kneeling position on the floor.

going out for christmas lunch with you, his two roommates and makima may be one of the best and worst decisions aki's ever made in his life.

power still has her antlers on with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, you had to persuade her to wear it, as she makes fun of her friend. there are still remnants of the snowball fight he was forced to engage in on her coat, and her nose is pink from the one denji threw in her face.

denji is as desperate as ever - shame didn't seem to find a place in his vocabulary. his purposefully broken santa hat is still finding a home atop his dirty blonde hair, though the pom pom looks like it's about to give up and fall off.

you on the other hand look ethereal in his eyes, a smile etched into your gorgeous features. with every small giggle that escapes your lips, aki feels his chest constrict almost painfully, heart thumping loudly within his ribcage.

you're still holding his hand; you have been for the past three hours.

"only if you tell me who aki has for secret santa, denji." makima answers, voice silky smooth.

it's meant as a joke 100%. everyone else in the room, even power, understood the joke. curse aki for forgetting denji's inability to read social cues.

"he has [name]!!"

on december 23rd, the day before christmas eve, denji tells makima who he has for secret santa in exchange for a tit squeeze. typical.

there's silence for a while. no one really knows what to say. all eyes are on the dark-haired male who genuinely seems to be in the middle of a breakdown.

denji's all frozen up and fully ready to make a run for it if needs be.

"i already know he has me, though." you say, confused.

comically, multiple heads whip towards you.

"...you do?" aki breathes, annoyance towards denji disappearing as fast as it came.

"well if you didn't already know, you suck at keeping secrets, honey. i've known for ages."

part of him feels relieved. if you already knew, then technically he didn't fuck up. technically, it didn't even count-

"it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know."

"for real, bro. i knew ya sucked ass like in general but not at lying as well-"

denji will be dead by morning.

BONUS:

"your secret santa gift was an engagement ring?" power asks, mortified.

"what a shitty gift!" denji pipes up, "it's not even edible- ow!"

you chuckle, fiddling with the ring that fits perfectly around your finger as aki smacks denji's arm.

"really? i think it's a wonderful gift." you muse, "it'll last way longer than food."

"so what?! food stays in your tummy forever!" power argues with her hand pointing at her stomach.

"no the fuck it doesn't! ya shit it out, duh!"

their bickering falls upon deaf ears as aki steals a sneaky kiss from you.

"merry christmas, [name]. i hope we'll spend many more together." his cheeks are definitely not dusted pink as he says that. not at all.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Marks

(Masterlist)

girl help i can't stop making bonus content

this is set right around Part XIII, in regard to the “I should probably give you more visible marks.” comment.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, obedient whumpee, somewhat reluctant whumper, dehumanization, power imbalances, physical abuse, minor blood, brief drug mention, death mention)

==============

He got approximately ten million fucking emails calling him an arsonist, or telling him that the experiment is an accident waiting to happen, or asking why he was letting the A-bomb walk around off-leash, why he was letting the bomb walk at all. Accusations he wouldn’t dare repeat. It was all so stupid. Delta was good. Paris never worried about him fragging. But the appearance of insubordination was damning all on its own. It was not a good situation.

Unfortunately, the messages kept coming. From staff he actually respected, too. People he needed. He didn’t even know how word reached them that quickly. He sometimes forgot just how scared they were of Delta. It had never been a popular project. That night, he received many requests for him to be killed outright. Not fucking happening.

Fucking Nezu telling him what to do with his fucking psychic. He was more mad about that than he ever could have been at Delta. That was why he’d gone easy on him. It gave him serious pause whenever his wants overlapped with Nezu’s — sometimes enough to evaporate them completely. He really wasn’t in the mood.

Something had to be done though, by the time the next meeting rolled around. They had to know that Delta had been punished for it, that Paris didn’t just let him get away with everything.

Delta didn’t fight him on it — not that he’d expected him too. He kneeled in front of the desk like he’d been asked. Paris leaned back against it, hitting the pen a few more times than he needed to. 

Delta looked bad. That day had been the only time Paris had ever seen him cry — even weeks later, he hadn’t seemed to recover from it. His eyes were still so pleading, in a way they’d never been before. It was unsettling.

Paris readjusted the only ring he wore on his right hand. It was sapphire — and it was clean. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out. He tilted Delta’s face up a little, tucking the slick hair back behind the webbed fin of his ear. 

“Hold still.” He didn’t want to hit his eye by accident. The jewel was sharp.

He backhanded him hard across the face. Harder than he would have normally. It needed to bruise.

Delta’s head was forced sharply to one side. His hair fell back in his face, totally obscuring it when he looked down at the floor. He didn’t outwardly react, but his next breaths came out shallow and shaky. Yeah, that hurt. 

Paris cupped his face again, moving it back up to examine the injury. It’d landed where he wanted it to — a thin cut right along his cheekbone. He could see the spot where the bruise would form over the next couple hours. Delta winced. Paris gently smoothed over the flushed skin with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry.” Delta’s voice was quiet. It was all he would say recently. 

“I know.”

It was hard to be mad at him when he was so clearly repentant. When he was being this good about it. Paris released him. He’d planned on hitting him across the other side of his face as well, in the interest of covering all his angles. It didn’t feel worth it anymore.

“Hand.”

Delta placed his hand gingerly into Paris’s own. Paris tightened his grip around it, supporting the palm beneath so that it’d absorb the full force of it. Knuckles facing up. Paris reached back for the ruler left out on the desk.

It cracked down hard against his knuckles, fast enough that he didn’t really have time to flinch. His injured hand reflexively tightened around Paris’s in the aftermath; it was the only real physical reaction he’d had. His claws dug painfully into Paris’s hand, not yet breaking the skin.

Paris released his grip on the hand. Delta’s hand relaxed and the claws withdrew, but he didn’t pull it back like he’d expected. He just left it resting there in his grasp.

“Other one.” 

He offered it without resistance. Same routine. Paris brought the ruler back down over his other hand, watching as the first signs of bruising appeared upon them. He placed the ruler back down and released his grip on Delta’s hand. 

“Done.”

There wasn’t much else to do, really. Delta was always dressed in long sleeves and ceremonial garb. For the most part, only his face and hands were exposed on vanguard days. It was enough, though. His expression alone was enough. If he just stayed like that, he’d be fine.

Delta folded both of his hands back into his lap, bright purple and blue against the pale white of clothes. His hair fell messily in his face, but parts of his eyes were still visible. He was still looking at Paris in that desperate, shell-shocked way.

“…Easy. You’re fine.” Paris didn’t know what to say to make him normal again. “The sting will be gone in a few minutes.”

For the hands, anyway, though the numbness would remain. The mark on his face would hurt a lot longer. 

Delta nodded slowly. A small amount of blood appeared by the cut. 

Paris gestured for him to lean forward again. Delta did so, cringing a little. Paris pressed a tissue against his cheek to stop the bleeding. He sighed as it bled straight through.

“…You want a bandaid?” He offered. The bruise would still be visible beneath it. 

“Yeah.” His voice was barely audible. He took the tissue from Paris, keeping the pressure there. 

Paris disappeared for a moment, loudly knocking shit over in the overfilled medicine cabinet. He came back with the split bandage. Delta held still as he applied it over the cut, smoothing it out against his cheek. It was pale white, the same color as his clothes, standing out sharply against the dark blue of his skin.

“…Thank you,” Delta said quietly. Sweetly. It fucking killed him sometimes.

Paris felt something strange in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it. He made a small, noncommittal noise as he discarded the paper into the trash. 

Delta touched the side of his face gently with the newly discolored fingers. Bruises on bruises. He put his hand abruptly back into his lap when Paris looked at him, as if he’d gotten caught. 

“We’re done.” Paris waved him off, sliding the ruler back into the drawer. The pen was starting to kick in. He was getting lightheaded. 

Delta rose slowly, giving something like a curtsy before he left. Or maybe his legs were just unsteady. Paris didn’t really care. 

The door closed quietly. Paris slid the lock shut. He pressed his forehead against the wood grain. Definitely lightheaded.

……

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 3: Now When I Look In Your Eyes

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 9.4K Chapters: 3/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: You manage to distract yourself for long enough to make through the rest of the day, but when Klaue finally returns to you he still makes you wait, surprising you with something unexpected before finally making good on his promise.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Teasing, Smut, Dirty Talk, Reference to Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Nipple Play, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Begging, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (F), PIV Sex, Cock Riding, Cream Pie, Praise Kink, Needy Dom, Very Brief Fingering, Cum Eating, Porn With Plot, Reader is In It Now Kids, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

Author's Note: Hello, friends, and welcome back! When I tell you I'm very glad I split up this chapter - this was essentially supposed to be a chapter "prologue" of maybe 2k, and then, well, *gestures broadly*. Klaue wants what he wants, what can I say. 😏

The next chapter is going to be an undertaking (gala!), and I can't really give a timeline at this point, but it's at least outlined and in the meantime you can read their little holiday interlude (which I accidentally wrote first, lol) and it'll now be in order! ☺️

As always, thank you for reading and for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! 💕

✨ Read on AO3 ✨

Chapter title is from "Come Alive" by Cannons

Now that you're by my side I get this feeling, get this feeling Like I'm hypnotized Now when I see your eyes I get this feeling, get this feeling I just come alive And I've been dreaming of you Do you dream of me too?

Through every ounce of will you can summon you somehow manage to last.

After stopping by your room to quickly wash and change, you realize once you get back to the industrial sector that there’s not enough of your shift left to justify starting on any new projects, so instead you occupy yourself with busy work - finally putting away your station that was left in disarray after the tense altercation earlier, and getting rid of everyone’s scrap that's been piling up in the workspace.

Then you trudge through a layer of fresh snow to finally finish the inventory that you’d attempted to start two days ago before everything had gone to shit.

Even as you try to focus on the tedium of the various tasks you inevitably find yourself turning over Klaue’s request - his command - in your mind.

Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have done more than think about it, having really just been wanting to tease him (which you’re starting to enjoy doing, perhaps a little too much), but on top of the natural frustration from being interrupted, then being told that you couldn’t? 

He'd managed to find a way to drive you mad even when he was nowhere near you.

Waves of heat roll through you as you make entries in the log, and every time you move you’re growing increasingly aware of the slick sensation between your thighs, a reminder that you’re already making a mess of your fresh panties.

And, so? What do you want?

Besides whatever he’ll give you.

Besides everything.

A thick index finger slowly sinking into you, dragging and curling while his thumb rubs your throbbing clit until you’re shaking.

Another tick on your paperwork and you circle the total a little more aggressively than necessary, leaving a little tear in the paper, ink marking the page beneath.

Locking up the first cage you move on to the next, feeling as though plumes of steam should be visibly rolling off of you, and eyeing a snowdrift you wonder if it would draw too much attention if you just lay down on it face first. It seems like the only thing that might actually cool you off right now as the overlap of memory and anticipation has an aching heat wrapping around your hips and flowing outward from deep in your belly.

His thigh pressed against your sex, but now you're bare for him, the hair on his leg dark with your arousal as strong muscles flex beneath you, and this time you rut against him for as long as you want.

And he's the first man who's made it feel like it’s alright for you to want. Unafraid of your desire Klaue instead seeks it out, coaxing you to surrender to it, pushing you to admit that it’s yours until you can't help but take and then, oh, the satisfied darkness in his eyes when you do.

As you continue to work you wonder if maybe he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Does it make him hard to think about you while he deals with his men and speaks to important figures? Is he shifting and adjusting himself at the thought of how needy you must be but forced to deny yourself?

Or is he calm, knowing that even now there’s a way that every thought is tethered to him, not thousands of miles away but right here in the same building, waiting.

The idea of him being distracted pleases you, but certainly does nothing to help the throb in your core. You think about how easy it would have been to find a release when you’d stopped by your room, and now you're growing so distracted that you’re tempted to go back or to slip away into a washroom. It would be quick with how worked up you are and then maybe you’d be able to actually concentrate.

After all, how would he know if you did?

And yet a part of you knows that it wouldn’t be satisfying, not really. That same part that connects to the tugging desire to be good, that wants him to be pleased that you’ve obeyed.

So you shake your head and fall back on a trick you use to help curb your emotions when you’ve had to deal with shitty people throughout your career, starting to rhyme off words in your head - glow, tomorrow, elbow, tempo, Orinoco Flow. Gradually your mind begins to calm a bit, and after several slow breaths the ache ebbs enough that you’re able to focus back on the tanks and the clipboard in your hand.

Once you settle into a rhythm you manage to finish the inventory pretty quickly, even if can’t completely stop your mind from spinning a little, and as you lock everything up and head back to drop off the paperwork with Tom, you finally have to admit to yourself that you knew what your answer was going to be as soon as Klaue told you to decide.

Several hours later the sun has fully set when you open your door to the welcome sight of Klaue standing in the hallway.

You want to reach out for him, to grab his shirt and pull him to you, but for now you simply watch as he walks in and slowly shuts the door behind him and turns to face you.

“Did you have enough water?” 

You can’t help but huff a laugh that the first thing out of his mouth is to make sure you’d listened to what he’d said, even though he must be more than aware that all you want is for him to throw you onto the bed.

“I’ve been drinking.” You assure him, though you can’t help rolling your eyes a little. 

His gaze narrows, not questioning but still eyeing the half-empty bottle on your nightstand.

“And you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling like I might lose my mind if you don’t touch me soon,” you all but scoff.

“You know what I mean, darling,” he warns, sharp eyes flicking down to your lips.

For the love of god, please just kiss me.

“Still good, Ulysses, I swear. And I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not.”  you reply, sweetly frustrated, but you can’t help but smile at his concern.

He seems placated, but still doesn’t approach you.

“And did you work past your shift?”

You swear to god one more question and you’re just going to throw yourself at him, though this one still gives you pause.

It had been your instinct to, you can’t deny it, tempted to find more to occupy yourself so that you wouldn’t be quite so trapped with your thoughts. But you’d resisted, and once you passed off the paperwork there was no real reason to stick around.

“No. I didn’t.” 

You feel a little silly at the giddiness that follows your truthful reply and the pleased grin that twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“And you waited.”

These words are lower and there is no question in them. 

You’re certain that he already knows the answer, that he could tell as soon as he’d walked in the door. You’ve been antsy, unable to stop shifting on your feet, your restless hands unconsciously picking up your scarf from the table by the door and twisting the short fringe into tiny spikes during this exchange. 

“I did.” 

Slowly he steps toward you, plucking the scarf from your fingers and dropping it back on the table.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice drops, your breath hitching in anticipation when a hand lifts to finally reach for you.

But then he pauses, fingertips a hairsbreadth from your skin. Seeming to consider something he pulls back again and you have to bite back the frustrated noise that wants to escape your throat. 

“Come with me,” Klaue moves away from you, nodding toward the door. 

“I’d very much like to, thanks,” you think, the tingle of the near contact leaving your nerves buzzing, but while you're nearing your wit’s end you can’t help but be curious about what he’s thinking. 

Steeling yourself with a deep breath you nod wordlessly, but as you walk over to grab your key card from the bedside table you make a quick decision. Following the temptation of a thought that you’d been considering earlier you slide open the drawer to find something hidden within, quickly pocketing it along with the key and your phone.

Before you’ve gone very far, though, Klaue directs you to the canteen. You can’t say that this is what you were expecting but you wait quietly, curiosity knitting your brows as he starts to work one of the machines, hot water pouring over a black tea bag as he adds a packet of honey to the dark, steaming liquid. But then instead of drinking it himself he hands it to you.

“I know you didn’t drink enough water,” he chides.

Your mouth drops open though no words come out. 

You want to laugh, acutely aware that you both know the reason for the tea. Eyes wide, you glance around and even though you know that anyone who might be watching will continue on oblivious, when your eyes meet his heat flares between your thighs as you recall the tears that stained your cheeks while you gratefully licked his mess from your lips.

“Thank you.” Your heart races as you bite back a smile and finally wrap your fingers around the proffered drink, and then with a darkening look you feel a hand on the small of your back, swiftly guiding you on your way.

You really had felt fine but as you sip the hot liquid you have to admit that it feels nice as the honey soothes your throat, a frown and another swallow of your tea unable to tamp down the flutter in your chest that seems to match the sweetness on your tongue.

When you reach a familiar juncture you wonder if he wants to finish things where they’d started, but then you make a different turn and then another, leading you away from his office until eventually he stops in front of a door that appears to be down its own hallway. 

The cup freezes on its path to your lips when you notice the key card in his hand and the realization suddenly hits you: These are Klaue’s quarters. 

Oh shit.

It hadn’t even occurred to you as a possibility tonight. Not that you hadn’t thought about it - in fact you’d thought about it more than a few times - but you still feel like a deer caught in the headlights as the lock beeps and clicks open.

Your heart pounds as you follow him inside where you’re greeted by an insistent pinging coming from a workstation in the corner, and with an impatient sound Klaue walks to the desk with a scaled down version of what you’d seen in his office.

“Hm, I need to check on this. I’ll just be a minute.” 

You barely hear him. He could have very well told you that an Asgardian ambassador and the Queen of England were waiting for a video call with him and you’re not sure that you would have reacted. 

As you wait for him you force the analytical side of your brain to kick in and try to observe some of the details, noting that his room is almost identical to your own quarters, just bigger: An open layout, a closet in the same spot, but with something that could actually be considered a proper window. 

The main difference is the additional space akin to an office with the desk and electronics connected to several monitors, which doesn’t really surprise you: Klaue doesn’t strike you as the type to ever really stop working - at least not for very long.

Aside from the cool light emanating from the corner where he’s sitting the room is dim and unexpectedly warm, and as you look around your eyes inexorably stray to the bed (his bed), partially made, the covers and sheets a stoney grey and roughly pulled up to where crooked pillows sit against the headboard and- 

Jesus, you need to sit down. 

Unfortunately the only place to sit right now would be the bed, which just makes you need to sit down even more, and-.

Oh god.

Squeezing your eyes shut you take several slow inhales in an attempt to get your pounding heart under control.

“So..” 

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, and when your eyes fly back open you see that he’s finished, the monitors now sitting dark behind him.

“Have you decided, darling?” Klaue’s words are deceptively casual, belying the heat in his eyes.

He’s back now, focused entirely on you again, chin propped against his knuckles as his hungry gaze slides over your body, and you can’t help how your own eyes immediately stray to his spread thighs and the prominent ridge between them that’s growing evident even in the low light.

“I have.” You manage to keep your voice soft, but you can’t hide the tremble in your reply.

Pushing himself up out of the chair Klaue slowly saunters over to where you still haven't moved, stopping when he's close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, invisible tendrils of need reaching out for him, desperate to close the gap.

“And?” The word is low and breathless and sets your nerves alight.

Finding it difficult to meet his eyes your teeth catch your lower lip, a shy flush working its way through your body even as your desire flares hot again. 

“Well, it wasn’t easy.” You glance at him through your lashes. “I had a lot of time to think. And there are so many ways that you make me feel good.” 

As you speak he finally reaches out to you, fingers grasping the hem of your shirt and tugging it up until you lift your arms to allow him to pull it over your head.

“Go on.” Klaue prompts, leaving you to swallow a moan when he suddenly drops to his knees.

Looking up at you expectantly his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, briefly cupping and squeezing the curve of your ass before moving to your waist to seek the bare skin there.

“Well, I was thinking about…letting you watch me.”

Fingertips still in their ghosting path just above your waistband.

“I thought about letting you watch how I use my fingers to make myself come when I’m alone here. Alone and wishing you could hear me every time I moan your name.”

You can see that his breathing is going rough at your words, and licking your lips you continue.

“Or maybe…using this.” Slipping your fingers into the pocket in the side of your leggings, you pull out what you’d tucked next to your phone earlier, shining silver and not much bigger than a tube of lipstick.

Brief confusion followed by a sharp look of understanding flashes across Klaue's face as he realizes what you’re holding.

“A vibrator?” His voice is intrigued, a brow arching as he takes the small device from you and turns it over in his fingers, perhaps imagining you using it, writhing in pleasure yet unsatisfied because it’s not him. 

But at the same time you can tell he wasn’t expecting this, his expression coloured perhaps with a shade of disappointment. And that shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. 

He looks like he’s going to say something but holds it back, he’d laid out the parameters, after all. He’d told you that you had to decide how you were going to come, but he didn’t actually say that it had to be him.

“I thought about you watching me with this against my clit, until you decide I’ve had enough. Until I beg you to let me stop.”

You can see his mind working though he’s uncharacteristically quiet, the fingers of his free hand digging into your hip so hard it’s beginning to ache.

“But…then I changed my mind.” 

“Yeah?” Klaue’s voice is strained as he seems to go still as stone, hardly seeming to breathe now, waiting for you to continue.

“I want your mouth, Ulysses.”

A look of pained relief glints across his eyes before hardening back into a vehement blue, and without waiting for you to say anything else he roughly tugs at the waistband of your leggings, peeling them halfway down your thighs, and then with a groaned sigh his lips are suddenly pressed against your clothed mound.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Klaue’s breath is warm through the fabric of your panties, his tone indicating that it may have been less hope and more desperation. 

“Tell me why.” His command is the rumble of a distant storm that sends a shudder through your body.

“Because…I couldn’t stop thinking - I can never stop thinking about it, Ulysses, oh-” 

You gasp when his tongue is suddenly on you, pressing to easily part your cleft before sliding down to taste the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.

“Is that all?” He asks with an infuriatingly coy smile, waiting for you to continue. 

“I need your mouth between my legs, I need you to taste what you do to me, what just the thought of you does to me, oh my god-”

He rolls his tongue against your clit, the slick friction quickly growing rougher and more demanding. 

“And because…because I can feel that you want it too, and that makes me feel really fucking good.”

Arching against his mouth your words trail off to a moan, but just as pleasure begins to swirl hot and insistent Klaue pulls away, his fingers tugging your panties down as well, and your hands brace on his shoulders as he helps you out of everything.

“There’s very little in this world I want more, darling. I love feeling how wet you get when you’re desperate for my tongue."

As you watch his fingers moving it occurs to you that he often seems intent on being the one to undress you, calloused palms running over the skin he's revealed, that's his to reveal, eyes dark and riven with need as though seeing you for the first time.

Once you’re stripped down to only your bra he pauses, hands fitting around your waist, forehead resting against your hip. Warm breath washes over your skin and although he’s so, so close to where you’re aching for his touch you find yourself pausing with him, your mind growing quiet.

It’s a different kind of quiet from the way he so deftly empties your head with his fingers or his cock, every thought supplanted by pleasure. There’s still a trembling anticipation that can't be ignored, electricity buzzing steadily through the air between you, but for a moment you both surrender to the calm, hovering in that space between heartbeats.

Your hands explore the backs of his, playing over his rings, over the leather cuff on his wrist, and when they trail over his forearms you can feel the faintest tremble in his muscles as he holds you against him. 

Your fingers find a salt and pepper curl and brush it away from his face, needing to see him, the breath nearly knocked from your lungs when his shining blue gaze finds yours. He almost looks surprised, perhaps unused to your tenderness, but after a breath the crease between his brows softens as he leans into your touch. 

It’s not long, though, before the air begins to crackle again and with his eyes still on yours he shifts, slowly dragging the tip of his nose along your cleft with a deep inhale and a sigh, and just that warmth against your sensitive flesh has you whimpering, the calm quickly ebbing away as your aching need swiftly flows back in.

Your hips flex forward to seek more and your breath catches in anticipation of his tongue, but instead he pulls away, and before you have a chance to protest he's standing again, reaching quickly to unclasp your bra, sensing a crack in his composure in the brief fumble of his fingers as they work the metal loops. 

Now standing naked in his room Klaue moves in close enough that as you breathe the peaks of your nipples brush against his still clothed chest, and when he leans in you instinctively tilt your head.

“Tell me again.” Lips ghosting across the skin beneath your ear sends fresh heat to your core.

“I need your mouth, need you to make me come on your tongue.” You pause before adding. “As many times as you want. Please.” 

“That's right, you will.” Klaue replies, his voice low and tight with need. “Now, on the bed, darling.” 

Without hesitation you quickly make your way over to sit on the bed, the scent of him swirling around you as you adjust the pillows and settle back, and when you glance back up you're greeted by the intoxicating vision of Klaue standing at the foot of the bed, fingers frozen on the bottom button of his now open shirt.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you here in my bed.” He says with a rough sigh, fingers freeing the last button as his gaze slides up your legs and over the soft swell of your breasts.

“Can’t be more than the number of times I’ve thought about being here.” You admit in turn, a smirk beginning but quickly falling as you watch him peel off his shirt, muscles flexing beneath the ink that paints his chest and shoulders.

“I have to say, it seems I was right, Mot.”

“About what?” You frown.

“About how lovely you’d look, right there.”

Caught off guard by the sweetness in his words a reply falters on your lips, and you squeeze your thighs together as though it might help you to hide from the way he makes you feel. But of course he notices.

“Would you spread your legs for me, please?”

Biting your lip you meet his eyes and begin to slowly straighten your legs, sliding them down towards the foot of the bed before letting your knees fall open. At first it’s just enough to give him a teasing peek but the heat of his gaze has you helpless to keep yourself from him. 

Spreading your legs wider you pull your knees back and open, and when the cool air hits you exposed skin you’re immediately aware of just how wet you are, and not just your sex - you can feel the insides of your thighs have become damp with your arousal as well and judging by the look on his face he can see it.

Slowly you shift down a bit more, giving a little upward rock of your hips for his benefit as you tuck one hand up behind your head, letting the other rest across your hip, attempting to look much calmer than you feel.

Following to where you’ve made a lovely display for him on his bed he removes the last of his layers, freeing the deliciously thick curve of his cock to hang heavy and twitching between his thighs, and standing above you he tilts his head appraisingly. A flush of heat crawls through every inch of your body as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, then slowly sits down on the edge of the bed..

Reaching out a hand he lets his fingertips alight on your knee before dragging them up over the skin of your inner thigh, his eyes staying fixed along the path they take, watching intently as your muscles flex and quiver beneath his touch.

“Not my fingers, then? You’re sure?” Klaue teases, smirking when your hips cant up against the air. With significant effort you manage to drag your thoughts away from how good it feels, how easy it would be to let him relieve the ache in your core.

“YesI’msure,” you blurt in a rush, quickly reaching down to stop his hand where it hovers inches from your sex.

“Both hands.” He says quietly, eyes flicking above your head in explanation. “And keep them there. Understood?”

“Yes. I understand, Ulysses.” You nod, the vice of your fingers slowly releasing him.

Once you’ve tucked your hands up and between the two pillows you’re resting against, he seems satisfied and moves the rest of the way onto the bed, positioning his body over yours.

He’s warm and heavy and you can feel the grin when his lips find the hollow of your throat, your hips beginning to roll slowly beneath him, acutely aware of his hard cock nudging against the inside of your thigh.

“I’ve thought about you here like this for so long.” Klaue murmurs, his tongue tasting your skin, trailing slow kisses up one side of your neck and then down the other, making his way down your chest before pausing at your breasts.

Then you think you hear something else, something quieter, whispered against your heartbeat.

“Want to keep you here.”

But you're distracted by his mouth again before you can really register the words, overwhelmed by how you’re already trembling and clenching just from the drag of his lips across your inflamed skin, and maybe you imagined it anyway. 

When his tongue flicks over your nipple none of your thoughts don’t stand a chance, a moan immediately sliding from deep in your chest. He spends just enough time on each to leave them peaked and aching, but when he starts to move further down you stop him.

“No, wait! More please, please..”

You look down at him, breathless and imploring, arching your chest up to encourage him, sighing with relief when his tongue returns to swirl over the pebbled flesh, and soon you’re moaning again as he alternates from one to the other, kissing and sucking until you’re writhing beneath the solid weight of him. 

Just when you think you can’t take any more he holds a nipple between his lips, just the very tip of his tongue flicking quickly until an ache starts to build deep in your belly, everything growing hot and tight and then suddenly your back is arching hard as you let out a broken cry, and while his tongue continues to work a hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling there in a matching rhythm as your cunt clenches around nothing. 

It doesn’t have the same peaking intensity but it still feels like you're coming, like if he keeps doing this you just might, and only when he pulls away does the desperate tension finally release from your muscles with a gasp.

“Another night I’m going to find out how many times I can make you do that.” He looks up at you, his expression more than a little smug. “But right now I think it’s time I made good on my promise, don’t you?”

You’re unable to respond with more than a nod, still panting and shuddering as he resumes his path downward. Your skin shines in the low light as his lips and tongue lave along your stomach and over your hips, and as he finally reaches the juncture of your thighs Klaue adjusts himself, setting there so that he’s lying with his erection pressed firmly into the mattress.

He pauses then, using his thumbs to gently spread you open for him, his mouth hovering just over your aching sex to let you feel his breath before you feel his touch.

“God, you are soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

Before you can form any kind of reply he presses his lips against you, kissing just above your swollen bud, teasingly close to where you need him so badly that all you can do is whine for it.

“What was that, my darling?” He prompts you, gently taunting.

“I need your mouth on my pussy, please I needohhgod-”

He cuts you off with a flick of his tongue, then another, at first grazing you gently but then unable to resist he licks a hungry stripe through your folds, and the sudden slick warmth combined with the vibration of his moan through your cunt has you greedily rolling your hips.

Watching him as his tongue continues to move between your legs you can sense the tension in his shoulders gradually softening, that tension he holds as part of his natural state, ever curled and ready to react drains away as he gives in to your honeyed musk, his arms sliding around your thighs to hold you snug against his mouth.

You want to reach down, to run your hands over his neck and shoulders and through his curls, but you resist, gripping the pillow tighter in an effort to keep them where they are, not daring to take the chance that he might stop.

But then he does pull off of you suddenly, silently looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

“What- what’s wrong?” You pant, confused and trying not to be concerned.  

“You’re not a dream, are you?” Klaue murmurs, resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, plush beneath the scratch of his beard. He watches you for a long moment as though he were a parched man in the desert afraid that you were a mirage, and if he’s not careful he might lose sight of you. 

“I don’t think so?” Relief floods you and you laugh softly.

“No. You taste too good to be a dream.” 

Seeming reassured his mouth is on you again, lips soft and warm as they slowly, slowly close around your clit, and the gentle suction he adds now has your breath stuttering in your chest.

Your body begins to tremble, and seeming to anticipate it his arms tighten around your thighs just as you buck, keeping you in place as everything grows achingly bright and you arch against his mouth until you’re crying out, the pillowcase twisting in your fists as his hum of approval around your clit finally sends your orgasm surging through you hard and swift, pent up hours of thwarted desire finally finding its release.

And even when the pulsing waves begin to soften, he has no intention of stopping.

At times it feels like he’s trying to tease you apart at the seams, at others it seems to want to devour you all at once, and while Klaue has never been shy about exploring you he seems to relish taking his time tonight, soaking in your heat, teasing and licking every inch of you to find new patterns that make you sigh and roll your hips.

Your desperate pleas grow less and less articulate as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips so that he can grind your cunt against his tongue, and as overwhelming as it is you find yourself sinking into it. Letting the only thing you need be his mouth against the soft place between your legs you eventually lose track of how much time passes, simply focusing on the susurrus of heat and pleasure that flows out from your center as the sheets below you become soaked with your release.

Eventually when you start to whine and try to pull away Klaue sees fit to give you respite, suckling instead at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh until bruises begin to bloom there, and as his lips drag slowly across your skin you take the chance to watch him, your eyes catching the movement of his hips, his perfect ass flexing as he slowly ruts against the bed. 

He must be achingly hard now, and you find yourself breathless at the thought of the stain he’s leaving on the sheets beneath him. Fresh heat spreads through your core as you imagine how his cock is twitching and leaking for you, and it’s not long before he notices your needy movements starting to seek him out again, eliciting a whimper when he presses a soft kiss against your clit.

This time, though, he waits, letting his mouth simply rest gently against you, warm and soft and shockingly patient, until just as he senses you starting to fully relax he suddenly sucks your clit between his lips and you’re gasping at the heated pressure around your bundle of nerves, his fluttering tongue unrelenting until you’re his name is the only sound your mouth can form.

Even now, sweaty and blissfully exhausted as he chases the last twitches of pleasure from your sex, you’re surprised that you can still feel the heady swirl of need humming through your tender flesh. And yet, although you have no real desire to pull away, and even though he told you that he was going to decide when you were finished, the thought still tugs from the back of your mind that he’s given you enough.

“You don't...don’t have to keep going.” You manage to stammer between panted breaths.

Pulling his mouth off of you Klaue looks up, his beard and full lips glistening with your juices.

“If you think I wouldn't spend the entire night with my mouth against you warm, sweet cunt." He punctuates this with a firm lick that has a moan lilting in your throat. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to work a little harder to turn off that mind of yours."

It's tempting, god it's so tempting to let him continue. You can feel yourself growing dangerously addicted to his unabashed hunger between your legs, yet you can’t deny that there’s a growing need for something else.

Because he hasn’t even put his fingers inside of you, only his tongue occasionally dipping down to tease at your entrance, and you’re fucking aching for more, imagining the arch and flex of his back as he fucks into you instead of wasting it on the mattress.

So you tilt your hips up to give him a more open view of where you’re dripping for him, a soft whine in your throat.

“What's the matter, darling? Tell me.”

“You said- you said if I was good…”

“Yes?” His eyes are fixed on yours as he mouths at the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your hip.

“You said I could come on your cock. And I waited. Like you said.”

“Yes, you did.” He pauses, considering. “But you were a tease, too, weren’t you? Pretending you wanted your little toy.”

Shit. Of course he’d figured you out. Your mind spins quickly, trying to figure out a way to keep what you’d been hoping for from slipping away.

“But I wasn’t lying, I did think about that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you did. But it was never going to be what you asked for, was it?”

You suck at your lower lip to keep from pouting and you have to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

What the hell has this man done to you? You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come already and yet you’re on the verge of tears at the thought of not getting to fuck him tonight. But you hardly get to see him, after all. It’s not fair.

“No,” you finally admit meekly. “Ohh ‘m sorry.”

You whimper when the tip of a thick finger begins circling your entrance, but as soon as you tilt your hips to try to encourage him deeper he pulls his hand back.

“No, please, I need you.”

“Would you like to be a little more specific for me?” Klaue asks, watching your face intently as his finger slowly returns, and you know he can feel the flutter of your muscles as he dips teasingly into you.

“I need you inside me.” Saying it out loud sets an invisible spark alight, pushing out thoughts of anything else as your words continue to tumble out in a rush.

“God, do you have any idea how perfect your cock is? How wet I get when I think about you stretching me open? And I think about it it every fucking day. I need you to fuck me, Ulysses, need you to fill me with your cock and your cum, please I need you so fucking bad, I need you, I-”

The last words are cut off when your voice hitches, fighting to hold back the tears that prick hot at the corners of your eyes. 

Desperate with need you’re only dimly aware that he’s moving, shifting himself to the head of the bed so that his back is against the pillows and then he’s tugging you up, causing you to let out a startled “Oh!” as your hands quickly move to catch yourself on his chest, quickly reminded of how strong he is as powerful arms lift you until you’re straddling his lap.

The thick length of him is hot and achingly hard, and he sucks a breath through his teeth when he slides through your folds, parting your cleft until the head, flushed and drooling, bumps against your swollen clit.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Klaue hums with a satisfied grin.

You’re nearly giddy with relief as you feel another upward flex of his hips, a heated slide of skin against slippery skin, and then you press your mouth against his, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He responds quickly, his tongue delving into your mouth, your kiss deep and full of desire as the rock of both of your hips grows more insistent.

Bracing more firmly on your knees you lift up, allowing him to slide further down until your kiss is broken by a moan when his cock catches at your entrance, your muscles already trying to clench around him.

Impatient now you reach a hand down between your legs to grip him, gasping at how hot he is beneath your fingers. He gives you a stuttered groan when you drag the mixture of his precum and your arousal along his length before shifting to line him up with your opening, and then finally you drop your hips firmly down. 

Your head tips back with a sigh as you revel in the delicious ache of his girth slowly nudging into you, his mouth immediately moving to nip at the column of your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

“Needed my cock, hmm?” Klaue's voice pitches low. “That's good. I want there to be nothing else you can think about. Don't want you satisfied unless you're full of me.” 

You feel a fresh surge of arousal at his words, your slick already dripping down his cock as you rock down harder, desperate to fit him inside of you.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. You're the only one who's ever made me want to beg, Ulysses.”

His eyes darken at your admission, groaning as your walls clench around him.

“I'm a lucky man, then, because you're so beautiful when you beg, klein Mot.”

Bliss continues to spool out through your body, and you’ve been so distracted by the sweet relief that you’re just realizing that he isn’t moving, that there’s a tension in his thighs and in the muscles of his jaw as he fights to keep himself still, focused only on watching you split yourself open on him. 

Keeping your pace slow you allow yourself to luxuriate in every sensation, in the ridges of his cock as he slides deeper into you, the heat of broad hands roaming over you skin, dimpling the flesh of your thighs and then sliding to grip your ass, spreading you obscenely as you work yourself further down his length.

You’ve never been able to watch him like this and you’re nearly delirious from the sight, from the way he reacts to every flutter of your pussy around him, his arms flexing as his grip on you tightens in an effort to hold himself back. As you continue to ride him your own hands can’t help sliding greedily over the firm muscles of his shoulders, over the hair that covers his chest and belly and then down to where, although he’s softening with age, you’re still you’re keenly aware of the strength that resides beneath your fingers. 

But as good as this feels there’s a frustration building, because although it’s gotten easier to take him he’s still so much, and you’re struggling to take him as deep as you want. 

And judging by the look in his eyes, he can sense it.

“More,” you plead, the movement of your hips growing more insistent.

“What's the matter?” He asks with a wolfish glint of gold. “You said you needed my cock, darling. So take it.” 

His bitten words are harsh, lightning crackling behind his teeth.

A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins as your hands slide around to grip the back of his neck in search of more purchase, fingernails digging crescents into his skin as you rock down harder. You can feel a low growl that you slowly realize is coming from your own chest as you desperately work to take all of him, and determined now you don't stop until your hips are snug against his, every inch of you finally stretched and spread open on his cock.

Breathing through the ache of it you take a moment to savour the prize of him fully buried in you, moaning when you give a firm roll of your hips and feel the slick friction of coarse hair at the base of him pressing and dragging against your folds, your eyes slipping closed with a blissful smile.

“Look at you.” Klaue rumbles, his fingers reaching to brush sweat-damp strands of hair away from your face. “That's my good girl.”

Tugged back by his words your eyes flutter open again as you rise up and slowly drop back down, your breathing mirroring one another as you find a rhythm. When you begin to add a rolling motion in time with each downward plunge you’re gratified when his mouth drops open, head tilting back to knock against the headboard with a groaned curse, though he still watches you through dark lashes, taking in the pleased curve of your lips and the bounce of your tits as your movements start to grow rougher.

Because you’re not sure if it's the angle from being on top and him sitting up like this but every slide of his cock into is you drawing an intoxicating flush of pleasure, tension swiftly coiling deep in your belly and licking a path up your spine as your breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps, and already being so overstimulated you’re unprepared for how quickly you can feel your climax approaching.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His voice is rough with hard fought restraint. “Use my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

Sweat beads on your skin, threads of pleasure stringing tight as the first inevitable surge begins to build, but then your thighs flex and your back arches and with the change in angle and the way your muscles are starting to tighten around him he’s suddenly slipping from where he’d been perfectly rooted deep inside you and you can feel the heated pleasure pulling away. 

You were so close that you can’t get out anything more than a mixture of frustrated pleas, but then his voice cuts through the haze, dark and driving straight to your core.

“No.” Klaue growls. “Stay down.”

Gripping your hips tight he finally takes control, a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as he roughly forces his cock back into your clenching cunt, and startled by the sound that escapes you bite your lip hard, trying to hold it back.

“None of that,” he grits. “You're going to let me hear you, yeah? Because those lovely noises you make, they’re mine. The way my name sounds when you come, that's for me.”

Both of his arms encircle your waist and then you’re surrounded by him, by his grip, his voice, his musk, all of it demanding your pleasure, and your mouth drops open as you succumb to his command with a ragged moan.

Your thighs are burning now as you ride him, but with the edges of your climax gathering again you wouldn’t stop even if you could, and this time when your muscles tense and you buck suddenly against his grip he’s ready, powerful arms holding you in place.

You cling to his shoulders, desperate to hold on to something as you feel yourself tipping, the nearly unbearable friction against your clit drawing everything to a bright point, a silvery haze creeping in at the edges of your vision as you hover over the line between blissful agony and release.

“Going to come so hard for me, aren’t you?” His rasping words are more a plea than a question, rough from the rhythm of your hips as you grind helplessly against him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Finally you gasp a lungful of air as though hitting a shock of cold water and then the breath is forced from your lungs by a sob, tears you hadn't realized were pooling in your eyes spilling over as your orgasm crashes through you, his name falling in a tattered cry from your lips.

Your inhibitions are completely lost as you fuck yourself on his cock, chasing wave after wave of pleasure that rolls through your body and you can feel the rush of your release slicking the skin between you as you fall utterly apart, the heat of it only just starting to ebb when his gruff words bring you back to him, cutting through the din of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Mot don't stop. Need to come in your pussy, I'm-” Klaue stammers, his voice cracking with need.

“Ohh please,” you can only moan through hitched sobs.

Not able to thrust into you the way he normally wants he instead grips you tight, bracing his heels against the mattress and rutting his hips up as best he can while roughly grinding you down, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on keeping himself buried as deep inside of you as he can.

“Look at me,” you plead, your voice thick with tears and want.

Klaue’s eyes snap to yours, bright with the flame of a sapphire sacrament  and after a few more broken thrusts he jerks beneath you, the muscles of his thighs flexing against the insides of yours, his bruising grip holding you down until relief floods his features and you feel the first hard throb of his cock, your name a honeyed plea on his lips as he comes deep inside you.

The tension in your body has finally begun to soften and as you regain some control you force yourself to hold as still as you can, wanting to feel everything, to feel every pulse as he spills himself inside you, soaking in the delicious sound of every grunted sigh as the thick warmth of his cum fills you.

He continues to twitch and throb inside you as you both catch your breath, large hands beginning to soothe over your back and sides and then back down to your hips, a satisfied hum rolling through his chest as his touch follows the lazy cant of your hips.

Sweat damp skin slides against skin and your moan matches his when he grips your ass and rocks you slowly up and then back down on his still stiff length, and though he hisses at the overstimulation he does it again, and then again, until wet sounds are filling the room as you writhe languidly against each other, the sticky slick of both of your leaking out from where you’re deliciously swollen and sore.

“God, the only thing better than the sweet taste of you, darling, is how pretty your pussy sounds when you’re full of my cum.”

“Jesus, Ulysses.” Your reply is half moan, half delirious laughter. “You’re going to kill me, I swear.” 

He sucks a breath at the flex of your muscles around him when you laugh, though he still looks rather pleased with himself. 

“Just returning the favour,” Klaue teases, though there's a sweet edge to his smug grin. 

Giving him a watery smile you tuck your head down to rest your damp cheek against the slope of his shoulder, and when you start to work your hands between his back and the pillow he adjusts so that you can slide them around his broad waist.

Gradually you both grow still, the only movement for several moments is the rise and fall of your chests as you quietly rest against one another, the claw on the cord around his neck pressing into you to leave a mirrored indentation in your skin.

Slowly you nuzzle your cheek along the scruff of his beard, seeking every bit of contact he'll give you, relaxing further when the weight of his arms settles around your waist, and as you sit wrapped in each other you allow for the thought that maybe he's just as reluctant as you to untwine just yet. 

And that maybe you did hear him say it earlier.

“Want to keep you here.”

Still, you don't want to overthink what he meant, so for now you let yourself simply enjoy this, here, tracing the salt of inked skin along his neck with your lips, though perhaps still hoping that, for tonight at least, he’ll want to keep you a little longer. 

When you do eventually separate you're both still content not to get up right away, bodies relaxed and half pressed against one another, a hand splayed across a waist, hip and thigh meeting.

You're not sure when he does get up but as you drift in and out of sleep you hear Klaue in the shower, although you have no interest in moving yourself, not caring about the mess between your thighs enough to do anything about it just yet. You might even admit that you're rather enjoying it.

Eventually he returns to where you lie in a half-twilight, your eyes blinking open when the mattress dips beneath his weight.

“You don't have to leave, darling, but I do need to go,” he says. “I won't be able to come back tonight, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you'd like.”

Pushing yourself up you begin to protest but his mouth quickly finds yours, silencing you with a swipe of his tongue. The kiss is firm and slow, a hand moving to cup your jaw, working with his lips to guide you back down to the pillow.

“It's really no problem to go back,” you start when he releases you, “I can-”

He kisses you again deeper this time, a little more demanding, coaxing your mouth open as his tongue slides against yours until you’re wondering what your reason was for arguing at all, and when he releases you this time you can only look up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

“Rest.” He murmurs, a thumb drifting across your cheek as you nod.

Before he stands to go, though, he draws your attention to something in his hand that glints in the low light.

“I'll be keeping this here, by the way.”

Your mouth forms a silent “o” as you watch him tuck your vibrator into the drawer of his night table and slide it shut. 

“I forgot about that.” You whisper with a bashful smile.

“So did I,” he admits, his fingers tugging down the sheet that's covering you to reveal your naked form. “And when I did remember, I wasn't really in the mood to share.”

His hand coaxes a knee open, his jaw clenching when he catches the mess still shining between your legs.

“But you might not be so lucky in the future.” 

There's a glint of a warning when his eyes return to yours, but before you can say anything you’re gasping when he suddenly slides two fingers into you, thrusting deep before pulling back out and you moan when, instead of offering them to you, he takes them into his own mouth, a satisfied hum rumbling through his chest at the taste of you mixed with him.

You’re still staring at him half stunned when he stands back up, licking his lips as his eyes sweep appraisingly over your body, as though he's trying to commit the image of you like this to memory.

“And you say I'm a tease. Do you have to go??” You try not to sound too needy, though you're pretty sure the way your hips are shifting again gives you away.

“I'm afraid I do, darling. Believe me, if I didn't...” He gives a rough sigh, frustration plain on his face. “But I'm here for two more days, and I will be taking advantage of them.”

“I certainly hope so,” you reply, a lazy smile curving your lips.

He gives you one last look as he closes behind him, and almost immediately you can feel sleep starting to steal over you again. You don't plan on staying very long, though, and as you turn over and tug the sheet back up you tell yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few more minutes, however it's several hours later when you open them again and realize that it’s now late (or early, rather). 

Once you manage to orient yourself in the unfamiliar space you have to laugh, entirely unsurprised at this point that you’d passed out almost immediately.

After showering you actually don't rush to leave, but strange as it is to be here without him you find yourself unable to resist the chance to observe his room a little more closely.

While this obviously isn't a permanent space it still has details of him scattered around; you'd noted a razor and shaving bar next to the sink, one of his khaki shirts hanging on a hook in the bathroom.

You take a peek at a shelf by the door, full of books that for the most part you don't recognize or aren't in English, but you do spot Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein”, a small wood carved stingray next to it. 

Hanging on the wall beside the shelf there's a framed photo of the ocean that looks like it was taken by a 35mm camera. Is it from somewhere he's been? Did he take it himself?

Sitting back down on the bed you intend to check your messages but your mind still wanders. You wonder if he does have somewhere that’s…maybe not home, but a place where pieces of him might be a little more embedded, that looks and smells familiar when he returns from time away. Somewhere that he rests.

You know it's time to head back to your room so you can get ready for the morning shift but you’re hesitant to get up just yet. Glancing at the bed and the mussed sheets, your hand slides over the pillow he'd been leaning against, acutely aware of the scent of him surrounding you, and without really thinking you lean down and press your nose into the creased fabric.

Immediately you're overwhelmed by the heady scent of him that infiltrates your senses: His musk beneath the soap, sweat and a faint trace of oil, all tied up with the still present scent of your mixed arousal, and it's only when you take a shuddering breath that you realize you’d been holding back a sob.

Sitting back up your hand quickly flies to your mouth, breath caught in your chest as you blink away the tears.

Shit.

The intensity of it honestly doesn't surprise you anymore, Klaue makes you feel - seems to revel in making you feel - more than you ever thought you could, teasing away the layers, revealing pieces of you that you didn’t even realize had been hidden. 

“I don’t know what this is.”

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.”

None of this feels any clearer now yet there's a certainty settling in your chest, and it feels like that part of you that's been unsteady since you’d met Klaue in Utrecht is finally starting to right itself. And at the same time, maybe for the first time, you feel something unlocking in you, opening to the possibility of perhaps letting someone else help you find your balance.

So although you have no idea where this path leads, you're starting to accept that you aren't going to be able to stop until you find out.

AN: Once again, thank you so much for reading! 🥰 As I said this next chapter is going to be a beast (already trying to talk myself out of splitting it up again if it comes to that, lol), but I'm looking forward to continuing to exploring things between these two idiots, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

[longitudinalwaveme]

Fictober 2024--Aurora Borealis

Day 14: “Let’s Try This.” 

It's the Len Snart as a Green Lantern AU!

Len Snart was sitting in his rundown motel room, flipping through a newspaper, when a particular article caught his eye. It was about the Flash, the superpowered crimefighter who had recently popped up two years ago in his hometown of Central City—and who was sure to be a real pain in the neck. Evading the cops was one thing. All that took was caution and timing (although having glasses that could intercept radio bands from squad cars definitely helped). Evading a man who could run fast enough to break the sound barrier? Len was no scientific expert, but even he knew that that was probably impossible. 

Impossible unless there was a way to slow him down…and this article said that some scientist types were publishing an article on the Flash’s speed. If Len could get his hands on that article, maybe it would give him some ideas of how to evade even the city’s new so-called superhero. 

Len snorted. Superhero indeed. Superpowered cop was more like it…and where had the cops been when his old man took a beer bottle to his shoulder? Or when he’d gone after his little sister with a lit cigarette?

Lookin’ the other way, that’s where. Because his old man had been a cop too, and even though he’d been kicked off the force, he still had enough connections to get them to turn a blind eye. And like as not, the Flash would be the same way. Which meant Len was going to do everything he could to stay out of his way—especially since the Flash had been the reason he’d spent the last couple of years in the state pen. 

He’d look into getting his hands on that scientific article tomorrow. But for tonight, he was going to suffer through tonight’s Cubs game. Len reached for the remote and was about to turn on the TV when he was suddenly enveloped in a bright green light. His motel room disappeared, and suddenly found himself standing in a large empty field. Central City’s skyline was still visible in the distance, so he hadn’t been transported too far away, but that didn’t explain how he had been in his motel room one second and outside of the city the next. 

And it definitely didn’t explain the wrecked spaceship, which looked like something out of the science fiction comics that his grandfather had given him when he was a kid. So either aliens were real, or some weirdo had blown a ridiculous amount of time and money on pranking him. The only way to find out which was to go into the spaceship. 

“I must be losin’ my mind,” Len muttered as he made his way toward the crashed spaceship. For all he knew, this might be some sort of alien trap—but while he’d always been cautious, he’d never been one to avoid a situation just because it might be dangerous. If he had, he’d still be under the thumb of his old man. 

“Come in, Earthman,” a voice suddenly said. Len followed the voice to see a pink-skinned, yellow-eyed guy, dressed in some sort of green and black uniform. He was basically human in shape, but something about him told Len that this wasn’t some guy in makeup. This was a real alien—and he didn’t look so hot. 

“Who are you? What’s goin’ on here?” Len asked. 

“My name is Abin Sur. I am not of Earth, but of a far distant planet. And I am dying,” the alien said weakly.

“Uh, if you were tryin’ to call a doctor, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know the first thing about medicine. If you need help, you should probably use whatever fancy tech you used to teleport me here to teleport us to Central City General Hospital,” Len said. The hospital might not know how to treat an alien, either, but they would be a lot more likely to be able to help than some borderline-illiterate ex-con. 

“No. It is too late to help me. Besides, I must speak to you on a matter of great importance,” the alien replied. 

“You’ve gotta tell someone about somethin’ more important than your life—and you grabbed me?” Len asked. He was starting to think that this alien guy must have gotten brain damage in the crash. 

“Yes. Look at this battery, Earthman,” the alien said. He pointed to his right, where Len saw something that looked like the old-timey lantern his grandfather had owned—only glowing green. 

“Looks like some kinda…. green lantern.”  

“Yes….in your words, a green lantern. But actually it is a battery of power, given only to selected space patrolmen in the super-galactic system, to be used as a weapon against the forces of evil and injustice.” 

“So you’re some sorta space cop?” Len asked. 

“Indeed. We call ourselves the Green Lantern Corps, and it is our duty, when disaster strikes, to pass on the battery of power to another who is fearless—and honest. The battery has already selected you as one who has been made immune to fear. Come closer to me, Earthman, so that I may use my ring to scan you and measure your honesty,” the alien replied. Len actually laughed. Was this alien really trying to recruit him as a space cop? 

“Much as I hate to disappoint you, pal, I think you got the wrong guy. Maybe your battery got damaged when your spaceship crashed or somethin’, I don’t know, but I’m an ex-con. Been in and out of jail since I was eighteen. I don’t think I’m somebody the other space cops would wanna take on as a rookie,” Len said. The alien didn’t seem to care, though, as he pointed his hand at Len, and a beam shot out from the ring on his finger—a ring that was shaped to look like a lantern. Apparently the space cops liked to stay on brand. 

“Hey! If you really are dyin’, quit wastin’ your time on me and teleport the Flash here. He’s all noble and upstandin’ and crap, and he’s even got powers. He’s the guy you wanna make a space cop.” 

“By the green beam of my ring, I see that you do not put up pretenses. You are exactly as you appear to be. So you pass both tests.” Len’s theory that the alien was brain damaged was becoming more and more likely by the second. 

“Sure, I don’t make no bones about what I am—but what I am is an ex-con! A cheap crook! And you’re tryin’ to recruit a new space cop! For all you know, I’ll use the badge as a cover to rob people blind without gettin’ caught!” 

“No. You won’t,” the alien replied.

“What’s gonna stop me? You’re about to kick the bucket, ain’t you?” 

“What’s going to stop you, Leonard Snart, is you. Though you have been a criminal and an evildoer, and thus have no love lost for the law enforcement of this planet, you still despise those who cover their acts of wickedness and evil with the badge of righteousness. You would not join their number—for if you did, you would be exactly like your father.” 

“How do you—”

“When the ring scanned you to measure your honesty, it also allowed me to probe your mind and learn of your history.”

“It did what?” 

“There is still much to tell you, and only moments left! My ship was battered…in the deadly radiation bands surrounding your planet. A terrible yellow light, similar to your aurora borealis, blinded me at the controls. Then I crashed.”

“And how does any of this make me a good candidate for bein’ a space cop?” 

“Only seconds left to tell you…once you have the battery, you will have power over everything—except that which is yellow!” 

“Yellow? Like, the color? 

“The unique metal which charges the battery with its wondrous power has a yellow impurity in it. Strangely enough, if that yellow impurity is removed, the battery instantly loses its power. It is this impurity in the battery which will make you powerless over anything yellow!” 

  “So the ring will let me read minds like a creepy weirdo and teleport terrible choices for new space cops anywhere I want, but I’ll be up a creek without a paddle if someone comes at me with a banana?” 

“Now, take my ring. Let me put it on you. With this ring you will drain power from the battery, effective every twenty four hours,” the alien said as he grabbed Len’s hand. If he hadn’t obviously been on his deathbed, Len would’ve socked him in the nose, but even he wasn’t quite low enough to punch a dying guy in the face. He took the ring from his finger and slipped it onto the ring finger of Len’s right hand. 

“Seriously, you should really go find the Flash for this. Or an Earth cop. Or anybody who, you know, isn’t a criminal,” Len said. 

“The battery has chosen you, Leonard Snart. I do not pretend to understand why, or how, but it has—which means there must be some good in you.” Len snorted. 

“Sure there is. Which is why I knock over liquor stores.” The alien fixed him with a really intense stare. 

“Your grandfather was a good man, Leonard Snart. For his sake, and as my dying request, I charge you: swear to use this ring to fight for justice, and to atone for the life of crime you have led.” 

Len had always known on some level that his grandfather wouldn’t be real happy if he had been alive to learn about the line of work he had taken up, but he’d never had anyone directly confront him with it before. The guilt that stirred up, combined with the force of someone’s last request, swamped his better judgment. 

“Okay, okay. I swear.” 

“In order to charge your ring, you must touch the ring to the battery and recite the oath of the Green Lantern Corps,” the alien said. Len walked over to the battery and touched the ring to it. 

“Now, repeat after me. In brightest day—” 

“In brightest day.” 

“In darkest night—” 

“In darkest night.” 

“No evil shall escape my sight.”

“No evil shall escape my sight.”  Len wanted to ask if that “evil” included him, but decided against it. The alien was about to kick the bucket, after all.

“Let those who worship evil’s might…” 

“Let those who worship evil’s might.” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring and the battery both glowed a bright green, and Len suddenly found himself dressed in a black-and-green costume identical to the one the alien was wearing. The appearance of the costume was followed a few seconds later by a rush of energy that wasn’t like anything Len had ever felt before. If this was the power of a Green Lantern, no wonder the oath warned people to beware of it. 

The alien slumped, as though he had used up the last of his strength. 

“Now, I have told you all. Do not fail me.” The alien’s eyes closed and his body fell still, and Len didn’t need a super-powered ring to know that he was dead. Len wondered if the guy had an alien family. Since Len had apparently been chosen to be his replacement, was he supposed to track them down and tell them about his death if he did? How was any of this supposed to work? 

“Abin Sur leaves behind a son, Amon Sur, a sister, Arin Sur, and a niece, Soranik Natu,” a robotic voice said. After a few seconds of panic, Len realized that the voice was coming from the ring—which meant that the ring could answer at least some questions. 

“Am I supposed to—” 

“No. The news of Abin Sur’s death has already reached the Guardians of the Universe, to whom all Green Lanterns report. They will send a messenger to inform his loved one of his passing.” Len sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to have to tell a total stranger—a total stranger from another planet, no less—-that his old man had died. 

“They gonna pick up the body, too?” 

“No. Abin Sur considered all the planets in Sector 2814 as his own, and requested that he should be buried on the planet where he died,” the ring replied. Len swore. He didn’t particularly like the idea of having to dig somebody’s grave, but even he didn’t feel right leaving the guy’s corpse to rot. Which meant he was gonna have to bury Abin Sur. 

Two hours later, Abin Sur was buried, and Len used the ring to mark his grave with a glowing green tombstone. It wasn’t much, but he wasn’t an undertaker. Hopefully his efforts would keep the space cop from rolling over in his grave, at least.

“Rest in peace, I guess,” he muttered. Then he looked down at his ring. 

“You mind takin’ me back home? Standin’ around a dead guy’s grave is startin’ to give me the creeps.”. The ring enveloped him in the green light, and after a few seconds he found himself back in his motel room. The battery had apparently come along for the ride, since it was resting next to the bed. 

“And can I have my regular clothes back? You might’ve chosen me to be a space cop, but I ain’t exactly on the clock right now.” There was another flash of green light, and Len was relieved to look down and see that his clothes were back to normal. It would’ve been kind of hard to explain to the motel owner why he was wandering around in a green-and-black leotard. 

Len yawned, and decided that he could plan out his next move in the morning. He walked over to his bed, laid down on it without even bothering to take off his clothes, and was soon fast asleep.

****************************************************************************** When Len woke up, he rolled over on his bed—only to see the power battery. He swore. So much for his hope that his encounter with the alien space cop had been a dream brought on from eating week-old takeout. 

Which meant that life as he had known it had come to a very sudden end. Len sighed wearily and looked down at the lantern-shaped ring on his finger. 

“You have some sort of space cop manual or something? ‘Cause I ain’t got the foggiest idea of what I’m supposed to do now,” Len asked. 

“As a newly recruited member of the Green Lantern Corps, your first task is to report to the Guardians of the Universe on the planet Oa,” the ring replied. 

“Wait. I have to go to another planet?” Len didn’t even like leaving Central City!

“The journey will not be arduous. I am programmed to be able to transport you to Oa instantaneously.” Len’s first instinct was to say that there was no way he was leaving Earth, but then he realized something. If he allowed the ring to take him to these Guardians of the Universe, they would realize that the ring—or maybe Abin Sur—had been damaged in the crash and chose the wrong guy. Then they would give the ring to someone who would actually make sense as a space cop—someone like the Flash—and Len could go back to his normal life.

“Then take me there.” There was a flash of green light, and Len suddenly found himself standing in front of a massive building, one that wasn’t like anything he had ever seen on Earth. He was also back in the green-and-black leotard, but he didn’t really mind wearing it for the sake of the trip that would allow him to get rid of it. 

After a few seconds of wondering if he should go inside the building or wait for the Guardians of the Universe to invite him in, he was approached by a huge creature with a face that kind of looked like a cross between a pig and a bulldog. He had to be at least eight feet tall, and Len was tensing himself for a fight when he noticed that the creature was wearing the same uniform that he was. The bulldog pig was a Green Lantern, just like Abin Sur had been. 

“Are you the new Green Lantern from Sector 2814? Abin Sur’s successor?” he asked. 

“I guess so, yeah. I…wasn’t exactly expecting to be chosen for the job,” Len replied.

“I’m Kilowog, the Green Lantern of Sector 674. I’m from the planet Bolovax Vik, and I’m here to take you to meet the Guardians of the Universe.” 

“Len. Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth.” Kilowog’s face seemed to scrunch up.

“Your planet’s named ‘Dirt’?” Len shrugged. 

“I didn’t name the planet.” Kilowog laughed. 

“Well, it’s good to meet you—even if I am going to really miss Abin Sur. He was one of the best of us,” he said. 

“He seemed like a decent guy. Even if I’m not sure that he made the right choice for a successor,” Len replied. Kilowog nodded. 

“Every Lantern feels that way when they’re first chosen by the ring. I know I did. I thought, I’m a genetic scientist. What do I know about fighting criminals? It took me a while to get the hang of the job, but I managed—-with the help of my fellow Green Lanterns, of course. And now I’m an instructor for the rookies.” 

“Which is why you’re takin’ me to the Guardians?” 

“Exactly. So, what did you do on Earth before the ring chose you as a Green Lantern?”

“I knocked over liquor stores.” Kilowog’s mouth dropped open. 

“You’re a criminal?” 

“Look, I don’t understand it any more than you do. The best I can figure is that either Abin Sur got brain damage from the spaceship crash that did him in and didn’t realize what he was doing, or the ring itself got busted and chose the wrong guy,” Len replied. 

“Come on. The Guardians have to be informed of this right away,” Kilowog said. His cheerful demeanor from earlier was gone, and he practically dragged Len inside the building where the Guardians of the Universe were, presumably, hanging out. 

“Guardians, I think something went wrong in the selection of the new Lantern for Sector 2814,” Kilowog said as he and Len entered a large, circular room. 

“Explain yourself, Kilowog.” It took Len a few seconds to figure out where the voice was coming from, but once he did, he had to stop himself from laughing. Whatever he had expected the Guardians of the Universe to look like, it definitely hadn’t been a bunch of short blue men in robes. 

“Tell them who you are,” Kilowog snapped at Len. 

“My name’s Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth, where Abin Sur crashed, and I think that the crash that killed him must’ve also damaged his tech or given him brain damage or something, because he chose me to be the next Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” The Guardians of the Universe looked confused. 

“And why do you and Kilowog believe that this means that a mistake was made?” 

“Because I’m an ex-con—a criminal. I’m not exactly space cop material. So either the ring is busted, and it made a mistake, or whatever injuries did in Abin Sur also caused him to misunderstand what the ring was tellin’ him,” Len replied. 

“The ring does not have the power to teleport you to Oa against your will. If you are a criminal as you say, then why did you come here with it? Why did you not simply use its power to enrich yourself?” It was a good question. Why hadn’t he just done that? 

Except for the fact that it would make him exactly like his father, of course. 

“Because my old man was a crooked cop, and I’d rather die than be anything like him. I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I’m anything other than a thug, but there’s stuff even I won’t stoop to,” Len replied. The little blue guys muttered to each other, and then one of them stepped forward, pulled out some kind of ray, and shot a beam of light at Len.

“The ring is undamaged,” he said. 

“Okay, so Abin Sur hurt his head durin’ the crash or somethin’. I don’t belong here. Send me back to Earth, and let the ring choose whoever was actually supposed to be Sector 2814’s new space cop,” Len replied. 

“You don’t seem to understand, Mr. Snart. There was no mistake. As improbable as it may seem, the ring has chosen you to be our newest Green Lantern.” 

“But–” Len and Kilowog said in unison. 

“Leonard Snart, you have served your time for your previous offenses, and you are not currently wanted for any new crimes. As such, you are in effect an ordinary citizen of your planet—and eligible to be deputized as a Green Lantern.” 

“But I’m not—” 

“If you are caught using your power illicitly, we will confiscate the ring and punish you accordingly, as we would with any other Green Lantern. But as the situation currently stands, you are the Green Lantern of Sector 2814,” the little blue alien said. 

“And I can’t, like, give the job to someone who deserves it? Someone who’d actually want to do it?” 

“Leonard Snart, when I scanned the ring, it informed me that you promised Abin Sur on his deathbed that you would take up the position of Green Lantern in order to atone for your past crimes. Are you going to renege on that promise now?” Len swore. He had promised to do the job—not just to Abin Sur, but basically to his grandfather as well. 

“I’ll always keep you safe, Lisa. I promise.” 

He had broken that promise by leaving Lisa alone with their father. 

He couldn’t break this one. 

Which meant that he, Leonard Snart, a lowdown thug who distrusted cops on the best of days, was going to become a space cop. 

How did he get himself into these situations?

“I did promise. So— I guess if you’re really sure you want me, I’ll take the job. I’ll be the Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” 

“Excellent. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, Leonard Snart.” 

“Don’t tell me you expect me to baby-sit an ex-convict,” Kilowog protested.

“We don’t expect you to baby-sit anyone—but we do expect you to help train our newest corpsmember,” the little blue guy replied. Kilowog groaned.

“Fine. But I’m going to be watching him like a hawk.” Then he turned to Len. 

“Follow me, poozer. It’s time for you to learn what being a Green Lantern is really all about,” he said. 

“Come again?” Len asked. 

“Kilowog is our drill sergeant, and will be responsible for teaching you how to utilize your ring,” the little blue guy explained. 

“Wait. Nobody said anything about any kind of boot camp. I can’t just up and disappear from Earth for six months or whatever! I got bills to pay,” Len protested. 

“Then you’d better learn fast. You promised Abin Sur that you were gonna become a Green Lantern, and if you wanna keep that promise, you gotta go through boot camp just like the rest of us,” Kilowog replied. He turned on his heels and started walking towards the door, and, after a few seconds, Len reluctantly trailed after him. 

“Okay, fine. I’m coming.” As much as he hated the idea of being away from Central City for any length of time, he had promised Abin Sur that he would do this space cop thing, so he was going to do the space cop thing. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d never had to put his life back together from scratch before. 

“Your first lesson is this: there’s no room for rogues in the Corps. You’re obviously not much for authority. That’s gonna change right now, or you’ll never get out of boot camp,” Kilowog said as the two of them walked out of the room and down a hallway. Len swore. This was gonna be a rough couple of weeks. 

“Oh, and if I catch you breaking a rule—any rule—I’ll bust you down to basics again. Even if you’re about to graduate.” 

“Gotcha. So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking—when do I get paid?” Kilowog laughed.

“Lanterns don’t get paid, poozer. Especially not during basic training.” Len didn’t think that that was very fair. Did the Green Lantern Corps really expect their space police to work for free? 

“How’m I supposed to support myself back on Earth if I ain’t getting paid?” Kilowog just laughed. 

“I give it a week before you wash out,” he said.

Len was going to make Kilowog eat those words. 

******************************************************************************

Len graduated from space cop boot camp in five and a half months. It wasn’t a record or anything like that—not least because Kilowog had meant it when he had told Len that he would bust him down to basics if he broke a rule—-but he hadn’t washed out, and he had actually completed his training well ahead of schedule. 

“I’ll give you this, poozer. You’ve gotta be the most persistent cadet I’ve ever trained,” Kilowog said as he handed Len what Len could only describe as a holographic diploma—which, now that he thought about it, was the first diploma he’d ever earned. 

“And you’re the biggest pain in the neck I’ve ever met—-but you’re a good teacher. Anybody who could steer me to a diploma’d have to be,” Len replied. As much as he hated to admit it, Kilowog had really grown on him over the past few months. 

It had helped that, unlike a lot of the other Lanterns, he’d been upfront about the fact that he didn’t trust Len one bit. Since Len knew that most of them didn’t really trust the ex-con in their ranks, he’d appreciated that Kilowog had the guts to be honest about it. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you just might have what it takes to make Abin Sur proud,” Kilowog said as the two of them shook hands. 

“Careful. You’ll make him roll over in his grave,” Len snarked. Even if he had promised to make up for his past crimes—even though he was going to do it—-he knew that he was a thug at heart. He would never be good enough to be a real hero.

Kilowog laughed. 

“Good luck out there. The first week of patrol is always a doozy,” he said.

“Thanks. See you around, Kilowog,” Len said. One of the Guardians of the Universe floated up to them. 

“Are you prepared to return to Earth, Leonard Snart?” Len had tried to convince the little blue men to just call him “Len”, but had gotten nowhere. 

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to get back to Central City!” Len exclaimed. Lisa was probably worried sick about him by now….

“In that case, you are free to begin your first patrol, Green Lantern of Sector 2814—and may good fortune go with you.” 

There was a flash of green light, and Len was back in Central City. 

“Home, sweet home.” 

******************************************************************************

The first thing Len did after arriving on Earth, besides using his ring to change back into civilian clothes, was call his little sister on the phone. 

“Lenny?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah, sis. It’s me,” Len replied. 

“Where have you been? No one’s heard anything from you in six months!” Lisa exclaimed. Len wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Sorry for not calling for so long. I was…uh…out of town on a job,” he said. Saying “I was in space cop boot camp on another planet” wasn’t something you could casually drop into a conversation. 

“Out of town? What do you mean, out of town? You never leave Central City! I thought you were dead!” 

“I’m really sorry, sis. It’s just…things came up and—-well—I had to get out of dodge for awhile.” There was a snort—the Snart snort—on the other end of the line. 

“If you’re on the run from the cops, you can just say so, Lenny. It’s not like I don’t know you’re a criminal.”

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” Len said. 

“I gathered as much, seeing as you’re calling me. I guess the heat died down?”

“No, I mean I’m not a criminal anymore.” 

“Wait. When you said you had a job, you meant that you got an actual job?”

“Yeah.” 

“What kind of job is it?” Another question Len wasn’t sure how to answer. Saying “I got hired by a bunch of little blue aliens to be a space cop” sounded crazy, and there was no way she would believe that he had been hired to be a regular cop.

On the other hand, he was going to need a second job. One that actually paid a salary. So maybe he could just make up a job and then go get hired in that position before Lisa could find out he’d lied to her. 

As an ex-con. With a felony on his record. That was never going to happen. 

Telling the truth it was, then. 

“Okay, first of all, you have to believe me when I tell you I’m not crazy.”

“Because that’s exactly what people say when they aren’t crazy,” Lisa replied. It was at this point that Len realized that he actually had a way to prove his sanity. 

“Sis, where are you?”

“I’m in my apartment. The one I stay in when I’m not on tour. Why?” There was a flash of green light, and Len materialized in his sister’s apartment. 

“Hey, sis,” he said. 

“Lenny? How—-how did you—”

“It’s kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that an alien space cop called a Green Lantern crash landed on Earth. He was fatally wounded in the crash, so he did a sweep of the surrounding area, lookin’ for people who don’t scare easy, and came up with me. Then he teleported me to him, passed on his power battery and ring to me, and told me that the ring—-it’s some sort of super-advanced tech the Green Lanterns use—had chosen me to be the next space cop of Sector 2814, which is where Earth is. It seemed totally crazy, but he was dying and really really insistent that I had to replace him, so I…kind of promised him that I would do the whole space cop thing. And then he died. I thought for sure that he’d made a mistake, so I had the ring take me to the Guardians of the Universe, these little blue guys who run the Green Lantern Corps, to tell them that they needed to find a new space cop, and I was transported to a planet called Oa.” 

“You went to another planet?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah. It’s the one where the Guardians of the Universe live.” 

“And you’re sure you’re not crazy?” 

“Could I teleport before?” 

“Okay, fair point. So what happened after you got there?” 

“I told the Guardians that the ring had made a mistake, and they said that it hadn’t. I’ve technically served my time for all the crimes I’ve committed, and I guess that made me eligible to be chosen. But before I could be a full-fledged Green Lantern, I had to go through space cop boot camp—and that’s basically where I’ve been for the past six months. But I passed. I’ve got a diploma and everything. I’m a deputized space cop now,” Len said. He pulled out his holographic diploma, and was surprised at how proud he felt to be able to show it to his sister. 

“That’s actually really cool. I’m so proud of you, Lenny!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Thanks.” 

“Do you have a uniform? What does it look like? Can I see it?” 

“Sure, sis.” The ring glowed, and his civvies were replaced by the Green Lantern uniform.

“Wow! You look great!” Lisa exclaimed. 

“I dunno. I’m not crazy about the skintight spandex…”

“Trust me, you pull it off.” 

“If you say so.” 

“So, how much money do you make as a space cop?” Lisa asked. 

“Well, that’s the one problem with the gig. Green Lanterns get fed and sheltered on Oa, but they don’t get paid. Which means that, since I ain’t about to live full-time on another planet, I’m gonna need a second job,” Len said. Lisa grinned. 

“I know the guy who owns Central City’s ice skating rink. He’s been talking about how they need someone to run the Zamboni for months. If I recommended you, I bet he’d take you on,” she said. Len smiled.

“Well, I’ve always liked the cold. If you really think he’d hire me…that’d be great.”

And two days later, the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 was hired to be the official Zamboni driver for Central City’s biggest ice skating rink. 

*****************************************************************************

“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring glowed brightly, and, now that it was fully charged, Len took off on his first official patrol. Since he had been out of the underworld loop for six months, he couldn’t exactly go chasing down specific crooks, so he was going to be limited to just sort of flying around and stopping whatever he came across, but he was definitely still  jumpy. This was his first day on the job, and he really didn’t want to make a total idiot out of himself.

And he really didn’t want to stumble across any of his former colleagues before he had some experience under his belt. Because running into them while he was still a rookie would be very awkward and might also result in him ending up very dead. 

“Guess nobody ever said this space cop thing would be easy,” he muttered to himself. 

The first hour or so of the patrol passed more or less uneventfully. Aside from some jaywalking, which wasn’t exactly the sort of evil that the power of a Green Lantern was intended to fight against, there’d been no sign of any trouble or anyone who was planning to commit a crime—and as an ex-con, Len was pretty good at spotting criminals who were trying to look casual before starting a job. 

He had been about to leave and head for a new city block when he suddenly heard a piercing scream coming from one of the apartment buildings. After using the ring to determine that the scream had come from an apartment on the third floor, he flew over to the window to see a man knock his wife to the ground. A little boy, no more than five years old, was standing nearby and sobbing. 

“Where were you today? Where were you?” the man screamed. 

“I was only at the grocery store, Ronald! I have the receipts—I can show you!” the woman pleaded. 

“Don’t lie to me! I know you were with another man! Who was it?” The little boy ran between his parents. 

“Daddy, please! Leave mommy alone!” he exclaimed. The man raised his hand, but before he could hit him, Len used the ring to open the window, and then to create an energy wall between the man and his son. 

“What the–?” the man asked. Len flew through the window and landed next to the man. 

“If you want a fight, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” he asked. 

“Who are you?” 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart. But to you, I’m the Green Lantern,” Len replied. 

“I don’t care if you’re the Flash. You ain’t got no right to interfere with my personal life.”

“Maybe not—but I ain’t gonna just stand by and let you knock your wife around and beat up your kid,” Len replied. 

“What I do in my own house in my own business.” 

“The man who slammed a beer bottle into my shoulder when I was twelve said the same thing. And I think you’re both full of crap,” Len said. He walked through his energy wall and extended a hand to the woman. 

“You okay?” The woman took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. 

“I…I’m fine. You should go, really. Ronald isn’t normally…isn't normally like this. He’s just had a rough few days.” Len knew it was a lie. He remembered saying exactly the same thing to social workers as a kid.

 And he also knew that there probably wasn’t anything he could say or do to convince this woman to tell a stranger the truth. 

“All the same, I’m not gonna leave until I’m sure that you and the kid’ll be okay when I go,” he said. 

“If you don’t get outta my house, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” the man spat. Len laughed. 

“Go on, then. Call the cops. I’m sure they’ll be real interested to know why your wife’s got a black eye—and why you’ve got a bunch of dope and a sawed-off shotgun hidden under your couch.” Len knew from his own time as a crook that no small-timer in this situation would call the cops unless they were absolutely convinced that they were going to die. The chance of getting arrested alongside whoever was causing you the problem was way too high. 

Sure enough, Ronald didn’t call the cops. Instead, he pulled the shotgun out from underneath the couch and fired it over the energy wall—only for the bullet to be stopped by a red blur. A red blur that solidified into the Flash. 

“Somehow I doubt that you have a license for that gun,” he said. Len dropped the energy wall, and the Flash zipped over to Ronald and grabbed the shotgun out of his hands. Len took the opportunity to pin the guy to the wall with a glowing green clamp. 

“Nice work. I didn’t know there was another superhero in Central City,” the Flash said.

“I’m…uh…kinda new to the job. I only became the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 a couplea months ago, and I basically just got out of boot camp.” 

“The… Green Lantern?” the Flash echoed. 

“Yeah, a Green Lantern. A space cop. There’s one for every sector of space, and they’re run by these little blue guys who call themselves the Guardians of the Universe. Abin Sur was the last Green Lantern of this sector of the universe—2814—and since he died on Earth, he passed the ring on to me, ‘cause I ain’t afraid of much and I don’t pretend to be anything other’n what I am. Or somethin’ like that. I’m still half-convinced the stupid thing was busted when it chose me, but hey, what’re ya gonna do? Somebody has to do the job, and I did promise the guy I’d do it,” Len replied. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. What brought you to this apartment? I came running because I heard the shotgun blast, but you were obviously here before he pulled that out,” Flash asked. 

“I heard a scream comin’ from the buildin’, so I flew up to the window to see what was goin’ on. When I looked inside, I saw our pal over there knockin’ his wife around in front of his kid. The kid ran over to try an’ protect his mom, and I stopped the creep with an energy wall just before he could slap his son around too. He started givin’ me all the usual crap about how I should get out and mind my own business, and when I told him I wasn’t gonna just fly off and let him go back to beatin’ up women and little kids, he pulled the shotgun on me. Thanks for the save, by the way,” Len replied. The Flash looked horrified. 

“He was going to hit his own child?” Len nodded. 

“Hate to say it, but it happens all the time. My old man broke my arm when I was about that kid’s age,” he said. The Flash’s mouth dropped open. 

“My parents never hit me. I…I couldn’t even imagine.” Funny. Len could barely imagine what it was like to have parents who didn’t hit you.

“Not even when you acted up?” 

“No. Never.” 

“You’re lucky, then.” 

“Do you mind if I run this criminal to CCPD Headquarters? I can get him there faster than you probably can, but I can understand if you want to get the credit for stopping him. You did most of the work, after all,” the Flash asked. 

“I don’t mind. I figure if I keep up this space cop gig long enough, I’ll end up with more credit than I know what to do with. So go ahead and take him,” Len replied. The Flash disappeared, and then reappeared about a minute later. 

“Sorry it took so long. I had to tell the police what I’d arrested him for,” he explained. Then he turned to the woman. 

“Are you all right, miss? Is there anything I can do for you?” The woman responded by bursting into tears. 

“You’ve done enough! What are Andy and I supposed to do without Robert? He was the only one bringing in any money!” she cried. From the look on Flash’s face, it was clear that he hadn’t been expecting that reaction.

“Before you ask, that ain’t uncommon either. It’s part of why women like my mom don’t call the cops on the guys who beat ‘em up—-they ain’t got the education or the money to make ends meet as single moms,” Len said quietly. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, fished out some fifty dollar bills, and handed them to the woman. 

“Will this be enough to hold you over for awhile?” he asked. As much as he would miss his baseball tickets—and his beer—he’d be alright without the cash. And if he was going to do this whole hero thing, he might as well do it all the way. 

The woman looked up at him suspiciously. 

“What’s the catch? What do you want? I…I won’t testify against Robert. I…I can’t,” she said.

“No catch, lady. Just take care of yourself—and your kid.” The woman gave him a weak smile.

“Where do you work?” the woman asked. 

“At the big downtown ice rink. I keep the place in shape—and run the Zamboni,” he replied. 

“Then I’ll swing by once a week and bring you some of my fried chicken. Everyone says it’s the best in the neighborhood.”  Len grinned.

 “That’d be great. See you soon.” Len looked over to the Flash, who looked like he was going through his own pockets, and put his hand on his shoulder. 

“I know what you’re thinkin’, but don’t. If you give her money, it’ll embarrass her.” The Flash gave him a bit of a strange look. 

“You gave her money.” 

“I can get away with it. I’m a poor high school dropout too. She can repay me, one way or the other. But from you it’d be charity,” Len explained. The Flash nodded and stopped going through his pockets. 

“Miss, is there anything else you need?” he asked. 

“No. We’ll be fine. And—I’m sorry about yelling at you earlier. It’s just…I married Robert when I was seventeen, right after we both dropped out. He told me that he would take care of me, and that I didn’t need to work, and—and—I was just so scared of the thought of not having his support for Andy,” the woman said.

“I understand. You were worried about your son, and I definitely forgive you.” Then the Flash turned to Len. 

“If you’re okay with it, I can get the two of us back on the streets in a flash.” 

“Sure. Why not?” There was a rush of light not too different from the one Len saw when the ring teleported him, and then he and the Flash were standing outside of the apartment building. 

“You know, Green Lantern, while I don’t think that woman is any threat, I’m not sure if you should go around telling people where you work as a civilian. If that information starts circulating, criminals might get a hold of it and use it to go after you when you’re off the clock—or worse, to go after your loved ones.” Len shrugged. 

“I appreciate the concern, but seein as I ain’t married, I don’t got kids, my sister’s an ice skater who spends most of her time touring the country under a stage name, my mom’s been AWOL for years, and my old man’s on the Candy Man’s payroll, I don’t figure I’ve got too much to worry about. I can take care of myself pretty well, even without the fancy ring,” he said.  

“If Green Lantern rings are awarded on the basis of fearlessness, I can see how you earned one,” the Flash replied. 

“Don’t give me too much credit. Anybody’d be fearless after a childhood of bein’ smacked around by their father and a couple of years fightin’ off wannabe cell block kings in state prison. You survive that and there’s not much that’ll scare you anymore.” 

“Wait. You’ve been to prison?” the Flash asked. 

“Uh-huh. Did two years for robbin’ a drug store on Fifth and Main, thanks to a certain red blur,” Len replied. The Flash’s eyes widened. 

“That gang—the one with the glasses that let them intercept police radio bands! I thought those green glasses you’re wearing looked familiar!” he exclaimed. 

“You got a good memory.”

“Who are you?” Len snorted. 

“Weren’t you just goin’ on about how I shouldn’t be tellin’ people about myself?” 

“That was before I knew you were a criminal!” 

“I was a criminal—but I ain’t one now. I wasn’t lying when I said I worked at the ice rink. Or about the space cop thing, for that matter.” 

“You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit wary to trust someone I know I put behind bars, and who therefore has a good reason to hold a grudge against me.” Len sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he actually cared if anyone knew who the Green Lantern really was. 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart,” he said. 

“Leonard Snart, then. You’re twenty-five years old. Arrested six times, convicted four times. You spent three months in jail for getting caught with burglar’s tools when you were eighteen, eight months in jail for stealing a fairly cheap necklace, starting when you were nineteen, another eight months in jail for stealing a couple hundred dollars from a liquor store, starting when you were twenty-one, and then two years in prison for robbing a drug store, starting at twenty-two.” 

“And you’re either a cop, a lawyer, or a warden, because nobody else knows that much about the criminal record of some cheap thug,” Len replied. 

“How in the world did you get deputized as a police officer, in space or otherwise?” Len shrugged. 

“I have no idea. I told ‘em I was an ex-con—repeatedly, because I wasn’t originally too keen on the whole space cop idea—-but they said that since I’d served my time for the old crimes, and hadn’t committed any new ones, I could be a Green Lantern. And since I’d promised the dying Green Lantern who passed me the ring that I’d go straight and take up the job, well—I decided I had to do it. I have all the paperwork and everything if you wanna see it.” 

“So you aren’t going to try to put me six feet under for sending you to prison?” 

“Even if I was still a criminal,  I wouldn’t be tryin’ to put you six feet under for sending me to prison. No crook needs the kinda heat killin’ a cape brings down on you. It’d be like killin’ a cop—maybe even worse.” 

“A… cape?” 

“Yeah. That’s what crooks—-at least the low-level ones—call costumed heroes. Capes,” Len replied. 

“And you’re serious about turning over a new leaf?” 

“If you’d asked me if I’d ever say this a year ago, I’d have laughed in your face—but yeah. I’m turnin’ over a new leaf,” Len replied. The Flash grinned. 

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. It’s a nice change of pace to know a person I arrested is changing for the better instead of plotting ways to kill me.” 

“And you’re sure you don’t mind havin’ an ex-con runnin’ around playin’ super-hero in your city?” 

“It’s not my city. You live here, too. In my mind, that makes it our city—and if you really do want to help people, I’m certainly not about to stop you. Even a man as fast as I am can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Guess that makes us allies, then.” The Flash nodded. 

“It does—and, although I really hate to run off on you, I think I’d better get going. I have a date at 8:00 PM sharp, and my girlfriend will be furious if I’m late again.” 

“Then I hope you’ve got the money to buy her a nice gift, ‘cause it’s 8:25.” 

“It is?” 

“Almost 8:26. Do you not own a watch?” 

“Several, actually, but somehow it doesn’t seem to help.” Len shook his head. 

“Good luck with your girlfriend—-and hey, I guess I’ll be seein’ you around.” 

“Good-bye, Green Lantern, and stay safe. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you in the newspapers before too long,” the Flash said. Then he disappeared in, well, a flash. Len smiled. 

“Who woulda thought I’d ever work with the Flash?”

****************************************************************************

The Flash turned out to be right about the newspaper thing. Less than a week into his career as Green Lantern, Len stopped a crowded bus from crashing into a restaurant when its brakes went out, and suddenly his face was all over the newspapers—-and the TV channels, too. 

“Lenny, you’re famous!” Lisa exclaimed over the phone. She was in New York City with her ice skating company and had seen the reports about the rescue on the news. 

“I…uh…kinda noticed,” Len replied. 

“Everyone’s talking about Central City’s new superhero, even here in New York. And I swear, half of the people who skate for Futura want to know if I can get them your autograph,” Lisa said. 

“They ain’t the only ones. It’s getting a little overwhelming to go out in costume during the day, what with all the fans and all.” Lisa gave the Snart snort. 

“Welcome to the limelight.” 

“You got any tips for dealing with this sorta stuff?” 

“Of course. You’ve come to the right place, big brother.” 

****************************************************************************

After a year and a half of being the Green Lantern, Len fought one of the Flash’s supervillains for the first time. While Len fought crime in Central City whenever he was on Earth, since he was the Green Lantern of all of Sector 2814, he had to be off in space a lot to fight off alien invasions and to help stop crime and natural disasters on the other planets in his sector. Because of this, the costumed criminals—who had started showing up within a few months of his debut as Green Lantern—spent most of their time fighting the Flash. 

He was patrolling Morrow Street, waiting for the weekly drug-related shootout to start, when the window of a nearby grocery store suddenly warped and twisted, and a man carrying a pretty good-sized bag of loot, and wearing an orange-and-green costume, stepped out of it. As he looked at the guy—the Mirror Master, if he was remembering right—Len found himself revising his opinion of his Green Lantern uniform. He still thought the spandex looked stupid, but at least it wasn’t orange and green.

Len used his ring to create a giant green claw, and used it to grab the bag of loot from the Mirror Master, who let out a cry of surprise. 

“Green Lantern?” 

“That’s right. And from what the Flash has told me, you must be the Mirror Master.” The Mirror Master smirked. 

“The one and only.” Len tried to remember the supervillain’s civilian name, but couldn’t come up with anything. Whoever he was, though, he was very cocky—cockier than Len had ever been as a crook. 

“How long you been out of prison?” 

“A few weeks. State prison’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. So I arranged an early parole for myself. How long have you been back in Central City? Last I heard, you were in space,” the Mirror Master replied. 

“I got homesick, so after I stopped a flood on Agraria 7, I made my way back to Earth. I’ve been here for a couple days now,” Len said. 

“And you’re wasting your vacation on stopping me?” Mirror Master asked. 

“You surrender quietly, and that’ll open up a lot of free time for both of us,” Len replied. The Mirror Master laughed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I don’t want the kind of free time I’ll end up with if I surrender,” he said. He pulled out a strange-looking prism, and, when Len fired a beam at it in the hopes of knocking it out of his hands, the prism didn’t just reflect the beam back—it split the beam into a rainbow of seven differently-colored light beams, all of which shot in Len’s direction. Len automatically threw up a shield, and realized a second too late that the yellow beam wouldn’t be blocked by the shield. This beam hit him square in the chest and sent him hurtling towards the ground. He managed to save himself from colliding with the ground by quickly creating a giant pile of green blankets, but the impact was still enough to knock the wind out of him—and to send the Mirror Master’s bag of loot flying out of his hands.

“My prism shield works even better against your Green Lantern beam than I predicted it would!” the Mirror Master exclaimed. As Len struggled to regain his breath and get back on his feet, Mirror Master pulled out another device, and suddenly there were dozens of Mirror Masters.

“As much as I’d love to stick around and engage you in a battle of light manipulation, I have places to go and jewelry to fence. So…catch me if you can!” All of the Mirror Masters started moving at once. Len blasted several to pieces, then realized that he was being stupid. If he wanted to catch the Mirror Master, all he had to do was command the ring to find the real one. 

“Mind findin’ the actual human in all those reflections?” he asked. A few seconds later, a green light appeared over one of the Mirror Masters. He was one of many who seemed to be carrying the bag of loot. He didn’t want to take any more chances with the prism shield, so instead, he grabbed the Mirror Master from behind with a giant green hand. The Mirror Master reached for what was probably another weapon he had hidden on his costume, but before he could get to it, Len ordered the ring to create a pair of green handcuffs around his wrists. Then, just to be on the safe side, he also ordered the ring to remove any hidden weapons from the costume. A few seconds later, an improbable number of mirrors, prisms, and ray guns were floating in the air, suspended in green bubbles. How in the world did the Mirror Master manage to fit that much stuff in such a skintight costume? 

Len then used the ring to lower the Mirror Master, his loot, and all of the confiscated weapons back to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the giant hand vanished, but the handcuffs remained, and the weapons continued to float in their green bubbles. 

“How’s that for light manipulation?” he asked as he started floating the weapons down to the ground. 

“Don’t break any of the mirrors! Don’t you know that’ll bring seven years’ bad luck?” the Mirror Master shrieked as one of the mirrors hit the ground. Len snorted. 

“It must really suck for somebody who fights using mirrors to be superstitious about breakin’ ‘em,” he said. The Mirror Master continued to struggle against the cuffs—and then, all of a sudden, his costume gave off such a bright light that even Len, with his goggles that were designed to filter out excess light, was nearly blinded. 

The costume was gimmicked—which meant that he needed to get it off of the Mirror Master before he got away. There was a flare of green light, and then Len could see again. Although since the first thing he saw was the Mirror Master wearing nothing but a gray undershirt, blue socks, and yellow polka-dotted underwear (seriously?), he wasn’t totally sure that was actually a good thing. 

“What did you do? Where’s my costume?” the Mirror Master screamed. 

“You were blinding me with it, so I told the ring to get it off of you. Believe me, I’m regretting it as much as you are. Who wears polka-dotted underwear?” 

“It was on sale!” As the initial shock of seeing the Mirror Master in nothing but his underclothes wore off, Len started to focus on the younger man’s features, which he could now see a lot more clearly. Perfectly styled brown hair, big brown eyes, ski-jump nose—-wait. He’d seen this face before, and not just on wanted posters. 

“And give me my costume back! You can’t drag me to CCPD Headquarters in my underclothes at two in the afternoon. I’d never be able to live that down.” 

“Sam? Sam Scudder?”

“Of course I’m Sam Scudder! It’s not like my identity’s a secret. Now give me my costume back!” 

The Mirror Master’s identity might not have been a secret, but it was news to Len. Apparently, while he’d been off in space, the pretty boy he’d had to save from getting shivved when they were in prison together had become a supervillain. 

“Do you remember a guy named Len Snart, by any chance?” he asked. Sam looked at him with obvious confusion. 

“Yeah, I remember him. He was in prison with me while I was serving my sentence for robbery, and he saved my life while he was there. If he ever shows up again, I owe him a favor—but why do you care about that?” 

  Len let the glasses vanish from his face. He was sure the Flash would probably blow a blood vessel in his brain if he saw him doing this, but hey—it wasn’t like his identity was a secret, either. 

“Because you’ve found him. It’s been a long time, Sam,” he said awkwardly. After a full thirty seconds of staring in open-mouthed shock, Sam finally found his voice. 

“The Green Lantern is an ex-con? An ex-con that I know?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“How did a convicted felon end up as part of the space police?” Sam asked. 

“I get asked that a lot. And I still have no idea,” Len replied. There was an awkward pause. 

“So, what’s it like working on the other side of the fence?”

“A lot more rewarding than I thought it’d be.” It was true. Even though he had promised to become a good guy, Len had initially assumed that it wouldn’t be very much fun. He had been wrong. Sure, there were still days—a lot of days, really—where he missed the rush of living by his wits, outwitting the cops, and taking whatever he felt like, but that rush paled in comparison to how good it felt to know that what he was doing was saving lives. To know that his sister could finally be proud of her big brother, and that his grandfather would be happy to see how he had turned out. 

“Rewarding?” Sam echoed. 

“Yeah. You probably won’t listen to me, because I wouldn’t have before I got a wake-up call in the form of a literal crashing spaceship, but—turnin’ over a new leaf and goin’ straight’s the best thing you can do for yourself—not to mention for everyone around you,” Len replied. A dark look spread across Sam’s face. 

“You want me to do what you did? Give up crime and become some sort of superhero?” he asked. 

“Why not? If I can do it, somebody with a brain like yours would have no problem.” Sam shook his head. 

“Because I know what being a superhero gets you in the end. It gets you killed.” 

“Is that a threat?” Len asked. 

“From me? No. Never. I owe you my life—and I’m not one for killing anyhow. It would take the glamor out of being the Mirror Master.” 

“Then why’d you say it?”

“As a warning.” 

“You got a funny way of warning people, Sam.”  The Mirror Master cocked his head and seemed to ponder something. 

“This isn’t working. So let’s try this. Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you. Growing up under the Candy Man’s thumb taught me that.” 

“I ain’t afraid of the Candy Man,” Len replied. 

“I know. You aren’t afraid of anything, if what I understand about the Green Lantern ring is true. But you should be. I don’t want to watch anyone else I know get killed playing hero.” 

“I’ll be careful. I always am. Now, let’s get you to CCPD before—” 

“Green Lantern! Green Lantern! How did you capture the Mirror Master?” 

“Before the paparazzi shows up,” Len muttered. As the cameras flashed, Sam’s cheeks went bright red, and he darted behind Len. The Mirror Master was still going to be on the front page of the newspaper in his underclothes tomorrow, but Len couldn’t really blame him for wanting to hide. 

“So, you know how I said I wasn’t going to kill you?” Sam hissed. 

“Yeah,” Len replied. 

“I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make things very difficult for you if we ever fight again.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me for this. If you had surrendered quietly when I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.” Sam gave out a sad little whine. 

“I’m going to be the laughingstock of the underworld…” 

*****************************************************************************

Len had thought he had done a good job at keeping in touch with Lisa. Over the seven years he had been the Green Lantern, he’d visited her every time they were both in Central City, attended at least four of her shows every year, and talked to her on the phone at least once a month. 

“I don’t care if he’s your partner, Lenny! I want the Flash to suffer—the way I suffered when he killed my boyfriend!” 

Len was starting to get the feeling that he hadn’t done quite as good a job of keeping in touch as he had thought. 

“You have a boyfriend? You never mentioned him before.” 

“I couldn’t tell you, because I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Len sighed. 

“Lisa, I’m an ex-con. Who exactly were you dating that I would have had a leg to stand on in terms of disapprovin’ of him?” 

“Roscoe Dillon—but you probably know him better as the Top,” Lisa said. Len’s mouth dropped open. 

“As in the supervillain who died of a brain aneurysm a few weeks ago? That Top?” Lisa nodded. Well, that explained why Lisa had thought he would disapprove. Even aside from being a supervillain, the Top had been a stuck-up snob—one who was freakishly obsessed with tops. Of all the Flash’s supervillains, he was one of the last ones Len would have wanted his sister to date. 

“Yes. Flash’s vibrations induced Roscoe’s aneurysm the last time they fought. He killed my boyfriend—and I’m going to make him pay!” Lisa shrieked. 

“Lisa, it was an accident. You know it was an accident. Nobody could’ve ever guessed that—” 

“What I know is that my Roscoe is dead because of him!” 

“It was an accident! If I had killed somebody accidentally, would you want their girlfriend to kill me?” Len asked. Lisa’s eyes narrowed. 

“Lenny, I didn’t come here for you to talk me out of this. I’m here to warn you to stay out of my way,” she said. 

“I can’t do that, Lisa.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t do that?”

“The Flash is my friend, and he’s a good man. I understand you’re upset about your boyfriend, but—I can’t let you kill him because he accidentally caused a supervillain to die.” Lisa burst into tears.

“Lenny, you don’t understand! I need this! I need to make him pay! Revenge is all I have left, now that Roscoe’s dead and you’re gone all the time!” Len swallowed hard. 

“Lisa, please. If you attack the Flash, I’ll have to arrest you. I don’t want to have to do that. I don’t wanna send my little sister to prison,” Lisa’s eyes went wide with shock.

“You’d side with the Flash over your own sister?”

“If it means keepin’ my friend alive? And keepin’ you from becomin’ a murderer? I have to,” he replied. 

“You promised you would always protect me! Are you going to break that promise again?” The words twisted like a knife in Len’s gut. 

“I promised I would protect you, and I will. I’ll never leave you alone again. But that don’t mean I’ll stand by and let you kill an innocent man!” 

“So that’s how it is, is it? You’re going to choose your cop friend over me?” Lisa demanded. 

“No, Lisa. But I’m not gonna choose you over him either.” The look of icy hatred in Lisa’s eyes sent a shiver down Len’s spine. 

“You’re just like our father. So I’ll tell you what I told him the last time I saw him. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” 

As Lisa turned on her heel and walked away, Sam’s voice echoed in Len’s mind. 

“Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you.” 

Len hadn’t been afraid of that prospect at the time. But back then, he had never thought that his sister would be one of the crooks trying to kill him.

He was more than scared now. He was terrified. 

******************************************************************************

Lisa was a Snart. When she attacked the Flash, Len had shown up to stop her—and she had kept her word. She tried to kill him, and, even though she hadn’t succeeded, she’d killed a part of him all the same when she’d forced him to fight against the little sister he’d only ever wanted to protect. 

It wasn’t quite enough to make him wish he’d never taken up the superhero gig, not with all the good he’d done, but it was still awful. His little sister was in prison, and she wanted him dead. How was he supposed to move on from that? 

Suddenly, one of the mirrors in his apartment warped and twisted, and the Mirror Master stepped out. 

“If you’ve changed your mind about killing me, go ahead. You’ll never have a better chance than now,” Len said weakly.

“I’m not going to kill you. You’re a pain in the neck, and your constant attempts to get me to reform and put myself in the line of fire are really getting old—but I still owe you my life. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about what happened with your sister. You didn’t deserve that,” Sam said. 

“Why’re you here, Sam?” 

“I’m here to tell you that I’m going to try to keep an eye on your sister and make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble–either while she’s in prison or when she escapes. Because you know she’s going to. She’s a Snart, just like you.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. She tried to kill me when I got in her way, and I’m her brother. I don’t think she’d even pause before killin’ you.”

  “Who said anything about getting in her way? I’m no hero, and I’m not about to try to stop her. I’m just going to tip you off if she needs help—or, more likely, if she’s coming after you and you need to be on guard,” Sam replied. 

“Well—thanks, then. But this don’t mean I’m gonna just let you go the next time I catch you stealin’ somethin’,” Len said. Sam laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Without you and the Flash, life would be far too easy—which is why I’m not actually here.” Sam suddenly shattered into a million pieces on Len’s floor. Len swore. 

Another mirror duplicate. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Len went over and opened it. The Flash was standing on the other side, holding a gallon of Len’s favorite chocolate crunch ice cream. 

“I…I understand if you don’t want company right now, but I wanted to check in on you just in case you did. And bring you that ice cream you like,” he said. 

“Come on in. I could probably use the company—and I could definitely use your speed to help me clean up the mess my last guest left me with,” Len replied. The Flash glanced over to the pile of glass that had been the Mirror Master duplicate. 

“I take it the Mirror Master dropped by?” he asked.

“The guy can make holographic images that vanish without leavin’ a trace. Why does he always insist on sendin’ mirror duplicates that break into pieces when he wants to talk to me without gettin’ caught?” Len replied. The Flash promptly zipped over to the pile of glass, and after only a few seconds, all the glass was stored in some plastic bags and the bags were in Len’s trash can. 

“Thanks.” 

“It was nothing. Where should I put the ice cream?”

“The mini fridge is—” There was a red blur, and Len just barely saw the fridge door open and close. 

“You ever thought about hirin’ yourself out as a pizza delivery guy? You’d make a mint.” 

“If I ever lose my job as a police scientist, I’ll keep that in mind,” the Flash replied. Then he actually pulled off his mask, to reveal a blonde man with bright blue eyes. He was a lot better-looking than Len had ever been, and if he hadn’t known how desperate the Flash was to keep his identity a secret, he would’ve wondered why the guy even bothered to wear the mask. 

“My name’s Barry Allen, and I work for the CCPD’s forensics lab.” 

“You’re giving up your secret identity? Why now?” Len asked.

“Because you just risked your life to protect me from your own sister. If that wasn’t enough to earn my complete trust, I don’t know what else would be.” Len was suddenly struck by a horrible revelation. 

“Wait a minute. If you’re Barry Allen, then when Lisa was goin’ after Iris West-Allen, she was goin’ after your wife,” Len said. Barry nodded. 

“I’m afraid so. Len—I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re sorry? What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be apologizin’! My sister was tryin’ to murder you and your missus!” 

“She tried to kill you, too. I know how much you love your sister—-and I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have my own sister try to kill me,” Barry replied. 

And suddenly the dam broke, and Len found himself crying for the first time in decades. 

When the tears finally ran out, he looked up at Barry wearily. 

“The funny thing is, the worst part wasn’t her tryin’ to kill me. It was when she looked me in the eye and told me that I was just like our old man. You…you know what he was like. That’s how much my sister hates me,” he said.

“You know, Len, if you wanted to stop operating as a superhero in Central City, I wouldn’t blame you. I can’t ask you to risk getting killed by your own sister.” For a second, Len seriously considered it. 

But then he thought about the people he’d saved, and the friends he’d made, and decided against it. As much as he loved his sister, and as much as he hated the idea of having to fight her again, he couldn’t leave Central City in the lurch. 

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily. Central City’s my home as much as it is yours, and I ain’t gonna abandon it just ‘cause things got tough for me.” 

**************************************************************************

Len had been Green Lantern for ten years when the Flash—Barry Allen— died saving the universe. 

The mantle didn’t sit vacant long. Barry Allen’s sidekick, Wally West, took up the job. He was still just a kid—barely twenty—and, though he’d had a good amount of experience as Kid Flash, that wasn’t quite the same thing as being the Flash in his own right. 

Which was why Len had to spend a lot of time giving the kid pointers—pointers which he more often than not ignored, and then fell flat on his face. 

If a thuggish ex-con like him had managed to become the Green Lantern, he had no doubt that the kid would be able to make his mentor proud one day—but sometimes that day seemed really far off. 

After an exhausting few hours of trying to referee a fight that had broken out between the kid and his current girlfriend, a police officer named Julie Jackam, Len was sitting at home and eating his chocolate crunch ice cream when there was a knock on his door. He took the ice cream with him as he opened the door–and nearly dropped it when he saw his sister on the other side. 

“Hi, Lenny. It’s been a long time,” she said. She looked older and wearier than he remembered her looking, but since she had spent the last three years in and out of prison and on increasingly-crazy revenge attempts, that probably wasn’t too surprising. He knew from personal experience—-a decade ago or not, some memories stuck with you—how exhausting being a crook could be. 

“Lisa?” he asked.

“I think this is the part where you close the door in my face. I tried to kill you, Lenny.” 

“Why are you here, sis?” Len asked. Lisa sighed. 

“I’ve spent the past three years trying to make the Flash suffer for hurting me. And now he’s dead, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. I’ve thrown away my skating career and my clean record, and I’ve burned every bridge I ever had—-and Roscoe’s still dead. I…I don’t know where to go from here, and, well—you’re the only person I know who might be able to tell me what to do next. Not that I expect you to after I tried to kill you,” she said. Len gave her a small smile. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust Lisa the way that he once had—it was really hard to go back to baseline after someone tried to kill you—but Lisa was still his little sister, and he was very glad to have her back. 

“Lisa, I promised I’d always look after you. And I’m gonna keep that promise.” 

“You shouldn’t. Lenny—I was horrible to you.” 

“Can’t argue with that. But I ain’t got a lot of room to throw stones when it comes to bein’ a criminal,” Len replied. 

“You never did anything like what I did.” 

“I never had someone I love die like you did, either. If you’d died while I was still a crook, I hate to think what I might’ve done.”

“This was a bad idea. I should go.” Lisa turned to leave, and Len used his ring to make a green stop sign appear in front of her.

“We’ve already lost each other twice, sis. Once because I made a bad call, and once because you did. I don’t want us to lose each other again,” he said. Lisa spun back around. 

“You can’t save everybody, Lenny.”

“I know. But I’d be a pretty lousy superhero if I didn’t try to save my own sister. Want some ice cream?” Lisa gave him a small smile. 

“Is it chocolate chunk?” 

“It’s always chocolate chunk.” 

The two of them were sitting together on Len’s couch, eating the last of the ice cream, when Wally suddenly came flying into the room through the door Len had forgotten to close. And for some reason, he was in nothing but his boxers. 

“How did Uncle Barry do this?” he asked. 

“Is that the new Flash? He’s kind of cute,” Lisa said.  Wally’s face went as red as his hair. 

“Who’s she?” he asked. 

“I’m Green Lantern’s crazy sister. My name’s Lisa Snart, but you probably know me as the Golden Glider,” Lisa said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Wow. You’re even more gorgeous up close,” Wally said. Len groaned. The last thing he needed was for Wally to decide to strike up a romance with his sister. That would only end horribly for both of them—not to mention Julie Jackam. 

“Kid, focus! Why the heck are you runnin’ around in your boxers and nothin’ else?” Wally sighed. 

“It’s Dr. Alchemy! He’s back!” “Which one? Dr. Albert Desmond and Mr. Element, or the creepy gremlin?” 

“The gremlin. He transmuted my costume into oxygen in front of everybody, and now  the whole city thinks I’m a total idiot!” 

“In that case, kid, maybe you should—” 

And Wally was gone. 

“This must be some sort of cosmic payback for the headaches I used to give Kilowog,” Len muttered. 

Still, he wasn’t surprised when Wally found a way to triumph over Dr. Alchemy a few hours later. 

“Kid’s got the makings of a great hero in him. He just needs to slow down and learn how to control that temper of his.” Lisa smiled. 

“Well, if anyone would know what it takes to make a great hero, it would be you, Lenny.”

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #24

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 2, The Clue, quite sure

...

Hairstyle Notes

The hair is long and will vary in fluff dependent on the camera angle. It gets most decidedly and noticeably more fluffy right before Crowley sets the place on fire. I think the headband changes too.

With the presence of an angel, no humans yet, and having his sunglasses off, the space gives Crowley the longer hair that better matches a supernatural reading.

Once the humans arrive, the fluff in the hair decreases on the camera angles most likely representing the POV of the children.

With supernatural power being all the more active when the fire is about to start, the hair gets all the more fluffy.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley walks on a rug earlier in the scene. Aziraphale has a self-touch with his hands.

Keziah has a self-touch with folding her arms before the fire starts. Enon touches Aziraphale's clothing and touches his younger sister, Jemimah.

Jemimah has the main earthly object of the scene with her pot. This object is not a piece of clothing or body part, nor is it generated through a supernatural power. It's an earthly object of Earth, touched and made by a human.

The ox that will be eaten later is prominently visible throughout the scene.

Crowley's fire probably still counts as an earthly object touch since fire burns things on Earth.

There are various questions and names. Each child's name is said at least once. Questions include, "Are you a demon?" and "Can't you save us?"

A Rule of Three is found with there being 3 children.

Paying attention to the pockets...

Aziraphale's hand lines up in notably particular ways with Crowley when he says, "I have no wine, child." Later, his left thumb CMC joint lines up in place of where the Tied Hands would be when he says, "Tonight!"

Jemimah is pocketed between her siblings, Keziah and Enon.

...

Story Commentary

We receive the second of the three lines by Crowley associating a demon with lying as Crowley says, "I'm a demon. I lied." These lines call back to season 1. When Crowley says, "Would I lie to you?" Aziraphale says, "Well, obviously. You're a demon. That's what you do." Such lines could be a clue to Aziraphale's POV within the story.

Otherwise, they add up to showing that yeah, Crowley lies but that doesn't mean he lies because he is a demon, despite the literal words. Crowley lies because he uses deception as a strategy, in more ways than one.

The two older children, Enon and Keziah, are shown to be arrogant with the expectation that angels should just do what they want or their father wants. They have no regard for their own selves being in danger even though they are.

Crowley borderline gets defensive on Satan himself, his own boss, in response.

Jemimah endears herself to Crowley by noticing the eyes and asking the question of him being a demon. Even during the fire, she looks generally awed more than scared compared to her older siblings.

Crowley himself smiles, impressed that somebody noticed, and gives her a compliment, "Oh, she's good".

The fire reminds us of Crowley's association with the element as a demon, something to keep in mind with that ominous matchbox still in Heaven that will make at least one more appearance during season 2.

Otherwise, it's all very dramatic, drawing Crowley and Aziraphale to each other again. Crowley challenges Aziraphale's trust in him, and Aziraphale meets that challenge. Yes, after everything he saw with the goats and knows of Crowley up to that point—in a place engulfed in fire, he is quite sure the children are perfectly safe. He understands the lie this time.

Crowley makes his next move to drop them all into the cellar together and away from the burning fire.

I think this moment is one of the better ones throughout all of the minisodes because of that challenge in trust that they have and work through, together.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[random-fandom-chaos]

You’re Alright..I’m Here…

Hi! Hi! First ask! Thank you to: @arttime567!!!

Solar Angst! This takes place in Solar’s dimension in the start but in Sun & Moon’s dimension towards the middle or end. Basically Moon comforting Solar at the end

And if it’s Solar’s Moon than it’s: S!Moon

but if it’s New Moon than it’s: N!Moon

This is Solar’s POV! This wasn’t checked over-

Angst 💔 -to- Fluff 💕

pairings: None! All is platonic!

Characters: (New) Moon!, Solar, And Solar’s Moon

Started: 9:43pm!

Writer: Chaos

Leeets get to writing!!!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Here we go again…my Moon’s screaming…again…I get I did build a damn satélite without permission! You don’t have to explain…Ugh I wish he would kill me or something…

S!Moon: “The Gator’s coming later.”

Solar: “What- why?!”

S!Moon: “probably because you built a satélite without permission…”

S!Moon responded With a snarl…god I hate him…As he walked away I mumbled

Solar: “I built one for a friend…a better friend that’s you…”

Around an hour later I continued working on the go-karts…Stupid kids…they always manage to break them! They’re toddlers! How can they unscrew a dang bolt?!

I sigh…Finally being able to fix the darn thing…

As I walk back to trashed place I call “my room” I see Moon…he just glared at me…And pulled me somewhere?? That can’t be good..

S!Moon: “So?…How have you been doing on fixing My brother?”

Solar: “…it’s not as easy! We need new parts!”

I respond…so that’s what it’s about…

Solar: “He’s practically a vegetable-“

I get cut off my a slap…He looked at me angrily, and for the first time I feel…afraid?… S!Moon: “SHUT UP. JUST ORDER THE DANG PARTS I DON’T CARE.”

Of course he doesn’t care…I look at him

S!Moon: “I SWEAR- I should just kill you! You’re the reason my brothers like this! It’s your fault!”

I look up at him…sighing…Before running out of that room

…god I miss Lunar, After he came here to my dimension I still don’t know how! But he is a good kid…as if on cue I hear the portal…Moon wasn’t there here right now at least after his fit of anger he went to the gator’s…who could that be?….I See…ANOTHER MOON?!- F##k- gotta hide- gotta hide-

I managed to duck behind a play place there…That Moon looks around…I can hear him mutter

New!Moon: “Where is that dude…Lunar told me about him…”

He walked around- WAIT. LUNAR?!…WHAT DID HE SAY… I stayed hidden probably a damn second away from a panic attack as I drop down with my knees toy chest just waiting to see what happened…again that darn feeling! The feeling of being afraid! I hate it. I just stay there…oily tears softly spill- WAIT- NO- nonononono- this can’t be happening I can’t cry. Not here. No…C’Mon Solar! Stay strong…That Moon can’t know you’re here…I was shaking though…my anxiety was at its peak…I was muttering curses before feeling a…soft hand? On my shoulder?…SHI- that’s the other Moon…please don’t hurt me- please…

Solar: “Fuc-“

I softly muttered flinching and backing away from him…What’s he going to do to me?…He give me space- what- He just kneels down next to me…I don’t mind…I don’t know why I don’t mind! He looks kind…WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME-

N!Moon: “Hey?…You’re Solar right? Lunar’s talked about you…he wanted me to come get you?….I don’t know, but by the looks of this place I think it would be better…”

I softly shook, Just sighing

Solar: “…Yes I’m Solar…”

the shakiness in my voice visible…why was I so scared?

He nodded and got me up…just walking me to the portal as I fidgeted with the gloves I had…Hoping my Moon wouldn’t come now…

Speak of the devil…

He Walked in…The other Moon almost instinctively pushed me into the portal…whom I fell FACE FIRST. Into…him soon jumping in. Solar: “…ugh…”

N!Moon: “You good?”

I give a thumbs up

Solar: “Who even are you?”

N!Moon: “I’m Moon…Lunar’s older brother…He isn’t here right now…Anyways…are you okay…you looked a second away from a panic attack back there-“

he pulled me up to my feet as he took me to his room, still talking or asking questions I answered appropriately for my standards.

He just sat me down on one of his chairs at his room and hugged me?…I didn’t know why but I just…Cried? In a very long time…My mind is foggy and fuzzy since I just let my emotions out…This Moon comforts me…This feels so weird but calming? He just hugged him tightly…

N!Moon: “I know I just met you but I heard of the horrors of that place…but..”

he shakily sighed

N!Moon: “You’re Alright…I’m Here..”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Time ended: 10:13pm! @arttime567 Hi! I hope you like it! I tried my best! I’m sorry if you didn’t find it to your satisfaction.

❤️Thanks for reading lovelies

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 5

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas are intersex (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

5. Robert Wheeler

Just as the bond is settling, someone from Bucky's past shows up unexpectedly.

“Good boy,” Steve praises again, when Bucky obeys him and finishes a fair amount from the breakfast tray.

By the time they’d woken from their nap it’d been nearly noon, so they nuked everything and had breakfast for lunch. Bucky’s been saying he isn’t hungry, but he needs carbs and sugars during his cycle, and thankfully he’s been very compliant to Steve’s commands now that they have each other’s pheromones in their systems.

They’re bonded.

Steve had Voiced for him to eat at least one of the pancakes, “with plenty of syrup.” Bucky ate two.

Once he's finished, Steve puts the tray outside the suite and relocks the door. There’s a notification flashing on the room’s tablet. He pulls it down to check and sees it’s a message from Banner.

B. Banner M.D. [om-Sex&Repro]: We need samples: CBC, BMP, TFT. And a urinalysis.

Steve twists his lips and types back: Urgent?

The tablet chimes as Banner’s reply comes through.

B. Banner M.D. [om-Sex&Repro]: No. After his next insemination would be ideal.

Even Steve has to grimace at that one. People in his field can tend to become callous and clinical in their language over time. Steve really hopes he isn’t that bad yet. There’s a message from Sam as well, marked from earlier that morning.

S. Wilson R.P.N. [om-Psy]: I have him booked for a session. Banner knows to send him my way once you two are done shacking up. And they’re scheduling a care plan conference at his discharge. Barton says the foster parents will probably show, so you should prepare him for that.

Steve’s still frowning at that when the tablet pings another incoming message. “Christ.”

C. Barton L.C.S.W. [om-Care]: Somebody from his home situation showed up. They’re forcing legal into a meeting. Today. They won’t get him, but Phil wants you there if possible.

Another, automated notification pops up on the home screen. It’s from legal, informing Steve of the conference room he’s now supposed to try and get to in only a few hours. Tense, he grits his teeth and tries to mentally clock out if he could possibly get Bucky down to a dip somewhere around 3:30. That’d feasibly give him time to—

He glances up to see Bucky, sitting in the bed and watching him use the tablet. “What’s it say?” Bucky asks.

Steve hurriedly sends back a thumbs up emoji to each of the messages and closes out the app. “Just a few staff notes,” he says, purposefully vague. Bucky might panic if he knows anybody from his old life is here trying to claim him. “The doctor wants to test your blood again. And I’m supposed to try and make a meeting in a few hours.”

Bucky shrinks into the back wall of the nest. “Oh. So … you’ll leave me alone? And somebody else is going to come and—”

“No,” Steve cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, nobody else is coming. I’ll do the blood draw myself.” He sees Bucky visibly relax at this, and offers him a tender smile. “I promised you, remember? Nobody but your Support touches you while you’re in here.”

“And that’s you.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, Buck. That’s me. Did you get enough to eat?” He goes over to the counter and grabs a protein bar for himself. He’s got it ripped open and half the thing rammed down his throat by the time he turns back around to face Bucky. The omega has rolled up the sleeve of his bathrobe and is blinking at Steve expectantly. Steve makes a sound past his mouthful of granola and swallows. “Aw, no, not yet, Sweetheart.” He walks back over to the bed and stops Bucky with a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no rush. It can wait.”

He purposefully doesn’t mention the ‘insemination’ factor from Banner’s message. Knotting Bucky’s body and exposing him to alpha semen during his heat is a therapeutic tool that’s part of what’s helping here, but Steve is almost positive that the kid doesn’t really understand that. Bucky’s certainly had zero sex education on such topics, and Steve doesn’t think bringing up words like ‘insemination’ would be helpful at all. “I’ll take your blood later,” he simply tells him, then changes the topic by asking the omega if he’d like to use the bathroom or maybe watch a show during the lull before his next peak. “They’ve got Netflix and Hulu,” he says. “Disney Plus too now, I think.”

Bucky glances briefly at the tv on the wall, but then decides, “... Yeah I’ll grab a shower.” He wrinkles his nose and grimaces down at himself. “Cause, ya know, I probably stink by now.”

Steve laughs. “Oh I’m sure we both do. We’re just nose-blind to it at this point.” He cheerfully reminds Bucky that the tub has jets, and Bucky perks up and heads into the bathroom to investigate. Steve doesn’t follow at first, convinced that the omega will want his privacy.

But Bucky soon reappears in the bathroom doorway, peeking back out. “Um, the tub’s big,” he says. “... Wanna share?”

“Sure.” Steve’s hands go to the tie of his robe, but then he hesitates. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

Bucky looks down and shrugs, heat collecting in his cheeks. But he surprises Steve by throwing out a blithe little, “I mean I’ve already seen you naked, Steve. But if you’re too shy …” He shrugs dismissively and turns to walk back into the bathroom, out of sight.

Steve chuckles and follows after him with a grin. If the kid is feeling relaxed enough to make jokes at Steve’s expense, then they’re probably doing okay.

Once they’re dried off from the bath, Steve starts to reach for their robes again but Bucky quickly touches his wrist and shakes his head a little. “No?” Steve checks softly, noting the rising flush under Bucky’s skin. “Okay Honey, okay.”

Bucky climbs back into the nest and rolls around a bit, rubbing his face in the piles of soft blankets, picking up Steve’s scent again.

Steve watches it fondly and with a small thrill of possessiveness that he can be almost certain is coming from their bond. Bucky’s gone increasingly non-verbal again since he let Steve hold him in the tub and rub soapy hands all over his body. “C’mere,” Steve murmurs as he gets into the bed, guiding Bucky to lie on his back and crawling over him. He kisses him down into the sheets, still able to taste the remnants of maple syrup on his lips. “Hey Sweetheart,” he rumbles, propping over him on his elbows. He idles a thumb at the edge of Bucky’s damp hairline, clocking his pretty blue eyes and his pupils, blown wide in arousal once again. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” Bucky whispers, squirming under Steve’s bulk and parting his legs more. He’s been more relaxed with the bond, more pliant. “Um ... I think it’s coming back,” he admits.

Steve glances over to the clock on the wall: 12:27pm. He’s got the next three hours to get Bucky through this peak. “Yeah. Well it’s been a while, so that’s not a surprise.” He presses kisses to his lips, keeping it gentle and shallow until Bucky starts to ask for more by venturing out with his tongue in timid little licks. Steve hums in approval and gives him a slow, purposeful swipe of tongue, dipping into his mouth and relishing the whimper he makes.

They kiss like that for a bit, Bucky humping his half-chubbed little cock up against Steve’s abs and Steve feeling his own cock getting rock hard at the increasingly strong smell of slick. “You wet, Honey?” he asks, when Bucky has started squirming and whining like he wants more. “You want to have sex again?”

Bucky nods. There’s a little color in his cheeks but Steve’s apt to believe it’s more from arousal than shame now. Bucky can sense Steve’s urges through their new bond, after all. He can feel the proof of how much Steve wants him, how desirable he finds him, and it’s helping him to not be as embarrassed. “But can we …” he starts, but cuts himself off unsurely.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve prompts. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Well … this way I can see you,” he murmurs, still shy but forging ahead. “Um, and it’s … it feels closer, ya know? I like it when I can, like, touch you and stuff.” He slides his hands over the tops of Steve’s shoulders and his upper arms, eyes going half lidded as he drinks in the sight of the alpha's body. “Can we?”

“Of course,” Steve coos, pride flowing through him at Bucky’s improved confidence, at him asking for what he wants so sweetly. He cups Bucky’s jaw and draws him in for another kiss to show him how pleased he is. “We can do whatever you want, Baby. Whatever makes you feel good.” He reaches down between their bodies and finds Bucky’s cock. He’s small there; soft and delicate, just enough that Steve’s palm barely covers everything from root to tip when he wraps his hand around him.

Bucky gasps quietly when Steve starts working it, more of a pulsing squeeze than actual stroking, and his hips judder up into it. “Oh!”

Steve keeps eye contact the whole time, watching, turned on by Bucky’s easy reactions. “You want to cum like this?” he asks, and Bucky gives a breathless little nod. Steve smiles. “Okay.” It only takes a few more minutes of gentle touching, and then Bucky’s tensing up and moaning, what meager ejaculate his body can produce wetting up the inside of Steve’s hand. “Good boy,” Steve praises, kissing along his neck and shoulder as he recovers. “Beautiful, Bucky. Yes. I bet that felt so good, didn’t it?”

Bucky nods weakly, still catching his breath. “Yeah. Oh.”

Steve chuckles and waits him out while he calms back down. Like beta women, omegas don’t have much of a refractory period, and in estrus they tend to need four to eight orgasms every time their cycle peaks. So, knowing his job isn't done, Steve lets Bucky’s cock go and looks back down at him. “Face to face?” he rechecks, stroking a thumb tenderly along his cheek. “You’re comfortable with that?” He’s not going to say one word about the rape if the boy doesn’t initiate it himself, but he now knows a few specifics on how Bucky was violated, and he wants to give him plenty of opportunity to decide on what his feelings are as they move along. Triggering distress in a tied omega is something that Steve’s dealt with before and wants to avoid at all costs. It’s not the easiest thing to change positions once knotted, after all.

But Bucky smiles and nods, pulling down on Steve’s neck for more kisses—which Steve happily gives—and bringing his knees up higher around Steve’s hips. “Yeah,” he breathes, “yeah I am.”

If they didn’t have the physicality of the bond, Steve would ask again, but he can feel the certainty and safety that Bucky feels, and that’s enough to have him nodding, reaching down to run fingertips over the omega’s slit. Bucky whines and tries to tilt up into it as much as he can, so eager from only a touch. And Steve can understand because he feels it: Bucky is soaked already, so slick that Steve’s fingers just glide right through, effortless. He hums and pulls away so that he can kneel back between Bucky’s legs. He can’t resist, he wants to see.

He hushes Bucky gently when the boy whines at losing their full body contact. He guides Bucky’s knees higher, pushing, making him spread his feet farther apart in the sheets. “Good boy,” he praises. “There you go. Let me see you, Gorgeous.” Bucky whines and shuts his eyes like he can’t take the scrutiny, but he’s still humping the air, tilting up for more. “Shhh,” Steve soothes, running his hands over the skin of his lower belly and hips, framing his pelvis as he stares. He represses the moan that’s building in his throat, his own hips twitching once and his balls giving a mightly throb at the pornographic sight before him. “Fuck,” he can’t help but whisper.

Bucky’s sex is pink and glistening, outer lips swollen and inner lips bloomed open from his first orgasm. It’s obscenely beautiful. Steve loves getting to see such a sweet cunt unfurl under his attention, loves slipping the pads of his fingers through all that wetness, watching that vulnerable little hole pulse and clench on nothing.

All he wants in the world is to bury his cock inside and never come out.

But they’re not here for him. They’re here for Bucky. So he ignores himself for the moment and continues to explore Bucky instead, stroking along the delicate lips of his sex. Bucky’s only a little different here than a female would be, but he’s still got all the same nerve endings in almost all the same places, and Steve wants to give him pleasure in every way possible. He uses both hands, thumbing errantly along the underside of Bucky’s little cock with one hand while sliding the fingers of the other through his sopping folds, up and down, giving just the barest bit of pressure. It’s so slick, so fun to play with, and Steve takes the time to tease him, avoiding penetration for long minutes.

Until Bucky opens his eyes and chirps in annoyance. Steve laughs in surprise. “Didn’t know you could make that sound, Honey.”

Bucky’s face flushes harder. “N-neither did I.”

There’s the tiniest bit of self-consciousness there, so Steve finally dips the very tips of two fingers in at his entrance and tells him, “I like it. I like an omega who asks for what he wants.”

Bucky groans and his hips jerk up, making Steve’s fingers slide inside by an inch. “Oh … fuck.” His eyes slip closed. “S-steve.” Steve watches his face carefully to make sure it’s good for Bucky as he slowly presses all the way in. Bucky breathes open-mouthed, eyes closed and an agonized little pinch appearing between his eyebrows. But it’s from pleasure. Steve starts fucking him softly on his hand, bumping knuckles against his mound on the way in, curling fingers on the slow drag out. “Oh, oh, oh,” Bucky pants; tiny, sweet little sounds that get stronger the closer he gets. He grabs suddenly at Steve’s wrist between his legs, not to stop him but to urge him on, and Steve grins and goes a little harder.

“Right there, huh?” he purrs.

Bucky's eyes are still closed but he nods his head tightly, whispering, “... f-ffuck. Ohh.” He’s gripping Steve’s wrist hard, clinging to the part of him that’s giving him so much pleasure, rocking his hips against it as his breath hitches in desperate little 'ah, ah, ah's. “M’gonna cum," he gasps. "Steve. I’m, I’m gonna …”

Steve rumbles low in his chest and reaches down to give his own cock a merciful squeeze. “Yes, Bucky,” he praises, fucking his fingers in faster, the noises wet and sloppy. “Good boy. That’s what I want. Come on now, right on my hand. Lemme feel it.”

Bucky fights for it for a few more seconds, then he cries out sharply and jerks, his cunt pulsing rhythmically as he starts to come. There’s a wet gush against Steve’s palm, and then a bunch of high, hurt little moans and sobs of “shit, shit, onghfuck!”

Steve groans at the feeling of it, at the sight and sound of Bucky gasping and riding his pleasure out against his hand, humping down mindlessly through the entire orgasm. “Fuck, Honey,” he whispers in awe.

“Ohh.” Bucky lets all his breath out in one big ‘whoosh’ and goes limp against the sheets, his death grip dropping away from Steve’s wrist. “Oh, man.”

Steve withdraws, using his absolutely drenched hand to tug on his own aching cock a few times. “Feel good?” he asks, voice coming out deeper and rougher sounding than intended.

Bucky hums and nods. His eyes open lazily. “Mm. Yeah. Really good.” He locks onto Steve's stroking hand, arousal growing in his eyes at the sight of his own slick coating the alpha's cock.

Steve gives him an easy grin and reaches out to swipe over his soaked cunt again, gathering even more slick to wet himself up with.

Bucky moans. “Oh my god, that’s so—” he swallows thickly, cutting himself off. Steve feels a pang of sadness, because he can tell when Bucky’s tamping down his attraction, can sense the intrusive thoughts and conflicting feelings he’s having again. His shame is creeping back in.

“Hey.” Steve snaps, a low, dominant growl starting up in his chest. He’s Voicing when he quietly orders, “Look at me, Omega.” Bucky snaps right to attention, wide eyes tripping down to Steve’s huge cock, and Steve hums his approval. “Yeah, that’s it. Watch me. Look at it. Watch me touchin’ myself.” He gives a lewd squeeze and drag, letting all the slick squelch between his fingers, and chuckles when Bucky looses a little, uncontrolled moan. “Yeah, exactly. Y'see that?” He wrings his fist up beneath the fat head of his cock, forcing a bunch of precum out of the slit. It rolls over his knuckles. He groans indulgently and finds Bucky’s eyes again. “That’s all because a’ you, Honey. Look how good you make me feel.”

Bucky whimpers and squirms, obviously pleased, so Steve keeps on using the praise and dominance and his own hand around his dick to distract him, telling him how gorgeous he is, how natural and good, how much Steve loves touching him and watching him come. It works, in that Bucky loses his reservations and his hips start to move again, tensing and releasing in little pulses that he probably doesn’t even know he’s doing. “Steve,” he says. “Steve can you?” He reaches for him, tries to pull his big body back down close, and of course Steve obeys.

“Course I can, Sweetheart.” He lies back over Bucky and lets his cock drag against his groin a few times, back and forth, their two very different cocks lined up and brushing together. “Want me inside you? It’ll feel so good, won’t it?”

Bucky makes a meek little sound and nods, tilting his pelvis up to try and get him lower, where he’s aching for him to be. “Yeah. Please.”

Steve reaches down to guide his cock up and down through the slick folds of his cunt. “Yeah, okay. Here you go.” He allows himself another few indulgent swipes before letting the head catch at Bucky’s entrance. He lets go of himself, propped on his elbows as he watches Bucky’s face, watches his expression as he slowly, slowly pushes in.

Bucky’s irises flare and his breath shudders and trips as Steve slides all the way home. Finally, when they can’t get any closer, he lets out a sob and wraps himself around Steve, feet hooking behind his thighs and arms grabbing around his shoulders. Steve lets him cling, lets him bury his face against his neck and mouth needily at his glands. Bucky starts crying, rubbing his tears against Steve’s skin.

“Shhh,” Steve soothes, nuzzling into his neck in return, not thrusting yet. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He strokes at Bucky’s sides, up and down his ribcage, promises softly against his bond mark, “Only when you’re ready, Buck. You just tell me when.” It’s only because of their bond that he knows he doesn’t have to be worried about the crying. They’re tears of grief, but not distress. And there’s relief there, too. Steve hums against Bucky’s skin and gives him time. He never expected a miracle out of the poor kid. This has got to be equal parts devastating and pleasurable for him. “You’re so good, Honey,” he tells him, murmuring kind, understanding things for Bucky to latch onto. “So brave. I know it’s hard. It’s gonna be okay. Gonna take care of you.” Bucky calms down over the next few minutes, tears going sluggish and then disappearing altogether. When he stops clinging to Steve enough to look up at him, his eyes and cheeks are still wet. Steve offers him a tender smile. “Feel better?”

Bucky nods, licking his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Steve says, gripping him a little tighter. “Whatever feels good. That’s what I said. If you need to cry, that’s just fine.”

Bucky relaxes and his body loosens a little bit more. He moves his hips experimentally, looking up with an expression that makes Steve’s balls throb. “Please,” he says, hands migrating to the backs of Steve’s arms, up to his shoulders and back down again. “I’m ready.”

Steve smiles and leans down to kiss him as he pulls out and pushes back in. He begins to roll his hips, setting into fucking Bucky with a steady, if somewhat slow, rhythm. And it’s exquisite, has his cock pulsing with need and his knot aching within minutes. He has stamina though, knows he can fuck Bucky through at least one more orgasm before he gives in to his own.

And Bucky is so perfectly responsive beneath him, moaning little sounds of pleasure and pushing up into every thrust, hands roaming ceaselessly over his back while he mouths at his neck. “Oh, ohSteve,” he sighs when Steve has grabbed behind his one knee to hitch it higher and rut deeper. “Yeah.”

Steve grinds slow and hard against him, keeping himself buried in Bucky’s warm cunt. “You close?” he asks, feeling Bucky’s fluttering walls as he holds still. Bucky whines and nods, trying to move his hips, to get more. Steve growls and obliges, fucking him firm and with purpose, grinding in and barely pulling out, making him feel it deep, getting him close.

Bucky’s soaking wet and his cunt makes filthy noises with each thrust, getting wetter and wetter until he cries out and starts to come. Steve shoves a hand between their bellies and thumbs rapidly under the head of his cock, prolonging it for him. "Aw, yeah Honey. There you go, there you go ..."

It’s gorgeous, Steve could watch it all day. But eventually Bucky’s orgasm subsides. When it’s clear he’s done, Steve kisses him softly. “Feel good?” he murmurs. Bucky nods his head, still calming his breathing. “Can I knot you?” Steve asks, desperate to do it. But then he catches the eagerness in his tone and revises it to a more open ended: “Do you want me to knot you?” He needs to make it Bucky’s choice. Everything, every step. He waits for an answer and kisses leisurely along the boy's jaw, pulsing his hips a little bit but keeping himself buried.

“Please,” Bucky eventually whispers, when his desire has started ramping back up and his hips are chasing Steve’s again. He kisses Steve and drags his lips against the short hairs of his beard. “Please.”

‘Please’ is Bucky’s way of asking for things he’s ashamed to want. Steve knows this well by now. So he hums in approval and tells him he’s a good boy, and he starts to fuck him again, this time letting his self control go enough to start seeking his own release. When he’s close he grunts a warning, but he knows Bucky can feel his knot growing erect, can feel it tugging more with every thrust, and he hasn't pulled away. He pushes into it, legs wrapping around Steve’s waist and holding him deep as he comes and ties them together.

Steve moans through it, eyes slammed shut because holy fuck does it feel good. Bucky’s cunt is so tight and wet and perfect. The sheer, primal satisfaction Steve gets from burying his knot and emptying his balls into a willing omega while he comes and comes and comes is the best feeling in the world. He registers Bucky’s body locking down in another orgasm, and it only prolongs his own. “Uhfuck,” he moans, humping into it, face buried in Bucky’s neck and mouth latching onto his gland in a hard suck. Bucky keens and Steve thinks he comes again from the stimulation, but he’s too blissed out in his own, drawn-out pleasure to be sure.

It feels like it lasts forever, but eventually they both come down. Steve rubs his face over every part of Bucky he can reach, a reassuring and possessive gesture, and Bucky hums little sounds of satisfaction as he lets it happen. When Steve pulls back enough to look him in the face, Bucky is totally relaxed, his heavy-lidded eyes blinking slowly up at him. Steve smiles and strokes his cheek. “You’re purring, you realize that?”

Bucky huffs and makes a face, but Steve can tell that he’s pleased. “Can’t help it,” he murmurs.

“You’re not supposed to help it,” Steve says happily. He can feel how relaxed Bucky is, can feel it so intimately from the bond. And it feels good in a way that’s intensely pleasurable but not exactly sexual, to be tied to him right now, his knot held snug inside his body. Steve sighs and gives him a lazy kiss. “It usually takes me about fifteen minutes,” he murmurs, knowing that Bucky will know what he means. They trade kisses and he asks, “You want to cum again?” He rolls his hips a little in indication.

Bucky smiles and shivers at the jolt of stimulation. “I don’t know if I can,” he says, but he rocks into their tie a few times to test it out. His breathing picks back up, the tension returning to his body as he works himself to another orgasm on Steve’s knot. It feels good for Steve but he can’t come again so soon, so he focuses on giving Bucky pressure, on encouraging him with sweet sounds and praise rumbled into his ear. Bucky exhales long and low after he comes that final time, relaxing again. “Oh, man.”

Steve smiles against his neck. “Feel good?” He’s nuzzling against the bond mark.

“Duh.”

He laughs softly, satisfied and beyond pleased that he’s just been able to bring Bucky to orgasm … five times? Six? One of those. He asks him if he wants to roll over together, so that Bucky can lie on top. “You can fall asleep if you want.”

Bucky makes a thoughtful noise and yawns and asks if that will be uncomfortable for Steve. “Mmm. Won’t I be too heavy?”

Steve rolls his eyes and holds onto Bucky's hips as he turns them, putting the omega on top and letting him settle into the new position. Bucky seems happy to rub his cheek against Steve’s pecs and chest hair, quickly growing still and quiet, though there is the faintest hint of a purr still coming from him.

Steve closes his eyes and lets his mind drift as he pets the smooth skin of Bucky’s back. He’s extremely content right now, primally satisfied in a way that only this can make him. Helping an omega feel good through their heat, helping them find that relief, is the absolute best feeling in the world. And Steve is so thankful he’s the one who gets to help Bucky now. The poor kid’s been through the wringer and he deserves a fucking break. He deserves to be treated like something precious.

Steve plans on doing just that. Peeking his eyes open, he glances around the mussed nest, spotting several blankets that’ve come loose from where they were tucked neatly in formation. Bucky’ll probably want to fix it before they go again, Steve thinks with a smile. They’re both still overheated from their sex, but once they cool down and lose the tie, he'll snuggle Bucky into the soft things around them, hold him close and watch over him until his heat peaks again.

After a long few minutes of his breathing deepening and slowing down, Bucky begins to snore the tiniest, most adorable snore ever, right against Steve’s pec. Steve chuckles and reaches for the nearest loose blanket.

There’s a simple blood draw chair next to the suite’s medical supply cabinet. Steve makes Bucky sit in it while he gets everything ready. Given that omegas tend to become dehydrated during heats, he selects a pediatric butterfly needle for the draw. Bucky whines from the moment Steve ties the tourniquet and starts tapping around for a vein.

“But Steeeve: I hate needles.”

In Steve’s experience, roughly a third of all patients are lookers, and the rest are looker-awayers. Bucky falls into the previous camp, needing to know exactly when the jab is coming. He still complains ad nauseam, and Steve catches on fairly quickly that he’s half doing it just to annoy him. It’s amusing.

The omega maintains his grumpy little grimace the whole time that Steve is taking his blood. “Hate needles,” he mutters, again, then gasps when Steve has the audacity to pinch him in retaliation. “Hey!”

“It’s already in, you big baby.” Steve removes the second collection tube and pops on the third, glancing up at Bucky’s face as it fills. “Stop looking, if it bothers you.” Bucky scowls at him. Steve finishes up with the whole process and has Bucky hold the cotton ball in place while he goes to root around for a bandaid in the supply cabinet. He grins when he sees the perfect box sitting there. Someone’s been stealing from Pediatrics. He rips the box open and hands one of the bandaids over to Bucky. “My little Pony, just for you, Princess.”

Bucky stubbornly takes it, slapping on the bright pink bandage and looking down at its pattern of googly-eyed little unicorn characters. He shrugs and looks defiantly up at Steve from his seat. “Whatever. I like it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Course you do.” He plucks a specimen cup from the cabinet and tosses it over. “Pee in the cup,” he says cheerfully. “Past the red line at least.”

Bucky complains less about this. He sighs and heaves himself up from the chair. Steve busies himself with labeling the blood vials while Bucky disappears into the bathroom. Bucky comes back out with the filled specimen cup. The dark color tells Steve that he was right to go with the butterfly needle.

“One, steaming-hot cup‘o’piss,” Bucky drawls, handing it over. “What’s this for, anyway?”

Steve’s still wearing gloves as he labels and bags the cup. “Just checking your progress,” he answers vaguely. “You had infection when they admitted you. The doctor ordered repeats on all your labs.” Luckily, Bucky doesn’t ask for any specifics, which is a relief. Steve would be legally obligated to tell him if he did.

The blood is for typical panels, but the urine is mainly to recheck for pregnancy. Hospital policy is to test throughout any patient’s heat where a support alpha or seeding machine is employed. Lab-manufactured seeding solution is sterilized, and Steve’s on the mandatory birth control for his position, but mistakes can happen, so they test for malpractice reasons.

He checks the clock and tenses when he sees that it’s already three-twenty. “Crap,” he whispers. Only ten minutes until the meeting with legal. He hurriedly starts collecting the cup and the vials in a little basket. He can drop it off at the nurses’ station, then if he gets like a three minute shower he’ll probably still have time to—

“What’s wrong?”

Steve pauses. He looks over to where Bucky has flopped back on the bed. The nest is a mess but Bucky seems unconcerned at the moment, attention fixed on the room’s tv screen as he fiddles with the remote to bring up Netflix. Steve tells him, “I’ve got that meeting, remember? They want me there in a few minutes.”

Bucky nods, getting distracted as he finds the horror section and starts scrolling through the titles. “Oh.”

“... You gonna be okay?” Steve checks. Bucky has seemed to be in the lull of a dip for the past half hour or so. It’s likely he won’t peak again for at least two more hours, and Steve has no intention of being gone for that long. “If I leave you here alone for a bit?” he adds. “I won’t be gone long. And you can page the nurses for anything you need.”

Bucky finally looks back over at him and smiles. “Yeah. ‘Course.” He waves Steve off, digging himself back into the messy remnants of the nest and clicking on what looks to Steve to be some sort of torture porn flick. Gross. “I’ll be fine.”

Between that and the bond, Steve can tell that Bucky really is feeling okay about being left alone for a time. Exhaling in relief, he turns for the door.

“What the fuck, Rogers?” Sharon snaps at him when he’s passing by. The next nurses are on shift at the desk and Sharon’s got her purse in hand, about to clock out. She’s pointing accusingly at Steve’s naked feet. “Gross!”

Steve grimaces just to avoid rolling his eyes at her. He’s in a hurry, okay? “Sorry!” He hustles down to the staff locker room and grabs a towel and pair of disposable shower shoes, because he’s not a monster. He doesn’t even give the water enough time to fully warm up before he’s stepping into the spray and yanking the curtain closed. The shower stalls are all outfitted with dispensers: shampoo, conditioner, and hospital grade scent-neutralizing body wash. Steve lathers himself up in record time, rinses, then dries off and goes to root through the supply cage for some scrubs that are big enough to fit his shoulders. He’d left his clogs in the heat suite, so he’s forced to don a pair of unisex keds that’re at least a half size too small, and that’s the best he’s going to manage. He glances at his phone: 3:29. Fuck.

There’s a missed text alert, too.

Clint Omcare guy [Today 3:22 pm]: You coming? We’re using the Soc. conference room.

Steve grinds his teeth and hurries for the elevators.

Most of Mercy General’s administrative staff is located on ground level. Steve takes the B elevator down to put him out closest to the building’s east wing, where social services, legal, and financial aid are all located. He pushes through the conference room door at precisely 3:33.

Six faces turn his way. Steve stalls as he tries to apologize for being late. “Sorry. Hope I didn’t hold things up. I was …” he twists his lips, not knowing a polite way to say ‘balls deep in our patient’. “Sorry,” he says again, pulling out one of the available chairs and sitting. He looks around. Phil’s there at the head of the table. Clint is sitting next to Sam, the woman from legal on his other side and Steve next to her.

The other two people, a man and a woman, sit isolated on the opposite side of the conference table. They stick out in their plainclothes, and Steve knows they must be the ones who are trying to get Bucky back. They’re from the cult.

The man looks like he's in his seventies, with mostly silver hair pulled back in a gross little ponytail. He’s older, but tall and broad in a way that hints he might’ve been an athlete, back in his prime. He’s got a look of authority about him, a stern face and the sort of posture that makes it clear he’s the kind of guy who’s used to getting his way.

The woman is much smaller and nearly diminutive in comparison. She seems meek, right down to her mousy brown hair and modest dress. She'd glanced up when Steve first entered the room, but now she’s back to keeping her eyes downcast and her hands tucked in her lap.

Steve instantly dislikes the both of them because he knows what they’ve done. He knows about the abusive way Bucky’s been treated and the messed up things he’s been raised to believe. These people, whoever they are, are responsible for Bucky nearly dying.

Phil is nearing the tail end of his introduction of Steve, explaining how Steve is the alpha support who’s been seeing Bucky through his heat. Disgust is already curling the old man’s lip as Steve nods in confirmation and says, “Hi,” without too much friendliness in his tone. “I’m Steve Rogers. I work on the hospital’s omega OB GYN ward. I’ve been caring for Bucky.”

The man scoffs. “Is that what he’s told you his name is?” When Steve and everyone else from that side of the table just stare at him, the man says, “His name is James.”

“And a last name?” Clint is holding his pen poised over a stack of forms. “Sir?”

The man shakes his head. “We forswear our earthly family names. James is simply James.”

“... Uh huh.” Clint looks about as unimpressed as Steve feels. “And your name is? Sir?”

“I am Russel. His father.” After a beat, the man seems to remember himself and flicks his hand at the woman seated next to him. “This is Rebecca. His mother.”

Steve catches Sam shooting him a dubious look from down the way. He gives Sam a matching look and a little nod back. This dude’s lying. Steve pulls out his phone, careful to keep it below the level of the conference table. He searches for the Wikipedia page on The Children of God’s Kingdom. When he finds what he’s looking for, he glances up. “You’re Russel Wheeler,” he says, confronting the man. “The head of your little religious group.”

Wheeler’s face goes stony but he holds his chin up. “I told you who I am.”

“Right. Bucky’s father.”

“James’ father,” he corrects. He and Steve kind of glare at each other from over the table for a long moment, until Phil clears his throat and says,

“Nurse Rogers has been booked into your son’s heat suite these past thirty-six hours. He’s the one who’s been most closely involved with James’ care. I promise you he only has your son’s best interests at heart.”

Steve watches as Wheeler’s face deepens in disgust. “'Heat',” he repeats, saying the word like it’s something dirty. “James was on suppressants. He shouldn’t be in heat.”

Steve leans forward in his chair. “We took them out. Suppressants are illegal for omegas under twenty-one,” he says. “You broke the law by putting that poison in him.”

Wheeler scowls. “I’m his father.”

“His biological father?” Steve challenges.

“Adopted,” Wheeler grits back.

“I’m sure you’ll have adoption papers to show us then. Legal ones?” Clint says.

Wheeler says nothing.

“You know he almost died,” Steve says icily. “People in your group assaulted him, and the reaction he had afterwards almost killed him. He could have died from all the years you suppressed his heats.”

The woman at Wheeler’s side finally looks up, her eyes round with alarm. “Is he okay?” she asks. Wheeler looks sharply at her for speaking up, but she keeps looking at Steve until he answers her.

“He’s okay now,” Steve says. He’s got a feeling that this might actually be Bucky’s real mother, if her concerned look is anything to go by. She seems way too young to have a seventeen year old kid, but cults have a reputation for child marriages, and Steve can see Bucky’s eyes in her eyes. She relaxes somewhat at his reassurance. “We’re helping him to recover,” Steve says. “He should be just fine.”

The woman’s shoulders sink in relief, but she quickly withdraws again once Wheeler makes an upset noise. “We want him home,” he says. “Where is he? We’re taking him home today.”

“Sir, I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Your son has treatments that he—”

“We didn’t consent to any treatments!” Wheeler snaps, cutting Clint off and hitting the table with his hand. The woman next to him flinches. “We don’t believe in all that stuff. Boy-girls. It’s unnatural and against God.”

“Sir,” Phil tries,

“You all are infringing on our religious liberty!” Wheeler declares. He points at Steve as if he’s the mastermind behind the whole situation. “You’re perverting him and forcing him to go against his religion!”

Steve glowers while everyone else shifts in place uncomfortably. “Hey,” he hisses. “You can believe whatever you want to believe, but not when it starts to spill over and hurt other people. Bucky almost died. Don’t you get that? Your so-called ‘religion’ nearly killed him!”

Infuriatingly, all Wheeler does in response is narrow his eyes and repeat, “His name is James.”

Steve scoffs and throws himself back in the chair, fed up. He folds his arms and shakes his head. Talking logic with these people is useless. The next person to speak is Phil. He and the woman they sent down from legal try again to explain the reality of the situation the Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler: Bucky isn’t in their charge anymore. OmCare has custody now. Bucky needs to receive ongoing medical care and therapy to get well.

“Unfortunately, sir, there isn’t anything you can legally do right now,” Clint finishes up at the end of the meeting, when they’ve made absolutely no progress with Wheeler. “There will be another custody hearing in two weeks. You’ll have to bring proof of identity and of legal custodianship, and you’ll need to get a lawyer to help you if you want any chance at getting your son back.”

“You bet your ass I will,” Wheeler says, standing abruptly from the table. He points angrily at Clint, and then at Steve. “I’m not going to let you pervert him against the Lord. I’ll be back. Come on,” he says to Rebecca, and when she doesn’t move fast enough he grabs her wrist and yanks her along. “I said come on!” He storms out of the room, promising that he’ll be back and that every single one of them is doomed to go to hell because of what they’re doing. Once it’s just Phil, Clint, Sam and Steve left in the room, the air seems to double in oxygen saturation.

It’s Sam who speaks first. He lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”

“You said it,” Steve grumbles. “What a piece of work.”

Clint makes a sound of agreement, still scribbling down notes on a paper form. “Well the good news is that it’s a pretty cut and dry case. Even if they are the real parents, he just openly espoused his nutso beliefs.”

Phil’s mouth quirks and he quietly checks, “Nutso?”

“An official, scientific word,” Clint maintains. “And we have him on record admitting that he's got no intention of following any medical care directive. That's good. No judge in their right mind is going to let an omega be dragged back into that cult. Religious liberty my ass. It’s completely unsafe.”

“Good,” Steve says, happy to hear Clint express it with such certainty. If anybody knows how the system works for minors in custody disputes, it’s Clint. And it’s just one less thing for Steve to worry about. He pushes his chair out from the conference table and stands up. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’m gonna head back up.”

Phil nods at him that he can go, and Steve leaves to go back to Bucky.

Art: @hopelessartgeek

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[gtbutterfly]

Quincy and the forest giant: part 7

got this one out a lot quicker than I expected myself to, I'm pretty sure this is the longest chapter so far, too. it has alot more going on than the last one has. I hope you enjoy it, criticism is appreciated,

CW: implied death, two non-sentient fish are caught, killed and eaten, general suspense i guess,

Here's the previous part:

______________________________________________________________

There were still plenty of clouds in the sky, but some of them had rained out or blown away during the storm. You could just barely see the sun setting and turning the sky orange under where the clouds ended. There was a faint rainbow in the distance. There were some spots in the clouds where the sky was visible. You could already see some of the stars through the holes. Ella looked up at the stars while she cupped me in her hands. I looked around the outside, I’ve been stuck inside of- whatever the building Ella lived in was called since the previous night. The trees were a lot bigger, not quite in terms of length from what I could tell, but the trunks were a lot thicker, and the leaves were three feet long. The grass on the ground seemed long and overgrown, but was otherwise normal. The ground was wet and muddy from the rain, I noticed some large, deep footprints in the dirt that must have been Ellas. The lake, like I saw it earlier, was massive and surrounded by even taller grass, the size of trees. Ella looked down at me,

“Hmm, I’m guessing this isn’t exactly the best day for star gazing, is it?” The giant said,

“Yeah…yesterday it was a lot clearer…” I said, “After the storm ends, there should be a few day with no clouds,”

“Do you ever go cloud watching?” Ella asked,

“well…I guess so. Not as much as I go stargazing,” I said,

“Such a shame it's so cloudy,” Ella said, “it looks like it would be a pretty good sunset otherwise,”

“Yeah…maybe we can….um…look at it some other time,” I said. The giant looked down at me in her hands.

“Oh, well,” Ella said, looking to the side, as if to avoid eye contact, “I wouldn’t count on it. You're probably not gonna be allowed to come back here,” 

“Oh…oh yeah…” I said, looking down, “I’m not gonna see you after tomorrow, aren’t I?” 

“I don’t think so,” Ella said, “it's probably for the best, anyways. I wouldn’t want to accidentally….lose my temper around you again…” she said, rubbing the back of her next while still holding me in one hand.

“Hey, it's alright, I’m fine now,” I said, looking up at her, “I know it wasn’t on purpose,”

“That’s the thing, it wasn’t,” Ella said, looking down, “I could've really…hurt you, Quincey, and I wouldn’t even be trying to. It actually… kind of unbelievable your not scared of me right now,”

“well…I guess I sorta am,” I said, “but…I’m more used to you now ... .and I know you don’t want to hurt me in any way…” Ella sighed,

“Don’t get too used to me, kid,” she said, “I’m glad you are and all, but stay on your toes…I don’t want you getting hurt by me if anything happens,”

“...ok Ella,” I said, holding onto her thumb while in her hand so I didn’t fall. “So…how often do you….interact with…normal sized people?”

“At least once a month,” Ella said, “they- the people I work for show up each month to check on me, and give me food and supplies and such. They don’t like me getting too close to them, or picking them up, so I don’t have much experience with that,” Ella sighed, before continuing, “Like, once or twice a year, some little human like you wanders into the forest, and I take them, and giving them to the people I work for.” she smiled slightly at me.

“The people that go missing each year?” I asked, “but….they don’t come back…”

“Oh, no, not them,” Ella said quickly. “Ever hear of anyone in your town going on vacation unannounced or getting lost for a day? Yeah, those are the ones I took,”

“Oh…ok then….” I looked down nervously, 'so…what happened…to the people that went missing?’

“...” Ella was silent for a moment, before she shrugged, and tried changing the topic. “I should get you something to eat again, this is about the time kids like you eat dinner, right?”

“Um….yeah, sure….” I said, rubbing my arm while biting my lip. Ella wrapped her fingers around me tightly so I wouldn’t fall, before walking a bit. 

“So what do you like, kid? I know you don’t want that stale bread again.” Ella asked me, “you eat meat?”

“Um, most meats, yeah,” I said, “what do you have?”

“I can get fish, venison,” 

“Whats venison?” I asked, sounding worried and panicked,

“Fish it is then,” Ella said, stepping towards the lake. She got on her knees and placed me on the ground next to her. “Don’t go anywhere Quincey, if you do, I will find you,”

“Um, ok, I won’t,” I said, looking down. I wasn’t even planning on running away then in the first place, but Ellas threat made sure I won’t. The giant took a piece of bread she pocketed earlier and crushed it in her hands. She threw the crumbs into the lake. There were some bubbles in the water for a moment, but I couldn’t see any fish from where I was standing until Ella plunged her hand into the water and pulled out four of them in her fist. Some of the water got on me. She flicked two of the fish back into the water and squeezed the other two. I heard some mild cracking before the sound of the fish flopping in her palm stopped. She looked down at me, and must have noticed my expression after seeing her catch and crush the fish.

“You good?” she asked, tilting her head,

“Um…yeah… I just…don’t like the smell of raw fish,” I said. It was partially true.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out with that, I probably should've told to to close your eyes or something,”

“It's alright,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. Ella held out her hand for me,

“Come, I’ll cook these for you,” the giant said. I climbed into her hand, and she carried me back inside.

The fish were crushed flat, unseasoned, and burnt. Ella had used a piece of metal from a broken car over a campfire-sized fire to cook them. She had trouble flipping the fish over with her size, burning them on one side. She didn’t have any seasoning, and most of the juice was squeezed out of them from when she killed them earlier. Other than that, the fish tasted fine for the most part, at least better than the bread she had. I had to eat with my hands since Ella didn’t have silverware my size, or any silverware for that matter. She ate with her hands too, though she ate her fish a lot quicker since it was about the size of a piece of candy for her. I ended up with grease from the cooked fish on my hands. It felt awkward eating with my hands and making a mess of myself while Ellas' giant eyes stared down at me.

“So….do you have…paper towels?” I asked her,

“I have a normal towel that’s 50 feet long,” Ella said, looking down at me.

“W-why?” 

“Do you think I just, not wash myself out here?” Ella asked,

“Well…um…you mean…like…in the lake?” I asked,

“If it comes to it, I’ll use lake water to drink and bathe,” Ella said, “Usually I try to use buckets of rainwater, more sanitary that way,”

“Oh…” I said, looking down, “...could I….um…..”

“You can shower tomorrow when you get home, Quincy,” Ella said.

“O-ok,” I said, continuing to eat the fish. Ella looked at the grease on my face and hands.

“I will give you some water to rinse your mouth and hands off before bed, m'kay?” she said,

“Ok… thanks,'' I said, smiling lightly while looking down. Eventuary I finished eating, and Ella got me a small amount of water to wash myself off. It was pretty dark outside now. Ella put me on top of the giant blanket that I woke up on that morning so I could sleep. She placed me and the blanket next to the same window I woke up next to, probably because she didn’t have anywhere else to put me for the night. 

“You're not like, afraid of the dark or anything,” Ella asked, crossing her arms and looking down at me while I sat on the blanket.

“N-no, I’m fine…I guess,” I answered, looking down.

“Try not to move from the middle of the table right here,” the giant said, “you don’t want to roll off the side in your sleep.”

“Ok…” I said, “um…see you tomorrow, Ella,”

“Good night, Quincy,” she said, before walking away.

Didn’t fall asleep for a while. I just laid there on the blanket in silence. I could hear Ella in the distance, her footsteps made vibrations in the ground. I couldn’t tell what she was doing, at one point it seemed like she was just circling around in the kitchen, at another she went back into the room I was in and laid on the massive couch. I didn’t know if she didn’t have her own room or bed, or if she didn’t want to leave me alone all night. At one point she sat on the couch and didn’t seem to move for a while. At first I thought she fell asleep, before I heard what I think was paper being turned over, Ella was reading something. I didn’t know how, since the lights were off and she wouldn’t be able to see, but she was. So I kept laying down with my eyes closed, but I still couldn’t manage to fall asleep. I thought it was the lack of a pillow at first, so I shifted the folded blanket to have a fold over that I could rest my head on. The blanket, despite being so big, was actually the thickness of a normal sized blanket. It was folded dozens of times, making it soft to lay on, and there was a small flap that was covering me. It was very comfortable, but I still couldn’t sleep. It was hard to figure out if this was because of my situation, being in the house of a giant person, or if it was just my usual insomnia. I sat up. I looked over where Ella was, she was still laying on the couch, I couldn’t tell if she had a book or not. I quietly stood up and turned towards the window sill. I could see outside from where I was.

The clouds were still there, but at most half the sky was visible. The moon shone past the clouds and reflected in the lake much more softly than the sun did. Wind blew through the branches of the trees and the tall grass. The sky was a dark blueish purple, with hundreds of stars spread across it like tiny holes with white light peeking through. The clouds seemed to be a dark, dark blue against the night sky. There were swirls and patterns of space dust and constellations. It was beautiful, and I didn’t know how I felt about it. I didn’t feel anything like I did before, it was definitely something, even if it was faint. I didn’t quite feel “happy” per say, I felt something similar to solemness, something that wasn’t sadness or happiness, it was almost like nostalgia, but I wasn’t reexperiencing anything, I couldn’t tell what from my past I could've been longing for, but I was longing for something, something I wasn’t aware I wanted. The feeling was almost physical, there was something physically in my stomach and my chest and my arms that I felt. It nearly felt like emptiness, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t empty, I felt something, or the absence of something. It almost felt cold. It was cold outside this time of year. But it was something more than that. Even when I sat down on the blanket and wrapped the fold around me, I didn’t feel any different. I didn’t feel any more warm, at least on the inside.

Suddenly I heard a sort of slamming sound, like a book being closed, but louder, yet it was still soft. I felt Ella standing up from the couch and sighing. I laid down and pretended to be asleep. I heard her walk around the couch toward the window still I was in front of. I felt her large presence over me, I had my eyes closed and tried to be as still as I could while I laid on my side. She leaned down at me, as if she were checking if I was really asleep. I felt her warm breath on my back as her massive face got within feet of my body. She rubbed my back gently with her finger, before walking away from me. I kept laying down in case she looked back to check again. I heard one of her giant doors open, and heard her walking through it. Still pretending to be asleep, I turned around to look discreetly. It was the door she went into earlier when she left me alone. Last time, she had closed the door, this time the door was open, probably because she thought I was sleeping. I heard some kind of fidgeting, like a dial or wheel being turned, it was too quiet for me to tell what it was exactly. There was some kind of static, which then got quieter to the point where I couldn’t hear it, but Ella could. She kept messing with whatever device she had until I heard her speak into it. The giant's voice was a whisper, butI could still hear her due to how big she was. I couldn’t hear whoever or whatever she was talking to.

“Hey, it's Ella,” the giant said, speaking quietly into whatever she had.

“....” there was some kind of response on the other end that I didn’t hear, Ella responded to it.

“Yes, the kid is still alive. They’re sleeping right now,” she said, turning towards me. I closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep.

“.....” there was another question on the other end of whatever she was talking to, I think it was a radio of sorts.

“There were some…hiccups when dealing with them,” Ella said, “I scared them a bit much when they started asking questions, but I made it up to them,”

“.......” 

“The kids fine now, they know to listen to me, but they’re not traumatize or anything.” Ella said.

“.........”

“what ? you mean…” Ela paused, “oh, they’re somewhat fond of me. They’re not too clingy or personal, but I guess they’re comfortable with me, I wouldn’t know what they see me as though,”

“......”

“...they’re a nice kid, I guess. I’ve definitely gotten to know them more than the other humans I’ve found passed the line.” Ella rubbed the back of her neck and looked down. “It's the most interaction with anyone I’ve gotten with anyone ever since you did this to me, thanks for that, by the way.”

“........”

“Yes, I am aware Quincys an orphaned child. I’m guessing that makes silencing them more difficult for you, doesn’t it?” Ella asked the person on the other side of the radio, “I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about tho-”

“.......” Ella was cut off by the voice on the other end of the radio. I saw her eyes widen.

“...what? No, I don’t…” Ella seemed to struggle to find her words, “he’s nice to talk to and all, but I wouldn’t…I don’t see him as… what makes you think I would be right for them?”

“........”

“I couldn’t take care of them, not for that long.” Ella said, “I could hurt him, I could lose my temper and crush him. Why, today I almost…” Ella stopped herself.

“..........”

“Nothing, nothing, nevermind.” Ella said, looking down. “Quincy is safe, and they are going back to their home tomorrow, that's final.”

“.......”

“No, they don’t know too much. They don’t know about the logging company, they don’t know what caused the disappearances, they don’t know about the trees, they don’t even know what I really am. They know no more than the other humans you send back home.”

“...........”

“Just because they’re 13 doesn’t mean they’ll tell everyone. Who’d even believe them?”

“.........”

“The whole reason you have me doing this is because it's too dangerous for normal humans to be out here,” Ella said, “Quincy is a normal human, if I lose track of him for a moment…”

“......”

“What?” Ella sounded genuinely shocked at whatever she was hearing on the other side, “no, you can’t...you don’t know if he’d even…..what if he ends up like derrick?” Ella was almost speaking at full volume now. She sounded angry.

“.......”

“I agreed to you doing this to me, and then you blackmailed me into staying, this is different! You want to force this kid to stay here and be…” she noticed how loud she was being. She looked at me. I closed my eyes tightly. 

“......”

“He wouldn’t want that for himself,” Ella whispered.

“.......”

“No one would want this for themselves.”

“..........”

“I said yes because things were different then, I didn’t mean to…”

“.........”

“Quincy didn’t hurt anyone like I did. He doesn’t deserve what I have,”

“...........'' There was a long pause. It seemed like Ella was just listening to whatever the other person was saying. Eventuary, she sighed.

“Fine, we’ll discuss it more tomorrow.” the giant said.

“......”

“Yes sir. See you,” Ella hung up the radio and sighed again. She looked down at herself, before looking towards me. I closed my eyes and turned away from her again. I heard and felt her walking towards me, before I felt her breath against my neck as she leaned down at me. She rubbed my back again and touched my hair with ehr index finger, before walking away. I heard rain start to fall again. Then I fell asleep.

[ejzah]

A/N: This is a ridiculous little idea that hit me one night (cause what else would I be thinking about at midnight?). Set seasons 3-4.

***

And Then She Blushed

Kensi stalked through the boat shed, in search of Deeks. They’d just finished a short undercover stint on the beach, and he’d disappeared about 20 minutes ago after they returned. She pushed through into the bathroom, Deeks’ name on her lips, and froze.

Deeks stood in front of the sinks, a towel in one hand, and most importantly, stark naked. At the sound of the door opening, he’d instinctively turned, giving her a flash of him from the back, and then a perfect view of his front.

Time seemed to still. Seemingly without her volition, her eyes moved over him, taking in every muscle and inch of tanned skin. It just have been only a few seconds, but it felt significantly longer by the time she made it back up to his face. Deeks looked equally shocked, eyes wide as the hand holding the towel hovered usually at his side.

“Crap,” he muttered, belatedly spinning around. Which meant now Kensi was staring at his perfect butt, which she noticed was a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin.

Then common sense kicked, and she turned around too. A burning hot flush slowly worked its way down from her cheeks to her neck and chest.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” she said, waving a hand that Deeks couldn’t see. “I should have knocked—”

“It’s ok,” he said at the same time.

“I was just coming to tell you—I’ll be waiting outside.” Once again, she gestured, even though Deeks likely wouldn’t see it, and best a hasty retreat.

***

Deeks got over “the incident”, as she was now referring to it in her head, far more quickly than Kensi did. When he came out of the bathroom, he looked a little awkward for a few minutes, studiously avoiding eye contact.

By the time they were halfway to their next destination though, he was cracking jokes and pontificating on the merits of various surf boards. Kensi made an occasional noise in response, but largely stayed silent. She was a little afraid of what would come out if she actually spoke. At one point, Deeks reached into the middle console between them, grazing her shoulder, and she visibly jumped.

“Hey, are you ok?” Deeks asked when they pulled up in front of their witness’s house.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly.

Deeks was quiet for a moment, then pursed his lips, considering her. “You’re thinking about seeing me naked, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “I haven’t given it a second thought.” Rolling her eyes at him, she opened the door and hopped out, slamming the door behind her.

No, she hadn’t given it a second thought. She’d given it a hundred thoughts. The image of his wet, naked form would probably be forever burned into her memory. It was so much better than she’d ever imagined.

She wondered what he’d looked like flushed with arousal. Or what he’d look like above her or beneath her. In her bed.

God, she had it bad. What was wrong with her.

“It’s ok,” Deeks continued, falling into step beside her as she started up the walkway. He tucked his thumbs into his pockets, upper lip curving in a half-smirk. Instead of annoying Kensi, it made her feel oddly tingly. “I have it on good authority that my butt is pretty spectacular. Mind-blowing, some might even say.“

“Oh my god, I am not thinking about your butt,” Kensi spluttered. “And don’t worry, it was nothing to write home about.”

“Uh-huh.” Not seeming bothered by her derision in the least, he knocked her shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that, Kensalina.”

Chuckling to himself, he jogged the last couple steps up to the doorway. Kensi couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way his jeans clung to thighs.

She really was in trouble.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 2 Changes

Faekah can't catch her breath, she stumbles backward until her back hits something sturdy and she slides down to the floor. She's gasping and clutching her chest as she can't seem to calm herself down. Her skin prickles and fluctuates between skin, fur, scales, and feathers as she closes her eyes and curls herself into a ball. Count. Count. Count. She gasps loudly and looks around her; lamp, couch, chair, TV, kitchen. Good. She can feel the hardwood floor underneath her, the cool wall she's leaning against, the weight of her jacket, the bunching of her pants. Cars honk outside, someone down the hall is listening to music a little too loud, her water cooler gurgles with a stray air bubble. The apartment still smells like coffee and her fresh berry air freshener. Her tongue prickles and waters with the rising need to vomit, but she swallows it back and slows her breathing. 

With a clear head she goes over all the possibilities; none of her coworkers know her secret as far as she's aware, and no one has a key to her apartment. Maybe Cooper isn't crazy this time after all. Logically speaking, she has a file in her apartment with information about her shortly after a leak. If someone was able to break into Umbrella undetected then her apartment might as well have had a huge neon sign saying 'door's unlocked. Welcome.' Her other worry is what is she infected with? Does this have something to do with the outbreak in Racoon City? Or because she's not human they think she's infected with something entirely different? Who else had their files stolen? There is one person who might know...

That next morning she makes a pitstop to her 'old' office building with a fresh batch of Streusel Jam Bars for her favorite security guard. She looks around for him but there's no sign of him anywhere so she goes to the front security desk. The man looks up at her and she tilts her head, realizing she doesn't recognize him but she recognizes the B.S.A.A patch on his shoulder. The man stands abruptly, looking her over and narrowing his eyes slightly in suspicion. 

"Can I help you?" He asks. 

"Yes I'm looking for Francis Stovack. He's usually assigned the nightshift."

"Mr. Stovack has been released from his duty."

"What? Why? Where is he?"

"I'm not a liberty to give out that information. If you have further questions you may set up a meeting with my superior officers."

"No-that's fine."

Faekah backs away from the front desk before turning on her heels and exiting through the front doors. Think positive. Maybe he was working when the leak happened and he got injured? He's probably recovering. That's it. Or he got fired because they think he's responsible for the leak. She needs answers. Why does Umbrella have this file in the first place? How long have they known? She feels restless and itchy, she wants so badly to run away from all this just for a moment. She pulls out her phone and calls Cooper, lying and telling him that she's sick which is painfully believable considering she never calls out. That should buy her the day, probably more if she really needed it. 

She takes the bus to the outer city limits, there's not much like home where she could run for miles on nature trails and forests. Mostly flat, vast farmland with sparse bundles of trees here and there. However, she did hear about one waterfall trail roughly an hour outside the city, about an hour and a half by bus. The second the bus doors open she hops out and instantly goes towards the hiking trail, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst water packs, hiking boots, trail poles, and vests. She carefully walks the trail until she comes to a bridge where the waterfall is visible, she looks around quickly to see if anyone is within eyeshot of her. What would be the least concerning thing to see? A wolf or bear would spark panic, it's too early for a bat, oh!

With a final look around she lets herself unleash her pent up stress and anxieties as her body molds and shifts into the form of a red fox. It's small, fast, and won't spark too much concern if spotted by another set of eyes. She slips under the bridge guard and jumps down onto the rocky embankment then dives into the cool water. Faekah feels closest to home when she's in another form, that itchiness no longer pains her and she can forget everything even if only for a moment. That moment turned into a few hours, and before she knew it, it was nightfall and she had no idea how to get back to the main trail. That's fine. The fox then leaps up and shifts into a bat, one of her favorite animals, and sores through the sky until she sees the lights of the lodge, and the flashing of the final bus to the city. She finds an opening behind the lodge where she transforms back, and rushes to catch the bus before the doors shut. 

However, the closer she gets back home, the more the stress and anxiety returns. She doesn't want to go home, it feels unsafe, tainted. Last night she wound up sleeping on the floor out of pure exhaustion. She goes home to grab the essentials, and since work is no longer an option, she spends the night in a hotel instead. The next morning she returns to work, refreshed, alert, and ready to act like nothing has happened. She's cautious around the armed guards, she keeps her badge displayed at all times, and makes sure she's wearing anything and everything with a logo or name tag on it. 

"Welcome back! Glad to see you're feeling better" Cooper proclaims. 

"Huh? Oh right, yeah."

Faekah says very little to Cooper, he might be apart of it. Great, now she's starting to sound like him. It's not a far fetched hypothesis though; they both started around the same time, he's basically been assigned to everything she has whether directly or indirectly, he very reasonably could be connected. While studying more slides of this mysterious mold specimen, her curiosity gets the best of her and she turns away to prep some slides of her blood. If she's infected with something, her blood would show it no? She looks through the lens, it wouldn't be the first time she's looked at her blood through a microscope, only this time she's looking for something. 

All looks normal, at least, her normal. Her blood still shows her mutation, and she's not seeing anything that would resemble increased signs of infection. Unless she's been infected for so long that it's infiltrated her blood stream, how would she know what to even look for? First she starts by studying how her blood reacts to different stimuli and compares it to the mold sample. Something inside her tells her that this mold plays a bigger role than previously thought. She becomes so absorbed into this new line of tracking, she hardly notices the commotion outside the thick, bullet proof glass. 

"Fae!"

She shoots her head up and looks over at Cooper who points toward the glass, she looks over to see the two armed guards being gunned down. She abruptly stands, spilling her current specimen. Her military brain tells her to hide and find a weapon, her scientist brain tells her to secure the specimen and get into decon. The glass cracks and creaks from the sheer amount of stray bullets hitting it, she's thankful for that, it buys her time. Cooper is standing frozen, unsure of what to do, so she grabs him by the arm and shoves him behind one of the desks, then she finds anything heavy. She grabs the leg of one of the metal desks and pulls, no time to worry about what Cooper will see or think. The leg snaps and breaks off with ease, she looks up to see a group of masked soldiers placing a bomb on the glass. 

Shit. 

Just in time she ducks behind the nearest desk as the explosion rings out, sending shards of glass flying. Feakah covers her head to avoid glass getting in her eyes, her ears bleed from the noise and sudden shift of pressure. There's only a loud ringing and muffled noises. There's clouds of dust in the air, making her cough and bring up part of her shirt to cover her nose and mouth. 

"Get the girl. We need her alive" the voice is muffled and sounds watery under all the ringing.

She freezes, a chill of panic sets up her spine and leaves only instinct. As one of the masked intruders rounds behind the desk, she leaps up, slamming the metal table leg across the stomach hard enough there's a watery cracking sound. The intruder drops, griping their rib area and dropping their gun. Feakah kneels and picks it up, shooting in the direction of the others. As soon as they start shooting back she hides behind the desk again, the ringing only amplifies from the loud rounds coming from the guns. 

"Hold your fire! We need her alive!" One of them shouts. 

"She shot first!"

"I don't care. Non-lethal obtainment!"

While they bicker she crawls to the other side of the lab where there's rows of riling cabinets, many of them fell from the blast and she can use those for coverage. She peaks out from behind, seeing three in total, at least in the room with her. All three are hiding behind something, and in the corner she sees Cooper.

"What about him?" One of them asks. 

"Shoot anyone but her."

She ducks down in time to hear another round go off, gasping and covering her mouth. Not this again. She can't. She must. Faekah gets back up and shoots, causing the three soldiers to duck once more into their own hiding. She has to get out of here, and the blast through the glass is right beside her. She stands, continuing to shoot and makes a run for it, not taking into consideration that there may be more on the other side. As she turns to make her exit, she comes face to face with the butt end of a gun hitting her square in the forehead. She groans loudly, falling back onto the shattered glass while gripping her head, watching as the lights slowly dim. 

Chapter 3

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter five | chapter four | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: poem credit: The Orange by Wendy Cope | Next chapter will take place at the community (finally !!!) **updated for mistakes**

word count: 5480

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Six

“Shit, shit, shit,” Joel is in a fury, banging his hands up against the steering wheel. You’re still half asleep, trying to force yourself to come to full consciousness as quickly as possible. Panic is running through your veins. 

“Joel, what’s going on?” Tommy’s tone is rushed and urgent; he had also been asleep. He’s now leaning up on the center console between you and Joel. You both exchange confused and worried looks at each other. 

“We ran out of fucking gas,” Joel says angrily as he pulls the car off to the side of the road, and it comes rolling to a stop. Before either you or Tommy can react, he is already halfway out of the door, slamming it with such force that the car shakes. 

Both you and Tommy hurry out of the car, grabbing your flashlights from your bags as it is still dark outside, and meet Joel at the back of the car. He has his flashlight in his mouth, frantically looking through the supplies. Tommy grabs the flashlight from his mouth, holding both of them at a farther angle, so Joel can see better. He finally pulls out a red gas container, shaking it before setting it on the ground and slamming the back shut. You flinch at the loudness of the sound. Joel takes a step back; Tommy is now casting the light on him. He is standing still with both of his hands on his hips and his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. You watch his chest rise and fall quickly as he breathes. Without saying anything, he abandons the gas container and returns to the driver's seat of the car. Tommy gives you a shy smile. 

When you get back in the car, Joel is resting his head up against the headrest, his eyes fixated on the ripped fabric of the ceiling. He’s playing with the hem of his sleeve, rubbing it between his index and thumb. You glance back at Tommy, who is digging through his bag. 

“I thought that’d be enough to get us there,” Joel breaks the silence; he sounds a little calmer now than before. “We’ll have to go out and look for more, so we can get you back as soon as possible, Tommy. You have any ideas? I don’t know this side of the area very well.” 

He turns back towards Tommy, who is pulling out his map. Tommy spreads it out on the middle console in the front and holds his flashlight up, shining the light down on the map. He begins to smoothly run his finger along the road we had been driving on. 

“Where would you say we are?” Tommy’s voice is calm. You’ve come to realize he is definitely better at working under pressure, always keeping cool, calm, and collected. However, Joel is better at the more hands-on stuff; he seems to be more tactical when it comes to things. 

Joel lets out a defeated-sounding sigh, before pointing to a spot on the map.

“Probably around here, I don’t know,” He taps over the spot a few times, before moving his finger down an inch. “We passed this exit about 15 minutes ago.”

“Alright, we still have an hour or so to drive,” Tommy says with a single nod. He runs his eyes over the map, looking like he is deep in thought. “There should be a factory not too far from here, maybe an hour's walk east of here, if I’m thinking of the right area. I got gas from there not too long ago; maybe there will still be some left. It shouldn’t be hard to get into. The doors were unlocked when I went... probably didn’t have the time to lock the place down when everything happened.” 

Joel still has his eyes fixated on the map, staring intensely at it. He is suddenly visibly frustrated.

“How long ago was not too long ago, Tommy?” He shifts in his seat, turning all the way around toward Tommy. “A few months ago? A year ago?”

Tommy is chewing on the inside of his cheek, refusing to match Joel’s gaze.

“What does it matter,” Tommy now sounds defeated, slowly raising the tone of his voice as he speaks. “I wasn’t the one who thought we’d make it there with no gas reserve, knowing that it loses potency over time.” 

“Oh, yeah, Tommy, this is all my fucking fault , ain’t it? ” A strong sense of hostility hung in Joel's tone. You were now leaning on the back of the passenger side door, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You were unsure whether you should intervene or stay out of it. “Is that what you want to hear? If we are bringing up everyone’s fucking faults, why don’t we talk about how you lost a vehicle and a ton of supplies, you wanna talk about that ?” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed, and begins to shake his head. For a while, no one spoke. Joel is still in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands so tightly that his knuckles are white. You’re still leaning up against the door; however, you shifted your body the other way, staring out of the passenger window toward the tree line. Your eyes are heavy and tired, but it felt wrong to sleep amidst the situation. Tommy is still trying to remember where the factory is; he’s talking to himself again, saying something like he thought he marked it on the map. I started marking everything once I started doing runs for Maria and her father, I think it's just off of Huntsman Road, or maybe Huntsborough Road, it's Hunts-something, he mumbles. Joel turns towards him with his face twisted in annoyance and loudly scoffs. The noise causes you to turn your body toward him. The dramatics of it almost makes you laugh. 

“You’ve checked the map a million times for the mark, it obviously is not there,” Joel follows up in a harsh, condescending tone. He hits the top of the steering wheel with his hands. 

Before Tommy can respond, Joel is out of the car and starts rummaging through the back again. At this point, it’s just before dawn. The sun has begun to peak above the horizon line and cast light upon the area. When he returns, he brings you and Tommy each a can of food, already open with a spoon sticking out of it. Sitting back in his seat, he starts going over the plan that he has come up with, grabbing the map from Tommy’s lap. He wants to walk east and look for the factory. It’s our only hope right now unless we want to try and walk back, Joel admits, peering back at Tommy.

“The three of us will go, get what we need, and leave,” Joel looks between you and Tommy. “We aren’t stopping for anything else, you got it? I want to get this over with.”

You nod your head, but Tommy doesn’t react. There’s a long pause before anything else is said. Joel is staring at Tommy, waiting for his response.

“I can’t go,” Tommy says plainly, Joel immediately begins to protest, but Tommy shuts him down instantly. “I can barely walk, Joel. I’ll only slow you guys down, plus we should have someone stay back and watch the car. I have a gun, if anything happens, I’ll be fine.” 

“You stay here with him, I’ll go by myself,” Joel turns and points at you.

“No,” Tommy exclaims. “She’s going with you, you’ll need the help, especially with your hearing.”

Joel brings both his hands up to his face, rubbing them over his face before turning away from Tommy. For a moment, you think about telling Tommy you’d rather stay back with him, as Joel seems to do well on his own, but you quickly remember Tommy expressing to you how much he worries about Joel, you didn’t need to make that worse for him. The right thing to do would be to go with Joel, whether you want to or not.

Joel reaches over you and grabs your pack that is situated on the floor between your legs before leaving to go to the back of the car again. You look back at Tommy, who appears to be beyond worried, he has abandoned his food, settling on just chewing the inner part of his cheek. Joel is taking things out of both of your bags and replacing them with more practical supplies for the run. More weapons and ammunition, less food; both your canteens were finally filled with water. Joel put one of them in his bag and the other in yours. You watch him through the rearview mirror as you force yourself to eat, you’re tracing your eyes over the lines on Joel’s face as he separates the items. Suddenly, an odd feeling rises in your stomach, creeping its way up to your throat. Fuck, you close your eyes for a moment, slowing your breathing. As you take your final bite of food, you finally admit the extent of your thoughts to yourself—something that part of you has been trying to push its way to the forefront of your mind since last night, something you didn’t want to admit, not until now. The feeling was stronger than ever, and you couldn’t push it back this time. 

As you place the empty can into the cupholder to your left, Joel appears outside your door, knocking lightly on the window before opening the door and motioning for you to get out. You follow his instructions without hesitation. When you get out, he picks up one of your arms, and puts it through the first arm strap of your bag, then places his hand on your lower back, guiding you to turn to put your other arm through the free strap. Your heart skips a beat as his hand lingers on your back. Now facing each other, he looks you up and down before grabbing the straps and tightening them, causing you to nearly choke on your own breath as his hand grazes your sides. You were sure the entire process only took several seconds, but in your mind, it lasted much longer. He shifts his eyes from you to just past your head, glaring at Tommy with furrowed brows.

“What’s that look on your face?” He narrowed his eyes, causing you to turn and look back at Tommy. Tommy looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, his eyes are wide and accompanied by a dumbfounded expression. 

“Nuh-nothing,” he stutters, shaking his head, immediately looking down at his can of food before shoveling it into his mouth. 

Weird.

-

The walk isn’t too bad, Joel keeps a decent lead ahead of you, occasionally letting you catch up before leaving you behind again. When you come up on Hunters Road, the sign also displays a huge arrow with “Bondurant Factory” in smaller letters beneath. That boy has a hell of a memory, Joel says under his breath in amazement. This was much different than when it was just you and Tommy, the two of you would spend the majority of the day talking, whether it was about the outbreak, the state of the various QZs across the country, or Tommy's stories about his short-lived time as a Firefly. Whatever it was, someone was always talking about something. There really wasn’t anything to do besides walk and talk, Tommy was always interested in conversing. With Joel, it has been the complete opposite, not a word has been spoken directly to one another since you left Tommy and the car. You were never good at creating conversation, that didn’t change when the world ended, but the silence was eating at you. Perhaps that's what he wanted, which is why he never let you walk alongside him long enough. 

You jog your way up to Joel, who is about two yards ahead of you. He looks at you as you come up to his side. You tighten your grip around your shoulder straps. For a while, the two of you walk side by side in silence.

“Joel, ” you start, and he lets out an annoyed sigh, which in turn makes you nervous. You realize your mouth has suddenly become dry.

“What,” he responds firmly. You notice he slows his pace, so you can keep up with him comfortably. 

“Tommy said that the gas lost potency after time, why is that?” You ask out of curiosity, honestly, you don’t really care, but you want to talk to him. He took a while before answering. 

“It thins out over time,” he says before muttering, “ or something, I don’t know.”

You nod, letting the conversation die after that piss-poor attempt. You really had no idea how to approach Joel, especially now with your conflicting feelings towards him, you didn’t know what you wanted from him. He seemed so closed off, and you felt like there was no hope. What’s the point in trying anyway? He’ll either leave again, or if he does stay, he’ll probably just ignore you, so what's the fucking point, you think as you walk by his side, a slight feeling of anger pooling in your chest. 

When the perimeter gates of the factory come into view, Joel stops walking, positioning himself behind a tree, peeking around it, and surveying the surrounding area. As you approach him, he grabs onto one of the loose straps of your bag, pulling you close to his side. You watch him intensely as he continues to hold onto the strap. He lets out a high-pitched, short whistle, and continues to wait before turning to you and nodding his head. The two of you approach the fence, and Joel lifts the bottom, throwing his bag through the opening before sliding underneath. Once he is up on his feet, he pulls the fence up the opposite way and holds it up for you to easily slide under, offering you his hand to help you up from the ground. His hand feels rough, the calluses rubbing against the smooth surface of your palm. As he pulls you up, the loop on the top of your bag gets snagged by a rough edge of the fence, pulling you back down with a forceful tug. Joel catches you, leaning down inches from your face, reaching behind you to unhook it. His eyes are hard as he narrows them.

Thanks, you mutter under your breath as he turns away from you, heading for one of the doors on the other side. You run your hand over the back of your neck. Your heart is beating fast. 

As you catch up to Joel, he comes to a stop when he puts his hand on the handle of the door, readying his gun with his other hand.

“When we enter, you will be completely silent, you got that? We don't know who or what's in there.” He whispers firmly, glaring intensely into your eyes. 

You nod your head, rolling your eyes once he turns his attention back to the door. You hate how he treats you like you have no idea how to function in this world, and you hate feeling like you have to prove yourself to him. As he begins slowly turning the handle, you pull your gun out of the back of your waistband, placing your wrists together and propping up your flashlight in case it’s dark. He pulls the door open, instantly clearing the left and right sides. There’s one large main workspace, a staircase leading up to a walkway, which eventually leads to what appears to be an office area. There wasn’t much to clear, however, Joel went around quickly checking it out before meeting you in the middle of the factory. You slide your flashlight into the side pocket of your backpack as the skylights bring in more than enough light to see. 

“Did Tommy tell you where the gas was?” You whisper, coming up on Joel’s right side, he turns his head, so he is now looking at you straight on, looking confused. Your eyes quickly glance at the scar on his temple before darting back to his eyes.

“Can’t hear well in my right ear, what?” He spoke to you in a normal tone, now turning his whole body. He begins to walk backward, facing you. 

“I just asked if Tommy told you where the gas is,” You say, matching his tone. 

“He said something about some blue barrels in a storage room on the first floor,” Joel responds before coming to a stop, putting his hand on your shoulder to stop you as well. You’re facing each other, your eyes moving down to his lips as he quickly licks them. “We need to talk about something.” 

Your stomach twists, making you feel nauseous.

“Yeah, what’s up,” You try to sound as normal as possible, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next. He lets out a large huff of air.

“About that night,” he starts to say before you cut him off. 

“Nothing happened, Joel,” You quickly say, watching the relief wash over his face, his breathing becoming steady. “I promise I was just trying to help you to bed because you were... fucked up, and...”

“Did I… do something… I have this unclear vision of…” He asks while slightly cringing. You were honestly going to skip over that part in your retelling, but since he was the one who brought it up, it probably means he at least remembers that part of the night.

“Yes, you, uh, you pinned me against the door, saying something about me trying to get into bed with you,” You respond slowly. “I tried to push you off, but… anyway, you stumbled to the ground, becoming barely conscious again. I laid you on the bed and took off your shoes. I was so exhausted from not getting proper sleep for weeks prior that I must have fallen asleep when I went to the other side to fully pull you onto the bed. Joel, I swear, that is all that happened.” 

Joel stands in front of you with his arms crossed, he’s slightly bobbing his head, eyes fixated on his shoes. He clears his throat before looking off to the side of you, his face expressing a feeling of total relief. 

“So, we're good now, or,” You take a step towards him, hooking your index finger onto his cheek and turning his face towards you. You raise your eyebrows when you make eye contact with him. He sucks in some air through his slightly parted lips.

“We’re good,” His cheeks flush red, and he immediately passes by you, heading towards the stair that leads up to the office space. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said we were gonna be in and out, no stopping for anything else?”

“Plans changed,” he calls back to you. “We shouldn’t stay too long because of Tommy, but it doesn’t hurt to take a look around… unless you don’t want to.” 

You shake your head.

-

At the top of the stairs, there’s one single office room, Joel tried the door, however, looking through the side window, it had been locked and barricaded by a desk. On the side of the office, there are two large, double-panel windows. The far right window’s top panel had been knocked out, leaving an opening. Joel took a pair of leather workman’s gloves out of the side pocket of his bag and put them on. He originally tried jumping, grabbing a hold of the frame, however, he was unable to pull the weight of himself up all the way, grunting as he struggled. As he let go and landed on his feet, he looked over at you. You had been quietly giggling to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“You think that's funny,” he says out of breath, his tone still light. “You're gonna have to be the one to go in. I’ll boost you up, just look around the room before entering, okay?”

“I’m not stupid, Joel, ” You shoot an annoyed look toward him, causing him to laugh.

“My bad,” he says with a hint of a smile, shooting his hands up in the air. You can't help but smile back, shaking your head in the process. He quickly peels off the gloves and tosses them over to you.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” You smirk at him, resulting in an eye roll on his behalf, a small smile remains on his face.

The first time he tried hoisting you up to the opening, it was a complete failure. He doesn’t even get you halfway up before letting you fall, catching you by placing his hand on the small of your back when you begin to stumble backward. He shakes his head. I am not that heavy, Joel, you pretend to be offended. He places his hand on his side before looking up at you, I’m old, darlin', can’t do the things I used to. Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead. Your heart skips a beat as the word darlin’ escapes past his lips, he must have caught onto the shift because he immediately apologizes. Way to fuck things up, you scold yourself. Bending down again, with his fingers intertwined, you place the sole of your shoe in the middle. This time, with a loud grunt, he pushes you up to where you are able to grab onto the framing, and you feel the glass crumble under the gloves. With one final push, you’re able to get one of your feet on the frame, carefully maneuvering around the glass shards that remain. You poke your head through to check out the room before committing to entering.

“Anything?” Joel’s voice is muffled.

“No, just some sleeping bags; it looks like there are some bags with stuff in them,” You yell out, jumping down to the floor. As you walk towards the door, you notice there’s one sleeping bag considerably smaller than the rest. Your heart sinks at the realization. Alongside it is a torn piece of paper, oranges are drawn at the top in crayon, the crayons lay scattered on the floor just off to the side. You let out a soft sigh before stepping over them. The desk barricading the door is a lot heavier than you anticipated, it took several times of pushing and pulling to create a big enough gap to get the door to open just enough for Joel to get through. He climbs over the desk and swings his legs around, his eyes immediately looking at the sleeping bag you noticed previously. Ignoring it, he took one big step over it before crouching down to one of the duffle bags on the floor. 

“Wonder what happened to the people in here. No sign of them, just their stuff,” Joel says as he begins going through the bag, then turning to you and holding up what looks to be a protein bar, peanut butter flavored. “Tess loved these.”

Your chest tightens.

“Tommy told me a little about Tess,” You speak cautiously, Joel is still looking at you, now raising one eyebrow, “Is she, um, is she like your girlfri-”

“No,” he breathily drags out, drawing his brows together. “No, it's not like that. She’s just… she’s, uh, just there, you know?”

You nod while jutting out your bottom lip, the heavy feeling in your chest disappearing. You turn and kick at the ground before walking over to the floor-to-ceiling cabinet. There’s nothing useful inside, just the usual office supplies: paper, tape, paper clips, rubber bands, pencils, etc. You walk back towards the paper with the drawing of the oranges and pick it up. It’s a poem, the side edge of the paper looked like it had been torn out of a book. Joel suddenly comes up from behind you, nearly scaring you to death. He’s peering over your shoulder, grabbing one side of the paper.

“What is it?” He says, furrowing his brows together. His close proximity causes a feeling of vulnerability to quickly come over you.

“It’s, I think, it’s a poem,” You try to sound nonchalant, turning your head to look at him. He grabs it out of your hands.

He clears his throat before reading it out loud:

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange -

The size of it made us all laugh.

I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave -

They got quarters and I got a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The re-

He stares at the paper a moment longer.

“Looks like there’s more to it, but it's ripped.” He says after reading it, you feel yourself start to dissociate, your mind lingering on This is peace and contentment. It’s new. In the corner of your eye, you can see him staring at you. “You know it? Like, from before?” 

“Uh, oh no, doesn’t sound familiar,” You say, shaking your head as you stare at Joel’s beat-up boot. He hands the paper back to you. “Poetry’s cool though, I had a friend who was really into it, you know, like, before this happened. It just reminded me of this one time, and I-” 

You don’t complete your sentence, speaking about Nessa doesn’t feel right, not out loud with someone else. Joel seems to contemplate what to say when you look up at him. He ends up ignoring what you said, and part of you was thankful because you were mindlessly talking. The two of you continue looking through the bags in the office, one bag was filled with MREs supplied by the military at the beginning of the outbreak, and the other bag had medical supplies, nothing real special, just bandages, low-grade pain meds, antiseptic, and so on. 

“Tommy said you came from Houston,” Joel suddenly says. You look at him, somewhat confused.  

“Oh, yeah, I was at the QZ there before it fell, left and went to Denver, left again, found some people, left,” You speak in a sing-song tone. Yeah, that sounds familiar, Joel says, barely audible. You ignore it. “You know how it is trying to find any places worth staying.” 

“Why’d you leave Denver?” He has one of the bags slung over his shoulder and is dragging his feet as he approaches you. You take a moment to think, leaning up against the wall.

You tell Joel the same thing you told Tommy when he asked, Denver became corrupt; the frequent public executions and dwindling food and supplies. Although there was one detail you didn’t tell Tommy, there was another reason you left. You didn’t tell him partially because you felt ashamed that someone lost their life trying to protect you, it made you feel guilty. For some reason, telling Joel just seemed right, you thought that maybe he would understand. At this point, the two of you left the upstairs area of the factory, and now you were downstairs looking for the blue barrels.

“Long story short, I made a deal with one of the head officers in Denver, I kind of knew there was a slim chance I’d be able to follow through. I really didn’t want to do it, but I made the deal anyway because I was desperate to get out of there, and he said he'd give me the stuff I wanted upfront, like stuff that could get him in trouble if anyone found out,” You continue. Joel is following you closely from behind. “I ended up not being able to pull through, so I decided to leave. I was just slipping out past the wall when the guy and some of his buddies came looking for me, I had an…” You pause to think of the right word. “I guess an acquaintance who helped me get out—I heard him get shot when he told them he didn’t know where I was. The guy saw right through him.”

Heat washed over your face as the memory became fresh again.

“Heard the guy say he would spend the rest of his life hunting me down,” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t really think I’m worth that much trouble, but he always took his little pill problem way too seriously.” 

Joel grabs your arm, causing you to turn toward him.

“I’m sorry about your acquaintance ,” he says in a soft tone you’ve never heard from him before. He lets his hand drop to his side as you look up to meet his gaze. “Stiffing a FEDRA soldier is pretty badass, though.” 

You let him turn away before smiling to yourself. 

When you turn the corner, there is what appears to be a decent-sized storage room. Joel turns on his flashlight as the two of you enter. You split up, Joel takes the left side, and you take the right side. Many of the shelves had been pushed over and disheveled; plastic bottles lay on the floor in piles, and the floor is sticky. You snap your head in Joel’s direction when you hear that high-pitched whistle again. As you shine the light in that direction, Joel is faintly smiling, pointing at the blue barrels that lined the walls, bingo, he says in a quiet yet joyous tone. Quickly, he fills up the red gas container he originally brought, grabbing a second one off the ground, and handing it to you to fill up. 

Just as you finish filling up the second gas container, you both hear the engine cut on a vehicle, followed by the distant voices of a group of men coming through the front entrance. You look at Joel, who locks eyes with you.  He quickly cuts the flashlight and grabs you by the waist, pulling you close to him and crouching down.

“There's a door to the left that goes outside, just past this room,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. “Stay low and stay close to me, we will be fine. We just need to get out without them noticing we’re here.” 

You look at him nervously, but the way he looks at you in return brings you a sense of calmness. Joel peers out to the main area of the factory, with you following close behind, he’s holding loosely onto your wrist with his free hand. Looking over his shoulder, you see four men going up the stairs. They don’t appear to be on high alert, which should make it easy to sneak out the side. Before pushing forward, Joel looks back at you, mouthing, are you ready? You nod. 

The door leading outside is maybe six feet away at most, but the path is out in the open, nothing is blocking it from the group seeing you and Joel. Quickly, the two of you made your way to the door, slowly opening it and guiding it shut without a sound. When you both make it to the other side of the fence, Joel gives you a curt smile and nod, and without saying anything else, he begins walking back in the direction you came from. 

-

“Everything go okay?” Tommy shouts from the driver's seat, he has the door ajar. Joel holds up the gas can he was carrying in response, not saying anything.

Joel grabs the second container from you before walking over to the fuel tank, popping it open, and immediately starting to fill it. You walk over to Tommy, slinging your bag to the ground before taking a seat next to it, you begin kneading your calves, which are now aching with sharp pain from the walk. 

"Did Joel treat you okay?” Tommy asks in a low voice, not wanting Joel to overhear. You turn to look up at him and nod in response, based on his expression, he was skeptical. 

“We didn’t talk much, we just went in and came back.” You smile. “It took a little bit to actually find the barrels, but other than that, nothing really happened. Some people showed up at the end, but we snuck out the back, they didn’t even notice we were there, I don't think.”

“Good.” Tommy nods, looking relieved. Joel comes from the back of the car and stands in front of the two of you.

“Let’s get goin’” He’s solely looking at Tommy.

You throw your bag into the back of the station wagon, Tommy let you sit in the front passenger seat again. An intense feeling of anticipation begins to spread through your body as the car pulls back onto the road. You can’t wait to reach Jackson.

read chapter seven here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[lessthanpure]

Making the Best of it Chapter 16

Fandom: Baseball RPF

Pairing: Pete Alonso/OFC, Pete Alonso/Jeff McNeil, Pete Alonso/Jeff McNeil/OFC

Summary: Sloane decides to tease.

Notes: AKA I just finished the next chapter and realized I never put this one here. Whoops. I really need to get better at remembering this blog exists.

Wordcount: 2,378

AO3 Link

18+

Sloane knows that it’s part of their job, but she misses them when they’re away. She turns over in her bed, wanting warmth. She wants both of them to be sleeping next to her. She sighs and turns onto her back. She looks up the time difference between New York and St. Louis. They’re an hour behind her. She checks the time- midnight. She groans- they’re probably asleep. She should let them. She turns over, hugs her body pillow close, and tries to sleep. She does drift off.

Sloane wakes up slowly, kind of horny. She looks down, and her leg had hitched itself onto her body pillow in her sleep. She blushes. She turns her head slightly and checks the time- eight. An hour behind, she remembers. She takes a picture of her leg and sends it. ‘Miss you.’

Jeff checks his phone while Pete is showering. He knows it has to be Sloane- both of their alerts went off at the same time. He has to remember it’s his day to put his on silent. He does it, then checks their conversation. He stares at the image- Sloane’s wearing short pajama shorts, her mostly-visible thigh looking soft and touchable. Jeff doesn’t even hear Pete turn off the shower. 

Pete walks into their room, scrubbing the towel over his hair. He looks, and Jeff is staring at his phone, his scent warm. He comes around and looks at his screen. “Fuck,” Pete breathes. 

“We- we have to go to breakfast,” Jeff says absently. 

“Yeah.”

Neither man moves for a long minute, looking at the picture. Then Jeff groans and decides to act like the adult. ‘Not fair,’ he types, adding the sweating emoji. Sloane sends the winky face one back. 

Pete dresses and Jeff waits until they go to breakfast together. They try to talk with the team, but both of their minds are back on the picture Sloane had sent. 

Sloane’s both thankful and annoyed that she has the day off today. Thankful because she’s still horny, annoyed because she can’t use work to distract herself. She’s half-tempted to send more pics. 

She’s never been one for sexting, but she’s aroused from the thought of her boys trying to hide their reactions from the world. Thinks about if they have to sneak off, help each other out, try to keep quiet. She drifts a hand down her body, still in bed. She sinks a finger into herself and gasps. She angles her phone and takes a picture.

Pete checks his phone. He nearly drops it into his cereal. He quickly glances around, but no one is paying any particular attention to him. He looks at the picture. Sloane’s shorts are still on, and he can see her hand under them. She’s probably touching herself. He thumbs the screen dark and eats. 

Sloane smirks when she doesn’t even get a response, just a small ‘read’ message under hers. She hums and gets up, taking a long shower. 

Jeff is the one who checks his phone when it vibrates in his pocket since Pete’s talking with some teammates before they warm up. He freezes. Sloane had sent a picture of a dildo and vibrator, with three hearts after the picture. Jeff swallows. ‘You are gonna be in so much trouble,’ he sends.

Sloane smiles as she reads it, getting wetter. She takes a picture of the lower half of her face, biting her lower lip. ‘Oh no. Are you gonna punish me?’

Jeff has to cough rapidly to mask the sound of his groan. “You good,” Canha calls. Jeff nods, still coughing, and gives him a thumbs up. 

Pete looks over, concerned. Jeff has his phone in his hand and he realizes what happened. Sloane is still sending pictures. She is in so much trouble. He finds a natural exit to the conversation and wanders to the cooler, checking his phone. He stares at his screen. So much trouble. 

Sloane hums as she puts on red panties and one of Jeff’s shirts. She smells the collar. It smells like all of them since she’s now in Pete’s apartment. She lounges on the bed and takes a picture of herself smiling, arm extended up in the air so they can see her whole body. 

The boys find a way to casually meet alone, talking about they don’t even know what. Pete checks his phone and stifles a moan. Jeff taps him and he angles his phone. Sloane is laid out on Pete’s bed, her legs curled to the side enough that they can see her underwear. Jeff recognizes his shirt and swallows a growl. ‘Miss you.’

“Fuck,” Pete mutters. Jeff leans back. He looks at him. “How are we gonna get through today?”

“C’mon, we’re better than that,” Jeff protests. Pete raises an eyebrow. “Ok, we’re not, but we can at least pretend we are.”

Pete’s phone chimes and he checks it. He sends a text back, and Jeff takes out his phone. He stares at the newest picture- Sloane with her panties around her thighs, tugging his shirt down so it covers her but exposes more of her throat since her head is thrown back. Pete had texted ‘we’re in PRACTICE.’

‘You’re the worst,’ Jeff adds.

Sloane smiles at the texts. ‘Good,’ she texts, smug. ‘Let’s see if I can embarrass you.’

The Alphas stare at the words, dismayed. “What have we done,” Jeff questions.

“McNeil! Alonso! Phones in your lockers, let’s go!”

They follow Buck’s order, stowing them away. 

Sloane knows the rhythm of a game day by now, enough that she could probably time it to the minute. So she leisurely plans her day. She keeps her hands to herself (and off herself) until she can watch them play. Every time the camera is on either of her boyfriends, she gets wet. They look good in their uniforms, looking intense. She wonders if either of them are thinking about her pics. She smiles and touches herself gently, sinking two fingers in herself. She turns on the video function and records, letting herself moan softly and gasp their names. Sloane keeps it short- 15 seconds would be too long of an estimate- and sends it. 

As the game goes on, Sloane gets wetter and wetter. She fucks herself on her dildo- taking a few more pictures and videos- and cums a few times. Then the vibrator- which prompts more pictures and videos- and then she’s lazing in Pete’s bed and watching them win. She smiles and sends a simple message. ‘Congrats.’

Pete and Jeff can barely think as the team celebrates. Neither of them have checked their phones- they’re almost scared to- but they can’t keep their minds off of the pictures. They bow out early- Jeff ten minutes before Pete, just to be safe- and go to their room. 

Jeff is sitting on the foot of his bed, bouncing his leg, when Pete walks in. “Have you checked,” Pete asks when he’s in and locked the door.

“No. Wanted to wait for you.”

Pete nods and they both get their phones out. They stare, their scents combining in the air. Jeff is the first to groan and push his pants down. He wraps a hand around his cock, his hips hitching into his fist. Pete swallows and looks at him. “Should we-”

“Send her pictures of our own,” Jeff pants. “Yeah.”

“You’re the fucking best.”

Pete takes a picture of Jeff’s hand and cock and sends it.

Sloane squirms when she sees the picture. God, Jeff has a nice dick. The next attachment is a video, and Jeff is stroking himself, making little grunts of pleasure. “Good boy, such a good boy,” Pete is saying quietly. 

“Fuck,” Sloane whispers. She wants to be there with them, wants to suck Jeff off. She hits the call icon. 

Pete swipes the notification away. ‘Nah, sweetheart. You wanna be bad? This is what you get.’

Sloane squirms again, her mind playing the text in Pete’s lustful growl. 

Pete starts a video and slides his hand up Jeff’s thigh. Jeff spreads his legs. Pete rumbles and touches his cock, wrapping a hand around him. “Pete,” Jeff moans. 

“Yeah,” Pete murmurs. “Yeah, baby boy.” Jeff reaches for Pete. Pete stops and sends the video before he puts his phone aside. They undress, Jeff uncoordinated, and kiss gently. Pete's phone pings. They pull away slightly and grin at each other. 

Not fair, Sloane thinks. They at least have each other. She has her hands and toys and that's it. She circles her hips at the video, whimpering. She folds up Jeff's shirt and bites the hem, taking a picture from an angle that shows her underwear, stomach, and mouth. She sends it. 

Pete reaches for his phone and Jeff mouths at his neck. Pete opens the message app and moans. Jeff turns his head and growls. 

Pete kisses Jeff deeply, fumbling with his phone. “Give,” Jeff mutters. Pete hands it over and immediately starts kissing down Jeff's body. Jeff snaps a few pictures and sends them, then starts a video. He threads his fingers through Pete's short hair and the Alpha groans and grabs his cock. Pete licks along him and Jeff groans. Pete eventually takes him in his mouth, looking up at him. Jeff stops the video and sends it. 

“Fuck, Pete,” he says. 

Pete moves his tongue and Jeff gasps, hips thrusting. 

Sloane sinks two fingers into herself, panting. She takes a blurry photo and sends it. 

Jeff whimpers and starts a new video. He films Pete sucking his cock, then warning him before he groans his orgasm. 

Jeff pants and sends the video. Pete licks over him gently, cleaning him up. He crawls back up and Jeff smiles. “What do you want,” he asks. 

“Fuck, your hand. Just need to get off.”

Jeff smiles and starts another video. 

Sloane watches the blowjob, knowing what they smell like when they're like that. She wishes she was there, could help Pete clean Jeff up. She can almost taste it from memory alone. She fucks herself on her fingers, whimpering. 

She gets another video. This time, Jeff is giving Pete a handjob, Pete groaning and fucking Jeff's hand. Jeff angles the camera up and Sloane can't even feel the loss when he shows her they're making out, Pete hardly able to keep up because of how good Jeff's making him feel. Jeff angles the phone down just in time for Sloane to see Pete cum over Jeff's fist. She cums, shaking. Jeff keeps the video on, enough to watch Pete calm himself down. She watches them nudge noses and kiss leisurely. Then Jeff smirks down at the camera. “Was it good for you, too,” he teases. Pete chuckles. 

“Miss you, babe.” The video ends. 

Sloane shakes her head fondly. “Dorks,” she says once she starts her video. “I miss you both. And I am looking forward to seeing you both tomorrow.” She smirks. “Maybe I'm even looking forward to my punishment.” 

She ends the video. 

Jeff and Pete are cleaning up when Pete's phone pings. They watch the video together. 

“So, what are you thinking,” Jeff asks, stretching out on his back on his bed, one hand behind his head. Pete lays next to him and they roll without a word so they’re facing each other.

They talk until the air is thick with their lust. “Fuck, Jeff,” Pete pants. “Need you again.”

Jeff nods and gets between his legs. He swallows Pete and Pete grunts, hand threading through his hair. Pete watches Jeff blow him, and Jeff keeps his eyes. Pete whimpers when Jeff swallows around him. Jeff pulls off and keeps moving his hand. “You like that, babe,” he rumbles, voice a little hoarse. “Took me a bit, but I think I got the hang of it,” he teases. He licks a stripe up and Pete whimpers again. “Yeah, you make pretty noises,” Jeff says. “Let’s see how I can embarrass you.”

“Jeff-”

Pete doesn’t get a chance to do anything other than bite his free hand when Jeff swallows him again. Pete is trying to keep quiet- he has no idea what time it is, for all he knows one of their teammates could be walking past their room right now- but he knows he isn’t being totally successful. “Jeff, please,” he whispers. 

“Please what,” Jeff asks, mouthing down his side. “Please let you cum in my mouth? Is that what you want?” 

“Yes, just-”

“What makes you think you’ve been good enough,” Jeff teases, smirking. “Maybe I’ll just jerk you off instead,” he says, dragging his palm over the head of his dick. 

“Fuck, Jeff, baby boy,” Pete begs quietly. “I want your fucking mouth.”

Jeff smirks. “Ask nicely, babe.”

“Jeff, please, let me cum in your mouth.”

“Good boy.” Jeff swallows him again, working his tongue along him as he bobs his head. Pete’s hand in Jeff’s hair tightens.

“Jeff, close.” Jeff hums and Pete whimpers. “Jeff, I’m gonna,” he pants, and Jeff swirls his tongue. Pete cums and Jeff gentles him, sucking gently as he pulls off. Pete feels boneless and watches Jeff stand gracefully. “You want,” he slurs. “Something,” he asks, waving his hand lamely. 

Jeff chuckles. “You are almost asleep babe,” he says, lying next to him. 

“Not an answer,” he mutters.

“I need a shower anyway. I’ll take care of myself.”

“I feel so shitty-”

“Hey, no,” Jeff says firmly. “I got you. You got me. Sleep.”

“I’ll wait until you’re out,” Pete says around a yawn.

“Uh-huh,” Jeff teases.

“I’ll wait,” Pete says, almost offended. Jeff grins and kisses his cheek, then goes to the bathroom. Pete gets up and gets into sleeping pants, sitting up against the headboard to fight sleep. 

Jeff comes out of the shower after having jerked off, comfortable and relaxed, and sees Pete sitting up with his arms folded and chin on his chest. He’s asleep. Jeff snorts good-naturedly and turns the sheets down, coaxing Pete to lay down.

“Told you I’d wait,” Pete slurs.

“Uh-huh.”

Jeff gets Pete down completely and gets in next to him. Pete rumbles in contentment and puts his cheek on Jeff’s chest. The Alphas go to sleep wrapped around each other.