#Am I so broken that a hand on the shoulder is like 4 years of therapy for me?

[imagine-darksiders]

Remembers/forgets

[livwritessometimes]

Where's the Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over to Me (Part 1)

: Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, and Lewis Hamilton

: Part 2

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - Let me know if you guys want a part 2 with other drivers.

...

Lando Norris

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

(Miami Grand Prix, 2024)

He did it! Lando finally got his first win. 

Years of doubt, years of criticism it didn't matter now. He finally was able to win for him and McLaren. As soon as he got out of the car, he was greeted by loud cheers from everyone there. On his way back to the team, he saw almost every single driver in the grid waiting there to congratulate him. 

"I'm so happy for you, Lando," said Carlos as he pulled in Lando for a hug. 

"Bout time, huh," said Max bumping into Lando as soon as he was done getting his weight measured. 

"I am so happy for you, mate," said Charles as he passed by Lando.

"You did great, man," said Oscar, who saw Lando enter the area where the team was eagerly waiting for him behind the barricade. 

Upon seeing the entire team waiting for him, Lando could not help it; he immediately took off to where they were standing. As soon as he reached them, Lando dove right in. 

The entire area was filled with the team cheering and chanting 'Let's Go, Lando' while carrying him over their shoulders. During that time, Lando's eyes landed on Y/n.

He immediately started to wiggle out of the team's grip. Everyone was confused as to what he was doing, but as they put him down, they got their answer. Lando sprinted towards Y/n and lifted her off the ground. 

"What are you doing?" Y/n shrieked as she felt Lando's body slam against her.

"Celebrating what else," Lando said as he pulled her even closer. 

"What about the team?" Y/n asked as she let her hands run through his hair.

"They can wait! I wanna celebrate it with you first," Lando said.

"You've been there through all my podiums, all my losses; you bet your ass you'll be there right front and centre through my wins too," he finished as he set her down on the ground.

"You truly are amazing; you know that, Mr. Norris, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up at Lando.

...

Max Verstappen

Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me

(Dutch Grand Prix, 2024)

Y/n was nervously waiting as she watched the race.

4 more laps. 3 more laps. 2 more laps.

That's what she kept telling herself as she watched the bull maintain the lead.

*flashback*

Max and Y/n had spent the majority of their day lying on the couch with Jimmy and Sassy. It was the last day before the race season began for the year.

"I love this," Max stated.

"Love what?" Y/n asked.

"These days," he said. "Where we spend all our time together," he continued.

"And why is that?" Y/n asked as she looked at Max from her spot, careful not to disturb the cat sleeping on her chest.

"It's nice; we are together, and I don't have to worry about anything," Max said. He continued, "I always feel like when I am away for so long, you'll realize that I'm just a loser who is not worth being with, and you'd break up with me."

The sincerity with which Max had said that made her feel bad. Reaching out to caress his cheek, Y/n said, "I'll never leave you, Maxie. No matter what." She added, "Even if we break up, I'd never leave your side. I'll always be the one that cheers the loudest for all your wins."

*present*

True to her words, Y/n was there at every race. Even though Max and her had broken up, Y/n just couldn't break the promise she had made.

The distance this time had really tested their relationship. All the stupid fights finally built up to something that the both of them could no longer ignore.

The past few races had not been good for Max. No matter what he did, he was not winning, and Y/n knew it was getting to him.

Despite the breakup, the two still remained friends; she constantly checked up on him, and she knew that he needed that win. He needed to win.

Finally, as the final lap began, everyone in the Red Bull garage was holding each other's hands for support. It was Max and Lando battling for first place. With each corner they passed, the team grew more and more anxious. Nearing the final corner, Max gave all that he had left to cover the few meters that were left. The car had not been the best; the team knew that; Y/n knew that; Max knew that. So it truly was Max that was making the car special, and he wanted to prove that he still could do it.

With a final push, Max crossed the finish line. Everyone in the garage went crazy. They all started running towards the barricade, waiting for Max.

The moment the car stopped, Max ran. He ran like he had never before. He didn't even bother taking off his helmet. All he could think of was one thing and one thing only.

As soon as the team saw Max running towards them, they started to cheer even louder. Ignoring them, Max ran straight towards Y/n, who was standing amongst the team, and pulled her in for a hug.

"I hate it," he said.

"I hate not being able to spend my time with you. I hate that we fought. And what I hate the most is the fact that no matter what happened, you're still here, and I can't call you mine," he finished.

"Max," Y/n said as she felt her eyes tearing up.

"It was a stupid decision to break up. I want you. Please give me a chance to make things right again," Max said as he pulled away.

"I hated the way things ended, and I want nothing more than getting back together, Maxie," Y/n said, smiling as she kissed Max's helmet.

...

Lewis Hamilton

I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

(British Grand Prix, 2024)

Lewis could not contain his happiness. It was his first win of the season. It was his home race, and man did it feel amazing.

Looking at the crowd gathered around, he could not help but get emotional. Ever since 2021, Lewis has not been the same. He no longer was leading every race, he no longer won, and he no longer was the world champion. He was happy for Max, but it still burdened him. 

These few years had been a tough journey for Lewis. Everywhere he looked, he felt like it was a reminder to him that maybe it's time he quit racing. And usually he doesn't let this get to him; he has Y/n there to always pull him out of his thoughts. But as of late, no matter what she did or what his friends did, Lewis couldn't help but think that his age has finally caught up to him.

This seed of self-doubt had blossomed into a full-grown tree of trust issues and self-criticism. Lewis kept on thinking about how if he can't even keep winning, something he has known for almost half his life, then how can he even be called a husband to Y/n? 

At night when the two would be cuddling, Lewis' mind often drifted to a world where he was still winning, where he could have won his 10th championship by now. Where he and Y/n would have a really happy life—not that it isn't now, but somehow it is better. Where he was a better father to his son.

All those doubts were now forgotten, for a while at least.

"OH MY GOD! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!" Y/n screamed as she ran up to Lewis and tackled him. 

The two fell over laughing as Y/n peppered Lewis' face with kisses. "I am so glad you were here to witness this," Lewis said as he wrapped his hand around Y/n.

"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for the world. I am so happy for you, Lew," Y/n said. "I know, no matter how much you try and hide it, I can see this has been troubling you. My love, promise me no matter what, you never let these doubts consume you," Y/n continued.

Lewis nodded at her, smiling softly. Of course she noticed; she always knew what he was thinking about.

"I mean it. I am always, ALWAYS here for you. So don't you dare lock yourself up in there every again," she said while pointing towards Lewis' temple.

Suddenly a new weight was added on top of them, and as the two turned, they saw their son had decided to join them on the ground. He wrapped his arms around Lewis and Y/n, "I'm so proud of you, dad," your little 6-year-old said as he pulled you both closer.

It was finally time for the national anthem. Lewis was standing at the top of the podium, looking down at his team and loved ones. He made eye contact with Y/n and his son and sent a flying kiss towards them. He smiled when he saw his son trying to catch the kiss. 

It felt right; standing at the top felt good, and Lewis swore to himself that this wouldn't be the last time.

...

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

[chukys-mouthguard]

fluffy rare moment of peace w chucky post scf pls?

done dreaming

750 words

genre: fluff

featuring: matthew tkachuk x female reader

request: yes

The sound of the front door closing awoke you from your much needed slumber. Rolling over you checked the time.

4:45am

To be honest you expected him to stay out later, or possibly not even come home. This night being the most amazing night in his life. Your boyfriend was now a Stanley Cup Champion.

Saying that still didn’t seem real. You felt like you needed to pinch yourself every few minutes, the image of him hoisting the cup not leaving your mind. The pure joy he felt, seeing his family embrace him and the love you felt on the ice among them. It was a day you’d never forget.

Throwing back the covers, you pulled on one of Matt’s t-shirts, heading to find him off somewhere in the house. Wondering why he hadn’t come into bed.

As you peeked your head into the living room, you saw Matt sitting on the couch. His back facing you as you heard him watching back different videos, surely from the eventful night he’d had. An occasional chuckle leaving his lips, a smile on yours as you made your way over to him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as you rested your head on his shoulder, smiling at the photo of him and his dad with the cup that was currently on his phone.

“I’m so proud of you babe.”

His hand rested on your forearm, thumb tracing over your skin as he smiled to himself. A sigh leaving his lips as you could tell he was getting emotional. His breathing getting shaky as he tried holding in his tears.

Quickly moving around the couch to join him, you wrapped him in a hug. Matthew crying into your chest as he threw his arms around you. Your hands entangled in his curls as you held him, not saying anything, giving him the time to finally feel all the emotions. Letting him process how his life had changed in the span of a few hours.

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckled as he pulled away from you, wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

“Don’t be sorry, you’re allowed to be emotional. You just won the Stanley Cup babe. Hell I cried for an hour earlier while you were gone. It’s such an amazing thing, and you worked so hard for this moment! Think back to last year, a broken fucking sternum, and you still went out there and worked your ass off. It all paid off for you baby, and I am so proud of you.”

Your hand caressed his cheek as he smiled at you, tears welling in his eyes again as he hung on your every word. Your compliments his favorite thing on earth, he’d listen to you speak those words to him on a loop all day.

“Well, it took a village to get here. And, you honestly played such a big part in this.”

“Me? No way!”

You brushed your hair behind your ear as his hands rested on the skin of your thighs. His smile making you blush as you shyly looked to the floor.

“Yes you. The sacrifices you make to be with me, it’s not easy. But you’ve never left my side. And I know there’s been times where I could be an asshole. Hard to deal with for sure. And, fuck last season with the broken sternum. You’re the one who got me out of bed, got me moving. Kept me going on the days I didn’t think I had it in me. You do so much for me everyday, this win is yours too babe.”

His hand moved to your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. You could feel the love he had for you, through his words and his touch.

“I love you so much Matthew.”

His forehead resting on yours as he kissed your nose.

“I love you too baby.”

The two of you staying on the couch for a little while longer, sifting through the photos and videos to savor the moment even more.

Before you knew it Matthew was sound asleep on your chest, his phone falling out of his hand as his soft snores were the only sound in the room.

Knowing he needed his sleep you’d grabbed the blanket that was draped over the couch. Covering the two of you before you curled up next to him. Drifting off to sleep relieved, as the dream you two had been hoping for, was finally now a reality.

[smooth-perceval]

“Stop acting like the grinch.”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Max pushes reader away, but reader is too stubborn to leave him alone- and soon find outs the truth.

Warning: swearing, max being a bit of a dick, forgiven very easy, reader being stubborn, fluff, angst?

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 715

A/N: this is short and rushed please don’t hate me! It’s busy season and I forgot how busy I get at Christmas!!

Me and max hadn’t spoken in a few weeks or so- something about needing space over the holidays to focus on training…

Every year without fail for the past 4 years we spent Christmas together, it was our sworn vow in our friendship- Christmas never gets missed. Maybe except this year… Well unless he tells me to leave him alone then I’ll have to just walk away- right?

“Max! I know you said you need space… but I got all my decorations!” Kicking the door with my foot, I juggled the boxes in my arms.

“Max? You in- I should’ve texted before coming over I’m sorry.”

Nudging the door once again, I then sighed dropping the boxes to the floor hearing what sounds like a possible few broken ornaments.

“Max?” Hands on my hips I stared at the door. “Such an idiot Y/N… he’s out.” Mumbling unholy words to myself I prepared myself to carry the boxes back down to the car.

“Y/N?” With squinting eyes, messy hair and slightly red face- peering through the slightly opened door was Max.

“Max?” Mouth slacked I stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“Hi-” it felt lovely to see him again… I missed him deeply.

“Hey… what are you doing here?” Furrowing his eyebrows- he opened the door a little more.

“To decorate?… like last year- and the year before…”

“Y/N- I said I am focusing on other shit…”

“But max- we do this every year.”

“Not this year… you need to go.”

“Max-”

“Don’t Max me. Just go…”

Deflated, my shoulders slumped. I thought it’ll be easy to just turn and go- but truthfully I wasn’t giving up the fight that easy.

“Stop acting like the grinch.”

A little smile crept on his face before he quickly wiped it away.

“You’re still here.”

“No shit Sherlock. Let me in.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll wait out here… decorate your front door or something…”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Silence… he didn’t shut the door we just stared at each other.

“And if this is the most I’ll see of you- then merry Christmas and happy new year.” With my hand now against his forehead I pushed it back slamming the door shut on my own face. And true to my word, I started decorating his front door- making do with what I had, a little tinsel around the door- a doormat In front.

I went to tie some balbals around the handle- when the door sprung open again.

“Y/N.”

Leaning forward I wrapped the balbals around before rummaging through the bag again.

“Y/N.”

“What Max.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know.”

“I just-”

“You just?”

“I’m not busy- I lied.”

“You lied?… why did you lie?” A little insulted I took a step away from him- like he twisted a knife in my heart. “I realised I am in love with you- and that has scared the shit of me.”

“You’re in love with me…?” And the knife was untwisted, heart was kissed better and floating back in his arms.

“So much it hurts.”

“Max…” shushing me he looked up pulling the tinsel down from the door

“So if you’ll have me- I’d like to celebrate this Christmas a little differently from the last.”

“How so?” With a sly smile on his face, he threw the tinsel around me pulling me in. “I’ll show you-”

And there it was the first time ever in 4 years- we kissed. And it was magical. I couldn’t describe the kiss just- I knew I wanted this forever. The tinsel around my waist, max grip on the tinsel wrapping it around his hands the closer he pulls me in.

“Max-” mumbling I pulled away- his eyes still closed as he pulled back slightly humming as a response. “Can we watch the grinch?”

“Seriously…”

“You was a dick.”

“Because I love you!”

“And now you’ll watch the grinch while we decorate!”

“I guess I will.” Rolling his eyes he grabbed the bag of decor, as I picked up the rest.

“Oh and max-” turning around he looked down slightly at me.

“Merry Christmas.” Whispering to him- I leaned up kissing his lips delicately- leaving him with a cute smile on his face.

“And a happy new year.” He whispered back returning the kiss.

[iaure]

𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.

wc: 1.7k

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.

Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.

She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.

"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."

Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.

Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.

He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.

But there was none.

Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.

The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.

Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.

(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)

Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.

The beauty of delusion, he supposed.

He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.

Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.

He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.

If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.

But no. Another day, he said. Next time.

But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.

The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.

He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.

Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.

Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.

[laiahernandeeezzz]

Hello lovely human,

could u write Yelena X reader. The reader is Natashas bestie and they meet after the events of endgame. Nat and Y/n are living together and Yelena joins them. Y/n and Yelena are slowly falling for each other and Nat is just like third wheeling or teasing them xdd

This took me quite long, and I had to split it in two... I hope you enjoy this first bit

******

FALLING SLOWLY

******

Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!reader

Words: 1.8K

******

Living with a trained spy is, at least, curious. Natasha Romanoff was a peculiar individual, with weird mores. It wasn’t strange to find the red-head at 4 am fully awake, living for a run or having breakfast to start her day. On the other hand, Y/n still had, minimum, three to four more hours of sleep.

However, they understood each other perfectly. Chores were shared thoughtfully, Natasha not being able to get near the kitchen -she was capable of burning water-, and Y/n was forbidden near the washing machine -she had turned more than one white piece of clothing into another completely different colour. They had been sharing a home for years, but then a purple alien decided to blow up the compound, and they decided to buy a flat for themselves. 

******

“Y/n… My precious friend, my favourite hero, my super talented cook” Natasha said in a singing voice as she entered the kitchen area, where Y/n was making pancakes for breakfast. As it was a Sunday, Natasha gave herself the pleasure to sleep in a bit. 

“Stop that… What do you want? I don’t have Wanda’s ability to read your mind, but I know you well enough to know you want something”

“What? No” Y/n gave her an unimpressed look, “Okay, fine… So you know my sister Yelena, right? She was freeing some widows, and she just returned from the blip… We’ve been apart for so long, she has nowhere to go…” Y/n continued mixing the pancake mix, but raised her eyes to meet her friend’s ones. 

“Can you go straight to the point please, this isn’t like you” Natasha sighed, feeling caught up, looking like a kid that had just broken a plate. 

“Alright… I wanted to ask you if she can come live here with us? We have a spare room, she is nice, most of the time” the last part she mumbled, but kept eye contact with her roommate. The spy relaxed when she saw Y/n’s lips forming a wide smile.

“Nat, you could’ve just said that… Of course, she can come, I’m excited to meet her” Y/n went around the kitchen aisle to hug her friend quickly. 

“Great, because she’ll be here in thirty minutes, thank you” Astonished, and with wide eyes, Y/n separated from Natasha, looking at her shocked. 

“What? Oh, fuck you. What would you have done if I said no?”

“You forget that I also know you, you are too good to say no” Y/n returned to her task, shaking her head in disbelief, while Natasha went to prepare the spare room for Yelena.

Y/n decided to take a shower so she didn’t smell like pancakes when Yelena arrived. She also changed her clothes to something more presentable, and put come concealer on. When she got out, she heard her friend talking to someone with a very thick accent. That must be Yelena, she thought, while taking a deep breath and heading towards them.

The first thing she noticed of the blonde girl was that deep, husky laugh, as well as her voice. Once Yelena was fully in her sight, she could take her traits completely. She was quite tiny, but you could tell she was strong anyway, her hair was long, falling in waves onto her shoulder, she had the cutest round nose, and rosy cheeks. And as soon as they locked eyes, Y/n felt her breathing stop. Yelena’s eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, dots of what looked like gold tainted them.

Natasha was quickly introducing them, a small smirk on her face as she took in her friend’s shook. “Sestra, this is Y/n, my friend and roommate. Y/n this is Yelena, my baby sister”

“It is a pleasure to meet you” Y/n felt in some kind of trance, not being quite able to take her eyes off the smaller woman. You’re being creepy, stop it, her mind screamed at her, but she didn’t put any attention to it. What she did put her attention on was that accent, that now that she was closer, it was making her feel things that she didn’t want to acknowledge.  

“Your accent is so cool” Eyes widened. Y/n’s face flushed in red, Natasha was trying so hard to not laugh, and she could’ve sworn Yelena’s cheeks were a bit more rosy than they were before. Well, she could’ve if she wasn’t so mortified. "I mean… It’s obviously a pleasure to meet you too… Who wants some breakfast?” 

The blonde girl let out a loud “yes, please” and they headed to the sofa -they weren’t quite fond of eating on tables-. Y/n held herself back trying to calm down her pounding heart, but her roommate didn’t seem to think she had suffered embarrassment enough, “Stop mindfucking my sister in your head and come eat!” With a groan, and an annoyed expression, she joined the other two women, the frown on her face disappearing when she saw the two sisters together and laughing again.

******

Living with two sisters was, at least, interesting. They didn’t fight a lot, but when they did, the whole building shook. The worst part is that mostly those fights were because of stupid -in Y/n’s opinion- stuff. What to eat, who had to clean the bathroom, who chose what to watch on the TV… They were usually short, loud fights, but they had been fighting for twenty minutes, and Y/n couldn’t take it any more.

“That’s enough!” Finally, they shut up, looking at Y/n surprised. She didn’t tend to get in the middle of their arguments. “You’ve been fighting for almost half an hour over who will do the dishes, don’t worry I’ll do it, but please, lock yourselves in your rooms, because this is getting out of control.

The sisters looked ashamed, but knew that saying anything else wouldn’t help, so they left. Y/n headed to the kitchen, angry at her friends. She loved them, truly, but this was getting exhausting. Y/n knew that living with other people could be tough, but their fights were just ridiculous. 

She had been cleaning for a few minutes when some footsteps came behind her. “I really don’t want to talk right now”.

“I just wanted to apologize to you” She didn’t have to turn around to know it was the blonde girl. Y/n would recognize that voice anywhere, that accent constantly running in her mind. The taller woman had accepted that she may or may not have some feelings towards Yelena, not that she was ever telling her friend that. Especially after knowing her for just a few weeks. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, but it was getting absurd” She sighed and turned around to face the blonde, only to find her looking down, a sad frown on her face.

“I know it sounds like an excuse, but living with someone after so many years being alone it’s weird, hard” Y/n slightly knew their story, Natasha telling her when they found each other again, and their mission to bring down the Red Room.

“Hey, Lena? Don’t worry, it’s just sometimes I get triggered by shouts. My parents were constantly fighting when I was little, and I just hate it” Y/n felt a Yelena move to be closer, taking her hand, and stroking her finger on her knuckles. “I’ll try to do better I promise you” The Russian said, as Y/n hugged her, softly muttering a thank you.

Yelena then offered to help Y/n, so they cleaned the rest of the plates, doing small talk. What the girls didn’t notice was a certain redhead looking at them, with a small smile, watching at how the younger women laughed, Y/n pushing the blonde’s shoulder, while the latter rolled her eyes. 

******

And Yelena did what she promised, fights minimum after two months. Bickering was still there, but most of the time it was more joking and teasing than serious. On the other hand, Yelena and Y/n entered a curious dynamic. They understood each other pretty well; shopping was their alone time without Natasha, not that she bothered them, but it was nice to have it. 

Y/n had accepted that she did have feelings towards the blonde, but didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so she never said anything. However, she wasn’t sure that the older woman didn’t also feel something, teasing and flirting was quite common, coming from her, but Y/n desperately convinced herself that it was just how Yelena was.  

Those thoughts were running through her mind almost all the time, thankfully shower time let her rest from them, music blasting out the speakers of her phone. When she got out, she wrapped a towel around her body, it barely covered her butt, but she was sure her roommates were in their rooms. 

She headed to her dormitory, humming the song she had been listening to without paying any attention to her surroundings until she bumped into something, making her slip with the water she was leaving on the floor, as well as her towel. Y/n expected to feel the floor against her back, but it never came.

An arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close so she wouldn’t fall. A whimper came out of Y/n, when she locked eyes with the person in front of her. Yelena had her eyes widened, her hand hot against the younger woman’s back. They stayed in shock for a few seconds, but when the blonde returned to her senses, quickly separated from Y/n, picking the towel and handing it to the other girl.

Y/n muttered a soft thank you, while she walked -more like run- to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and resting against it. Her body was aroused by the thought of Yelena’s hands purposely running through her naked body. She felt like she needed to take a cold shower this time, but she wasn’t coming out of her room until dinner time, not feeling prepared to face the blonde girl again. What she didn’t know was that Yelena was in the same state as her, she was seated on the end of her bed, staring intensely at her hand, the feeling of Y/n’s back still lingering on her fingers.

A few hours later, three women were eating in silence, the younger ones looking at their plates as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, while the older burned her gaze into their skulls, taking their faces. “What is going on with you two?”

And, finally, the girls looked up. They quickly glanced at each other, cheeks red instantly. “Nothing” both of them said, and Natasha for once didn’t push any further, enjoying the girls’ embarrassment. 

[part one]

[hoe4sports]

“Your last name on my back”

Jenni Hermoso x Alexia Putellas x child reader

A/N: Jenni never left Barca.

Mamma had now stayed over for many nights. You couldn’t count well but probably more than 50. It felt like a forever sleepover. You didn’t understand why mamma had stayed over, but mami had tried to explain. You had seen mami and mamma kissing on the couch sometimes. Sometimes holding hands. Sometimes hugging. You understood that they loved each other. Yet, big words were hard, but you understood that you loved mamma.

Mamma that had always loved you back. That would always let you sit on her lap. That would always want to hold your hand. That would never refused to carry you. Not your tummy mummy, but mamma. Mamma’s name was Alexia. She had played football with mami for a few years. When your tummy mummy left in the middle of the night and Mami showed up to practice the next morning with a newborn looking terrified; Alexua was there. She was always there. She took care of Mami and she helped take care of you. She picked up the broken pieces and mended them back together one by one. One day at a time.

You were only little so you didn’t understand why mamma couldn’t take you to the doctors alone or why you couldn’t have her last name. You had Hermoso, and another strange last name. The other last name was cold, it felt like a frozen shoulder or like someone was taking your heart away. All the other little girls at football had two last names; one from their mom and one from their dad. One from each parent. One from each person that loved them. You however, only had one. Not one name, but one that loved you.

When the coach of your under 5’s had given you your first jersey a Saturday morning, you had teared up when another older girl read the names of your jersey to you. You didn’t like the first last name. You hated it, despised it. The first time you had heard it was when mami was on a phone call while you were supposed to be sleeping. She had talked to her brother, about wanting to change your name but your tummy mummy had refused even though she wasn’t a part of your life anymore. That’s why when you got your first jersey, the moment wasn’t filled with joy, pride or excitement. It was filled with as much rage as a 4 year old could body. Your little hands pulled the jersey off while they were shaking as tears were forming in your eyes. The pride of your first jersey being ripped away from you in an instant. You quickly blinked the tears away as you stood there with the jersey in your hands. The fabric of the jersey was just like mami’s jersey, but this jersey didn’t feel good. It felt like something you wanted to throw to the ground. Stomp on. Hit. Get rid of in an instant. “Y/N, you no like your jersey?” You coach said as he stood infront of you. You looked down, not daring to look him in his usual kind eyes. “It’s small” you murmur out as the best possible excuse even though as the youngest and smallest on the team, it definitely fitted you. “Ah, si, how about you just wear a vest yes? A pink vest?” He said as he held the pink neon colored vest infront of your eyes. You grabbed it quickly as you settled on wearing the familiar bright vest instead. Practice began and you quickly forgot about your jersey that didn’t feel like your jersey. The practice went on quickly and by the look of mamma’s face; you knew that she could sense that something was going on. It wasnt until one of the youth assistant coaches was helping you with controlling your ball that you noticed that your jersey was gone from the field. It made you happy, as you thought that it had disappeared and that you wouldn’t have to ever see it again. The practice ended and your team did your usual team hug and chant at the end. You ran off the field with the other little girls straight to Alexia who was sitting with the other parents. “Mamma!” You yelled as you ran into her arms. “I am so proud of you, you worked so hard today. Ready to go home and see mami?” Alexia said as her strong arms lifted you up from the ground. Mamma and mami never cared about people that said that you shouldn’t be carried or that you were too old. They knew that one day, you wouldn’t wanna be carried anymore and until that day came along: they refused to stop holding you close and keeping you safe.

—

You were sitting at the kitchen table with Mami and Alexia having lunch. You were talking about how practice went and how hard you were working on your skills. Alexia joked that she had gotten it from her mamma, but all three of you knew that it wasn’t possible. It made you pout as you wanted to be mami and mamma’s baby so bad. You dropped your fork onto the table and frowned as you pouted. Your mami looked at you as she tilted her head. “So baby, we need to talk about what happened at practice today. I heard that you didn’t like your jersey, no? Why is that?” She spoke as she looked at you. Alexia rubbed Jenni’s back as support and you crossed your arms in anger. You shook your head, refusing to answer as your feelings were bottled up in your throat forming a big lump. «Princesa, we want to help you. Was the color wrong? Or was it the fabric?” Mami continued as she tried to get out of you what the issue with the jersey was. The anger made your head spin and your feet tickle. You wanted to throw a fit and scream and yell. You hated your last name. It reminded you of the person who abandoned you when you were a baby. Who suddenly decided that you weren’t important, that you weren’t wanted, that you were regretted. Your little heart was beating fast and your hands were shaking. You looked up at Mami as you shouted on the top of your lungs; “I don’t wanna be a Dias anymore, I wanna be a Putellas!”

You had hopped down from the chair and stormed to the bedroom as quickly as your tired feet would let you. You shut the door with a bang and twisted the lock on the door. Mami cursing herself for not removing it as she was supposed to. You stomped to your bed and grabbed your pillow and blanket before you made a spot inside your closet for you to decompress and hide. Your feelings felt so big, like your little frame couldn’t possibly fit it all inside your heart. You felt angry, scared, fragile and terrified that mami would eventually regret you as well. You didn’t wanna be a hard child. People would always say that you were delightful and easy going, and you were for the most. It was only this subject that had grown into a big knot in your stomach. Mami didn’t wanna hide your story from you in case you would read it somewhere or a kid would ask you about it. She wanted you to own your own story, so she had always made sure to tell you the story and give you age appropriate details. You pulled the closet doors closed as you closed your eyes feeling tired. You weren’t sure if it was because of practice or because of your big feelings. You wanted nothing more than to run to mami or mamma, be held, be told that she would take care of it, that it was okay, that she wasn’t upset or angry and that she loved you endlessly regardless of anything. You wanted mami to pick you up with her big warm strong arms and hold you close so you could feel her familiar scent. But you couldn’t let yourself. You wanted to be stubborn. To be a big girl. You sniffled as a tear rolled out of your eye as your tried to hold your bunny close.

Your polarbear was however in your bed so you made a bolt to grab your bear before coming back into your closet feeling like you wanted to hide away forever. You held the bear tight and had him pushed towards your chest as you sobbed. Eventually falling asleep tucked away in the closet.

You woke up to mami’s and mamma’s face towards you. You blinked a couple of times. Could it have been a bad dream? “Hola princesa” Mami said as she stroke your hair gently. The light was dimmed and you were sitting in mami’s arms in their bedroom. You could hear the sound of the television that was mounted on the wall infront of the bed buzzing. “Mami” you said as the feelings came crashing into you leaving you chocking out a cry. “Shh, mi amor, it’s okay, it’s just big feelings” Mami said as she held you closer one hand on your back and the other on your head pushing you into her chest like she did when you were a baby. “Everything will be okay, Mami will take care of it. Mamma told me what happened and if you don’t want to; you don’t have to tell me, si?” Mami said as she comforted you while you shut your eyes to keep the big feelings outside. “Mami?” You said so quietly that nobody should’ve been able to hear, but Mami always heard. Mami always knew. “Si, princesa?” She said as you wiggled lose from her grip and sat up infront of her. You looked at Mami, then at mamma and then at Mami again. “I don’t like my name” you muttered quietly expecting some sort of reaction. “Is that so? Why?” Mami said as she looked at you with a soft expression on her face not seeming angry or mad, just looking at you like you were her whole world. “The other kids, Mami..” you started as you felt tears pricking in your eyes and your voice started to break. “I wanna be like you, and mamma..” you continued as you took a big breath to sound out the last word you needed to complete the sentence. You looked at mamma. “I want your last name on my back, Mami. But I also want mamma’s. No dummy tummy mummy last name.” You said as your frowned and tears were escaping your blue icy eyes to run down your red blissed cheeks. “That’s okay princesa, I can talk to the coach.” Mami said as she pulled you into her arms again. “Princesa, you can have both our last names.” Mami said as you looked over at mamma. To your surprise, Alexia was smiling at you. You sniffled and smiled back before you launched yourself at mamma like a rocket trying to go to space. But just like mami, mamma always knew and she was prepared letting you close hugging you tight. “Pequena, we have got you a present” mamma whispered in your ear as your head shot up almost knocking mamma’s nose out in the move. “What is it?” You said as you could feel a spark of good feelings coming back into your body. Mami reached for a box next to her night stand and your eyes opened wide. The box was pink and glittery with a glittery golden bow on top. Mami sat it infront of you as mamma held you in her lap. You carefully tugged at the bow, causing the bow to loosen as you took the lid of the box. You pulled the item out as it revealed a jersey. A jersey just like the team had gotten this Saturday morning at practice. Your heart dropped for a second as you lowered the jersey until mami held it up for you to see. “Do you see the back princesa?” She said as you looked at the letters. It made you confused as you still were learning to read. “It says Hermoso-Putellas and it’s the same as mami’s number. 10” Mami is nr.10 in Barcelona. You felt all the bad feelings rushing to leave your little body as you wrapped an arm around each woman’s neck holding them tight. The two women eased closer to you and held you together closely. “We love you, Princesa. You can always tell us if something feels bad.” Mami finished as she kissed your cheek making you feel all bubbly and happy again. But the legal part of the name change? That’s a story for another day and it’s a long story.

[ilovesjamesbb]

Please Don't Leave Me (Pt. 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Warnings: Mature themes, depression, sadness

You couldn't do it anymore.

You couldn't live everyday like your life was perfect. There were times where there seemed to be no way out and this was one of those times.

Your breath quickened and your ears stopped working. Only a loud ringing like the sound of a wave in the ocean that never stopped crashing, remained. The organ in your chest felt like a piece of glass that was being crushed by the weight of your own blood and bones.

You shut the door and slid down against it, hand still on the knob. your hair slid down the wood much slower then the rest of your shaking form. It burned. Everything burned. Silent sobs came and never ceased.

Nothing had happened. Well nothing recently, many events had left you plagued and defeated but nothing within the hour or even day.

You had been eating dinner with the rest of the team in the tower. Sitting on the top of the couch while everyone told stories and funny jokes. A casual night. Something was off. You couldn't keep focus on anything, spacing out the entirety of the night. No one noticed and you thought to yourself, "Am I that good at hiding it?". You thought you were great at wearing the mask but your arms grew tired and it started to slip. Forearm muscles withered from staying in the same position for years until it was just skin and bone.

Your sobs started to pickup in sound and intensity. You didn't want anyone to hear so you crawled to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and shut the door. Tears streaming down your face as you brought your hand to your chest.

You were easy going. Always the funniest person in the room. Never had you been the sad one, the broken one. You were a fixer, thats what you did. You helped people you never needed help. You only helped yourself. You were the only person you needed. You would be the hand that held your head. You would be the thumbs that wiped your tears. You would be everything. Until even you, weren't enough.

The shower was loud but you were louder. You put your hands over your ears hoping the ringing would stop. Hoping everything would stop. You couldn't hear the pain that emerged from you but he did. He heard everything.

Bucky was only a room over. Sometimes you would hear him having nightmares. The first person to knock on his door and place a hand on his shoulder telling him he was okay and then you would leave like nothing happened. Like it was no feat to support him. Some mornings he would find you curled on the floor next to his bed or sitting fast asleep in the chair in the corner because you wanted to make sure he was okay. Never was a word uttered but a forgiving smile was given.

He had never heard sounds like this coming from your room. To think of it he had never heard a sound like this ever. He quickly got up from his bed and made his way to your door. He knocked.

"Y/n". No answer.

"Y/n I just want to make sure you are okay. Can you let me in?" Still no answer but the sounds continued. He knew you weren't okay and as much as he wanted to respect your privacy he couldn't leave not even if he wanted to.

He turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open as the hinges creaked. He had never been in your room. He was surprised with what he saw. The room was dark and not covered with the vibrant colors he imagined. There was no trinkets or photos. Just the bare minimum. The wall or large windows' blinds were open so that only light that illuminated the room was from the busy city. The night had been rainy. The last three night were.

As he walked through the room he could hear the sounds getting louder. He made his way over to the bathroom door and put his hand on it. He immediately felt anguish. The sounds of your crying made his chest tighten. He pressed his forehead to the door and called out gently.

"Y/n. I need you to open the door. I need to know your okay."

You clasped your hand over your mouth but your body stayed pressed against the door as you silently sobbed. Hoping if you stayed quiet enough he would leave.

"Y/n, I'm not leaving until I see you." You contemplated opening the door. You wanted to but you couldn't. You knew he could push the door open with your body still pressed against it if he wanted to but you felt better knowing you were another obstacle in his way to getting through.

"I don't know what's going on but I'm sure I can help and if I can't I will make sure you aren't alone. You don't need to go through this alone." Another beat of silence.

"Think about it like I'm returning a favor. All the times you came to my room and woke be from the night terrors. You save me from my nightmares now let me save you from yours." You heart broke and you couldn't hold back the sounds of your crying anymore.

"That's it y/n I'm coming in. I will break this door down unless you answer me. I need to know you're okay." You moved away from the door and let yourself rest your head against the wall. You knew he would feel awful if he hurt you so you moved away from the line of fire. He shoved his vibranium hand through the door and unlocked it but he paused. You were waiting for him to burst in and yell at you. But time stopped.

"Open the door. I want you to feel like you can come to me. Open the door, doll." At the sound of the nickname you moved your hand to the knob above your head and turned it.

He knelt down next to you, eyes locking with your teary ones. You couldn't see anything, everything was a blur. He placed his hand below your collar bone and the other on your chest.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I need you to breathe. You're hyperventilating. You're gonna pass out if you don't calm down." Your breathing only picked up in pace but you tried nodding your head.

"Doll, look at me." You tried but everything was unfocused. He used his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

"You will get through this. You always tell me that my dreams are just dreams nothing more. This is your dream, it's in your head, you need to wake up. Come back, doll. Come back to me." He looked concerned, pained almost.

"I-I can't" you rasped.

"You can, doll. Just breathe with me." He made the effort of breathing slowly, his chest moving in an exaggerated manor.

"I can't breathe. I-I can't breathe." His eyes met yours and he moved both hands to your face.

"I can't-"

"Yes you can. I know you can. This will pass. This feeling won't last forever but right now I need you to let me help you. Let me hold your pain." He pleaded.

"It hurts so much. I'm so, so sorry. I'm s-sorry. Oh God. Just leave me here. Please." You begged. He got up and for a second you thought he listened to you. Instead he got up and felt the temperature of the water.

"You're not gonna like this but I need you to breathe, you're turning white." He picked you up and attached your legs behind his back and moved your arms over his shoulders. Head next to his head. You latched on.

Fully clothed he walked the both of you into the shower. Water falling down your bodies until the tears blended in. His kept one hand on your back and the other on your head. Whispering sweet nothings.

"I got you. I've got you. I'll always have you." He said aloud but mainly to himself.

Your breathing slowed and tears still made their way down your face. You lay limp against his muscular form until you were fully aware of your surroundings.

"I'm okay now." You tried to get down but he wouldn't have it.

"No. You're not. Look at me y/n." You slowly lifted your head and he pressed his forehead against yours. Both of you closing your eyes.

"Let me help you."

"You don't have t-"

"It's not a request it's an order." Your eyes opened and you sighed. Defeated.

"I'm gonna wash you up and get you to bed. Okay?" His eyes stared into yours. You nodded. He set you down and looked away ashamed. How could you be so weak? Why were you so loud.

"Stop. Don't go there. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He said holding your chin.

"I need to get out of these clothes." You began to claw at your neck, feeling like you were being suffocated. Breath started to quick again.

"Doll, stop stop stop. You're gonna hurt yourself. I got it." He grabbed your wrists. He looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded.

He grabbed the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head.

"I won't look, I promise." He assured. He then knelt down, unbuttoning your pants and helping them slide down to the wet shower floor. He removed the rest of your clothes and then did the same with his own. Leaving just his boxers and dog tags. He began to wash your hair, tilting your head back as your eyes closed. His hands slowly washing your body as if he thought a sudden movement would break you. Your eyes remained closed the whole time. Your head felt numb but his touch kept you alert.

When he was done, he shut the water off and grabbed a towel to dry your body. You stood there prepared to walk to the bedroom but he scooped you up and brought you to his room. He set you on the edge of his bed and walked away. The draft making you shiver. Still you looked into nothing.

He emerged from his closet with a long sleeve shirt that would be way too big and a pair of his boxers. Everything smelt like him. He made you stand up and he dressed you. At this point you allowed it. You probably could have done it yourself but he wouldn't let you.

"I want you to stay here a few nights. I will sleep on the couch over there but I want you here." He said bending down to reach your eye line.

"No."

"Y/n you-"

"No. You're not sleeping on the couch. Lay with me please." You whispered. He contemplated it.

"Please. I need you." This broke him. He nodded and he picked you up to place you into bed before dressing and going to the other side. He covered you up and gave you space. You slowly moved your hand, shifting under the covers until you clasped your fingers with his. He immediately squeezed them and turned to look at you. You looked at the ceiling for a while feeling his gaze until you shifted closer to him and locked eyes.

He reached over and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"We don't have to talk about this now but we have to at some point. I can't stand to see you this way." He muffled into your hair line.

"Please don't leave me." Your lip quivered. He pulled back and you thought you scared him until he grabbed your face. He looked hurt.

"Doll, I would never leave you. You're stuck with me." He lifted your joined hands to show. You smiled.

Bucky was everything to you. You only wanted to make him happy and he wanted to keep you safe.

"James?" You called.

"Yes, doll." He asked.

"I'll get through this." You said confidently, more for yourself then for him.

"I know. I'm here for you." He said brushing your hair away from your face.

At that moment you knew, you loved him.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm just going to come right out and say it, I love Kafka Hibino. He's so goddamn cute that I literally want to just eat him alive. This is my first time writing for him - though I've been thinking about it for ages. I hope you like it, @supersecretsaga And I apologize, I'm wholly incapable of writing without it exceeding 1k words. So, SORRY. I proofed this once on google docs and that's all I have in me today. Any gross errors that look like I didn't mean to do them, message me!

C/W ::: Human Kafka, F.reader, not a lot of swearing. I just don't get the sense that Kafka would swear unnecessarily. Maybe I'm wrong. My perception will probably change. Really, who cares. Um, P->V (unprotected), jumping the relationship gun (but, with him, I would, too.)

WC ::: 3,094 (about 7 3/4 pages on G-Docs).

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

Kafka Hibino was simple, through and through. But when he met you that day in the hospital, his whole life changed. He knew he'd never be the same man he was before he was admitted.

You're a nurse. You were great at your job, and you knew it. Though the first time you saw that big, dumb puppy-energy-giving man, you knew that you were a goner, as well.

He was admitted around 2 am. Settled in around 5 am. He was in a lot of pain from the fight he'd gotten into with the Kaiju around midnight. He had 2 broken arms, bruised ribs. A number of different things had happened to him.

Kafka would be in good hands, though. Really, really good hands.

Your hands.

**** 7:30 am ****

"Oh- oh my god. What was THAT!?" You pulled your hand from the large porcelain tub in his bathroom and squeezed the sponge out over his short dark hair.

Giggling, you blinked slowly because you couldn't deny the warmth that was spreading throughout your whole body. And not just between your thighs. No, this was something else entirely. His stupid haircut, his kind eyes and dumbass smile were hammering their way through your boundaries. The same boundaries you'd worked so hard over the years to build to not get emotionally attached to patients.

"You're an idiot, Mr. Hibino. A complete moron. Have you never been bathed before? That was just a little something extra to help loosen up your muscles, a quick massage. My goodness. It's as if you've never been pampered." You stood from where you were on your knees on the floor and shook your hands out, purposely getting water on his face - you hoped in his eyes - so you would have a reason to gingerly wipe it dry.

"Call me Kafka," he said, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you grab the towel and stand over him.

"What?" You were confused. You didn't realize he'd been asking you something.

"Call me Kafka. It's my name, yeah?" He sounded so serious, so sincere. You nodded and wiped his face with the towel, noticing the small wrinkles as he smiled up at you.

Fuck. He's adorable and you're finding it harder and harder to stay professional.

"No. Your name is Mr. Hibino and that's what I'll be calling you. Ok? Mr. Hibino? Now, let's finish this bath and get you back in bed. The doctor will be coming by soon to check on you and he can give you another massage if you need it." You moved your hands to his shoulders, gently massaging them as you continued talking. "You've been through a lot, Mr. Hibino. Your body needs to heal."

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the tub.

You kept massaging him, not stopping until he was almost asleep.

This sweet, gentle man, had a power over you that no one else did. And you weren't sure how to deal with it.

Quite a while later (sorry, storyline faux pas - I didn’t take into account healing time. But let’s just say that because he’s part Kaiju that he heals exceptionally fast. Ok? Ok!)*****

**** 1 month later, 10 pm ****

You hadn't seen Kafka since the morning bath you'd given him. He was discharged and sent home to continue his recovery. As a nurse, you knew he would be alright. But as a woman, you were left feeling empty and wanting more of him.

You were home that night, exhausted, but unable to sleep. You tried to keep your thoughts away from the big, gentle man who had stolen your heart with his kind words and warm smile, but it was impossible.

Your mind drifted to the way he looked at you as you bathed him.

How his body was perfectly balanced between the hard muscles he'd earned in his training and the slight squish around his mid-section that you wanted nothing more than to run your fingertips over.

His arms were thick and strong. Yet not battle-worn. He didn't have too many scars, though they'd have only added to his appeal.

His legs were muscular, too. Thick and strong, like his arms. His thighs were something else, something you found yourself daydreaming about wrapping your own legs around.

You wondered what his cock would feel like inside of you. You snuck a glance when he was in the tub. You knew his eyes were closed when you looked at it, bobbing away in the water. You're certain he was hard. Otherwise, you prayed he wasn't a grower because any more than that and you'd be the one being admitted to the hospital.

You thought about his hands on your body, squeezing your breasts and sliding between your thighs. You imagined what it would be like to feel his fingers inside of you, massaging you and bringing you to orgasm faster than you could imagine.

You rubbed your clit slowly, gently. You couldn't bring yourself to fuck yourself with a vibrator or even your own fingers. You didn't want to give yourself that much pleasure. 

You wanted it to be Kafka.

You wanted him to be the one to take you, to fuck you, to make love to you.

You rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow as you yelled out in frustration.

"This is ridiculous. This is so stupid. I - I'm not some teenager who can't control herself." You stood and walked to your closet, grabbing some comfortable clothes and your purse and left for the mini mart down the street from your house. 

Chocolate was the next best thing you could think of. Other than, of course, Kafka running his hands all over your body. But what are the chances of that.

What are the chances of that?

The night air was cool against your skin. A nice contrast to the heat you'd built up while thinking about him.

You grabbed a pint of chocolate ice cream and began walking back home.

You felt better, slightly, but still very much wanting.

**** 10:30 pm ****

You were halfway through your pint and the movie when you heard a knock on your front door. "Coming, hold on, please." You walked to the door and looked through your peephole to see who it was. "Oh, you're fucking kidding me. What on earth are you doing here, Mr. Hibino?" The smile on your face was causing the back of your head to strain. You couldn't hide that you felt like your prayers had been answered all at once. But at the same time, you didn't want Kafka to see this look of bliss on your flushed face.

"Call me Kafka," he said softly, leaning against the doorway and smiling back at you. "And I wanted to see you again. May I? Come in, I mean. Please?"

You stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him.

You watched as he looked around your living room. You could tell he was a little nervous, but so were you.

You'd never felt this way about a patient before. Ex-patient, you had to remind yourself. He was no longer under your care. 

"Ok, Kafka." He smiled at the way you said his name. He'd never heard anything like it before. "Would you like some ice cream? I was just sitting here, eating some, watching a bad movie." You chuckled, showing him the container and spoon.

"Sure. I'd love some." He sat down right in the middle of your couch, and you sat next to him.

You handed him the ice cream and he dug in.

You both ate in silence for a few minutes until he said, "This is good."

You nodded and smiled. "It is. Sometimes chocolate, um, well, sometimes it's the only thing that helps. Y'know?" You looked at him, noticing the way his lips had turned up into a smirk. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're just ... you just ... h-here. Can I? There's a little bit of ... right ..." He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip so slowly and then sucked the ice cream off. "... there. You just had a little on your lip. 'S gone now."

You weren't sure what to do. Your body was telling you to jump on him and fuck him until neither of you could walk. Your brain was telling you to wait and see what other kind of sweet nothings he'd do for you. 

So, you waited. You had no idea your self-control was this well-honed. Again, you’d never been tested like this before.

But Kafka was different.

"You're beautiful, y'know." He whispered, looking at the floor like he was trying to burn holes in it with his eyes. He turned his head, leaning in a little bit closer than you were to him at the hospital. His hand moved to rest on your knee. And he said, "I've never met anyone like you before. I thought I was just going lay in the hospital bed until I was better. But you showed me kindness and care. I know you were just doing your job, but I'm grateful that you were there. That you were … you."

You didn't say anything. You were too busy trying to keep your heart from leaping out of your chest. You're sure if he'd looked, he'd see your tits jumping ever so slightly from the heaviness of the beating.

"Thank you for that. Thank you for everything you've done for me, Miss. I don’t know your first name. I’m embarrassed at how many ‘L/N’ households I went to looking for you.”

Your hand shot up to cover the smile that immediately bloomed across your lips. "That's not important. It's Y/N. And you're welcome. I'm happy I was able to help you. I didn't expect you to come here, though. I'm glad you did." You shifted, moving your knee so that your legs were touching. He didn't move his hand. He held it there, squeezing your knee gently.

"I didn't think I'd come here either. But I couldn't stop thinking about you. I know it's not appropriate for me to be here, but I had to see you again. I wanted to say thank you, in person." He turned his head and looked at you. You leaned in closer to him, your noses almost touching. "And maybe something else. Something that would make you feel as special as you made me feel when you took care of me."

You were so close to him you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. He smelled like the air before a storm, and whiskey. But a little liquid courage never killed anyone.

"Kafka," you whispered, reaching up and touching his face. You were fidgeting with a small piece of his hair as you rest your forehead against his. "Kafka. I ..."

He sat up abruptly, "Oh shit! You're not married, are you? I should have asked, I'm so sorry for showing up here so late. Without any warning." He bowed to you and started for the door.

"Kafka! I'm not married. I'm not even seeing anyone right now. Please, come back. Come sit." You stood and took his hand, leading him back to the couch. "I was going to say I've never felt this way about a patient before. You make me feel like there's something more to life than just my job."

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of dishonesty. He couldn't find any. "So, you don't mind me coming here?"

You shook your head. "I don't mind you coming here at all. I'm glad you did. I was just surprised, that's all. Please don't leave. Not yet." You held his hand tighter and urged him back down on the couch with you.

Pulling him back in, kissing him gently on the lips. "I've been wanting you to do that since the first time I saw you, too. But you in terrible pain when you came in. How did you have the presence of mind to want to kiss me when you were so badly beaten up?"

He laughed, "I wasn't beaten up, per se. I just didn't come out on top." He paused for a second, and then continued, "And the pain wasn't as bad as you think. I'm used to it. It's a part of my job. But being here with you, it's like I can forget all of that. And just be me. Kafka. Nothing else."

You leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency. His lips parted slightly, and you could taste the chocolate on his tongue. You moaned softly, shifting so that your legs were wrapped around him. He pulled you onto his lap, and you straddled him, grinding yourself against his crotch.

"Oh my god," he moaned, pulling back slightly and looking into your eyes. "Y/N. You're so beautiful." He reached up and touched your cheek with his thumb, rubbing it gently.

You pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His chest was chiseled and smooth, his abs flexing slightly under his cute belly as he breathed heavily.

You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling every muscle and every scar. You kissed his neck, biting it gently and sucking on his skin. "Kafka, I want you. I want you so much."

He pulled your shirt off and threw it next to his. "I'm gonna make you feel so good that you'll forget all about chocolate."

You stopped, pulling back from his face, and you laughed so hard for the first time in ages. "Oh, that might be the most serious thing anyone has ever said to me. Challenge accepted!"

He pulled you back into him and kissed you, his hands reaching around to squeeze your ass as you ground yourself against him. He picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you on the bed before climbing on top of you.

You unclasped your bra and tossed it to the floor, allowing him to see your breasts. He gasped as quietly as he could manage, running his hands over them and squeezing them gently. "You're so beautiful. You know that?"

He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it gently as his fingers worked at your pants. He slid them off, revealing your black lace panties. You'd never felt so exposed in your life. And you loved it.

"Kafka, please," you moaned as he sucked harder on your nipple, his hand moving down to rub your clit through your panties. "Please fuck me. I need you. I need you so bad."

He pulled back, looking at your face. "You want me to fuck you? You want me to make you cum? Oh-hoh baby, I will. I might even cum before you do! But don't lose faith. It's just, well, it's been a while? I guess? But that's not important right now." He leaned in and kissed you again, biting your bottom lip and sucking on it gently.

"It's ok, Kafka. I want you. I don't care if you cum before me. I just want you inside me. Please, please." You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn't believe you were begging like this, but you didn't care. You wanted him so badly.

He nodded and pulled your panties off, throwing them to the floor. He pushed his own pants down and pulled his boxers off with them, his cock set free.

You gasped at the sight. It was so much more than what you saw when he was in the tub. "Jesus, I-"

He looked down, "Oh. That?" He turned his head away, "Yeah, sorry. I'm sure you've seen um, better? But I make up for it in other ways! I promise, y/n. Just give me a chance."

You shook your head and smiled, "That's not at all what I'm trying to say here. There's not a doubt in my mind you won't fuck me stupid, Kafka." You giggled and reached your arms out to pull him down against you.

He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit as he kissed your neck.

You moaned, "Ohhh, fuck. Yes. Do that." Your hand moved to his ass, squeezing it as he rocked against you.

He pushed himself inside of you slowly, stretching you out as he went. The slight sting you noticed dissipated as quickly as the onset. You moaned, your nails digging into his back as he started to thrust faster. "Kafka, oh my god. That feels so fucking good. More. I want more,  please."

He grunted, his cock sliding in and out of you as you arched your back, grinding yourself against him. He sucked on your nipple again, his tongue flicking over it as he fucked you harder and faster.

You couldn't believe how much he was making you feel. You hadn't had sex in so long, but this was different. This was something else entirely. He was with you. He wasn't just there to get himself off. You'd been with guys like that before and they, more often than not, left you with a (literal) bad taste in your mouth.

Your breathing quickened, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. And the closer you got, the harder your nails dug into his muscular back. "Kaf-hoh shit. Y-that ... pl- fuck. 'M gonna cum ... very … very soon."

He pulled back slightly, looking at your face as you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back. "Me too, baby. Me too. You're so tight, and you feel so good. I can't believe I'm inside of you. Fuck. I'm gonna cum, Y/N. Oh shit, I'm gonna cum." He grunted again, his cock twitching inside of you as he came hard, filling you up.

You came with him, your pussy squeezing around his cock as he kept fucking you, slowing his thrusts until he stopped completely.

"Fuck," you whispered, reaching up and touching his face gently. "Kafka."

He smiled and kissed you softly. "RIGHT!?" 

You laughed through a yawn at the high energy he had when you first met, despite his injuries, and how he seems now. “Stay? Stay with me. I don’t want you to go. Tonight. Ever.” 

He held you close to him, kissing the top of your head and brushing your hair down as you drifted off to sleep against his warm chest.

"Just try’n get rid of me, y/n." 

@darkstarlight82 @katkusuo @kazutora-kurokawa

@arlerts-angel @southside-otaku @trevengersprincess

@bakubunny @reiners-milkbiddies

***If you guys absolutely hate this anime or don't give a shit, please please let me know so I don't keep writing and tagging you in stuff you don't care about! Thanks, mooties! <3***

[kybercrystals94]

Stolen Time

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 4 | "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Rated: G | Words: 4,213

Author’s Note: Is this idea unique? Nah. Did I write it anyway? Absolutely I did. *throws another Tech-lives fic into the fandom*

The sensation of falling is not unfamiliar; however, the sensation of helplessness, of utter resignation, of a broken heart…these catch like a sob in Tech’s throat. Mere seconds stretch into an eternity. The devastated expressions of his siblings are seared behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. He wishes they hadn’t witnessed him fall. It will haunt them, he knows. He never wanted that for them. However, he’d rather that they live with the trauma than die trying to save him. The price of his life for theirs is one he willingly pays. 

He just hopes that the impact kills him instantaneously.

***

He breaks the surface of consciousness with a breathless gasp. When he moves to sit up, a weight on each of his shoulders holds him back. A soothing voice speaks incomprehensibly and close, warm breath on his face. Tech continues to choke down gulps of air, his lungs greedily accepting the panicked doses. 

Words begin to take shape in the voice above him, and he hears his name, spoken so softly and gently that Tech knows that the speaker loves him. But he doesn’t recognize the voice, although his mind feels thick and muddled. Perhaps he simply cannot remember. 

“Easy, Tech, you’re safe. Shhh, you’re safe.” The weight on his shoulders lifts, and a heavier weight folds around him instead. It startles him until he realizes that it is an embrace, arms threaded behind him, pulling him close. “I missed you. We missed you. It’s alright. Shhh.” 

He doesn’t understand why the voice continues to hush him, as if he is making any noise at all. And then he hears it. Feels it. Shuttering sobs, hot tears, trembling limbs. But he doesn’t understand why. 

“Where am I?” he chokes out, “Why can’t I see?” 

“Your vision will come back,” the voice says, now close to his ear, “It’s a side effect of being in stasis. You were there for a long time.” 

Stasis…

“Who are you?” Tech asks next. “Why do I know you?” 

The voice does not answer for a long time, but the embrace holding becomes impossibly tighter. The face against his neck feels wet. “Oh, Tech. It’s me…It’s Omega.” 

“Omega?” Tech’s mind cannot reconcile the little girl of his memories with the woman’s voice speaking now. 

You were there for a long time. 

Years. Lost. Gone.

I missed you. We missed you.

His sister. His brothers. 

“We’re on our way back to Pabu,” Omega says. She pulls back, the weight of her embrace gone from his chest. It leaves an ache in its absence. Before he can despair, hands wrap around his, holding fast. “I haven’t told them that I’m coming…that we’re coming. They wouldn’t believe me unless they saw you with their own eyes.”

“Hunter,” Tech gasps out. “Wrecker?” 

“And Crosshair,” Omega adds. “They’re safe.” 

A knotted pain in his chest loosens, one he hadn’t recognized was there until Omega said the name. They’d found Crosshair. They’d brought him home. This time, Tech knows why he begins to cry, and knows that it is his little sister that gently comforts him. 

***

His vision comes back as Omega said it would; however, his sight remains impaired without his goggles to assist. Omega hands the lenses over, cracked and damaged from his fall, evidently, long ago. He doesn’t put them on. They won’t do much good in their dismal state.

Glancing up at the young woman sitting next to him, Tech experiences a strange and hollow grief. “You look older,” he says. “Much older than I remember you.” 

Omega smiles. “Wait until you see our brothers,” she tells him with a wink. It is meant to be humorous, but it just sends another wave of grief. That is what Tech is afraid of, if he is honest with himself. They will have aged while he has stayed the same. Having matured with them concurrently all his life, the reality that they have carried on without him is disheartening.

“Are they happy?” Tech asks, fingers tracing lightly over the broken glass of his goggles. 

Omega considers the question carefully. “Yes, they are,” she says at last. “They weren’t happy when I joined the Rebellion, but it was a different sort of sadness, I think. I might be older and stronger and wiser, but I’ll always be the little girl from Kamino, won’t I?” Omega chuckles. “Always my little brothers’ kid sister.” 

Tech can appreciate that sentiment. He releases a huffed chuckle. 

“But how are you feeling?” Omega asks. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It is,” Tech agrees. “It does not quite seem real. Like it might be an elaborate hallucination.” 

“If it would help,” Omega says, the edge of her lips quirking into a mischievous grin, “I can pinch you.” 

Tech snorts, rolling his eyes. “That is not necessary. I only said it doesn’t quite seem real.” 

Omega shrugs. “Just putting the offer out there.” 

“You have become quite adept at flying,” Tech says, shifting the subject away from himself. He hasn’t seen more than Omega’s little vessel hurtling through hyperspace, which does not take any sort of talent; however, the comment seems to shift something in Omega’s stance. She looks proud, as though he has just paid her the highest of compliments. 

Perhaps he has. 

Omega leans back in the pilot’s seat. “I hope so. That’s kind of my job now.” 

“Indeed?” 

Omega spends the hours of hyperspace recounting to Tech everything he’s missed. While his sister is animated and entertaining in narrative, it is shared with a subtle detachment. After all, she is sharing her past, her history. He is catching up, trying to understand the circumstances which have shaped the future he has unceremoniously stepped into. 

And while he listens with rapt attention, it also breaks his heart.

***

Omega’s flying skills are fully demonstrated as they approach the familiar island on Pabu. Omega guides her ship toward the base of the island rather than the landing pad at the top. When Tech opens his mouth to ask, Omega answers before he can get a word out. “Oh, you’ll love this, Tech. Watch.” 

With the practiced ease of a veteran pilot, Omega brings them nearly to the surface of the ocean, steering the ship into the gaping mouth of a cavern, neither wings nor fin scraping any sort of stone. Deftly, she activates the landing sequence, bringing the vessel to rest on the floor of the cave.

“Where was this when the Marauder was destroyed?” Tech retorts. 

Omega sighs. “Hindsight is much clearer than foresight,” she says. “In our defense, we were trying to load the ship to flee Pabu at the time.”

Tech is fully aware; however, the sharp sting of loss is still persistent. 

“If we give them a minute, I’m sure they are on their way down from the house,” Omega says, standing and stretching, her spine and shoulders popping loudly in the now silent ship. “Hunter has a radar for incoming ships.”

Tech looks out the viewport. The cavern has been lit up with strategically placed light sources, likely activated by their arrival. The island is already dark, several hours into the night cycle, although the evening is young enough that their brothers would not have gone to bed yet. 

Omega walks back into the main hold and begins shoving items into a leather bag. Tech watches her, feeling unsure what to do with himself. He does not have anything, possession or otherwise. If Omega notices the awkwardness, she does not show it, and merely slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder before lowering the ramp. 

“And there they are,” she says softly, tossing him a grin over her shoulder before she descends the steps two at a time. 

Tech hears them, their voices familiar but strange. More conversational and emotive than he remembers them…with the exception of Wrecker, of course. He sounds exactly the same. They greet Omega cheerfully, questions about her wellbeing and health tangling over one another. Is she being careful? Has she been getting enough sleep? Enough to eat? Resting between missions? Omega patiently answers each one, and Tech can hear an indulgent smile in her voice. 

“You should have told us you were coming home,” Hunter admonishes lightly, with absolutely no heat in his tone. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Omega says. “Because I found something…someone…and I brought him back just as soon as I could.” 

Tech knows that that is his cue. He inhales a deep breath, but it shudders weakly when he exhales. Stepping into the doorway, he finally sees his brothers. Without the benefit of his goggles, their expressions are smudged to his view, but they go completely still, frozen in place as they stare up at him. To his mind, it has only been a few short hours since he has seen them, and with Crosshair, long months.  

But to his brothers, it has been nearly a lifetime. They have mourned him, honored his memory by living as he hoped they would always be able to live: free and safe. He does not know how they will react to seeing that he is alive, preserved just as they last remembered him. A living, breathing ghost. Time has stopped once again when none of them move. Tech doesn’t know how to set the chrono ticking again.

To his relief, Omega breaks the silence. “We discovered a warehouse containing hundreds of cryo-cycle stasis pods. From the intel we’ve decrypted, it seems that Hemlock kept what he referred to as promising specimens that he thought might be useful in future projects. When Project Necromancer was shut down, the coordinates to the warehouse were lost. We recovered dozens of survivors, Tech being one of them.” 

Although Tech has already heard this news, Omega having shared the details of his rescue as soon as he was coherent enough to comprehend, he hears it anew from the perspective he might have if the roles were reversed.  

He imagines the shock alone is incomprehensible. Painful even.

“You mean he’s been alive all this time?” A voice asks, shattered with jagged edges. “We could have found him…Hemlock might’ve told us…” 

It takes Tech a moment to process that it is Crosshair speaking, his most severe and unyielding brother’s voice bloodied and raw.  

Omega shakes her head. “No. We can’t think like that,” she says firmly. “What matters is that he’s back now. We have our brother back now. Wondering what we might’ve done differently won’t change anything.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t remember anything after my fall on Eriadu,” Tech supplies weakly, stepping down from the ramp. “I…had no awareness until Omega found me.” 

He hopes that the knowledge is a small comfort; however, it seems to have the opposite effect. Tech desperately wishes for the lightheartedness of several minutes prior, when he was still out of view, and Omega’s presence had brought their brothers immense joy. 

But suddenly, the mood shifts again, an unruly tide determined to be unpredictable. Wrecker laughs, the sound reverberating off the uneven cavern walls, echoing back at them. He rushes forward and envelops Tech in a familiar, bone crushing embrace. It entirely dispels the air from Tech’s lungs, and he gasps for breath even as he smiles. 

“We missed you, Techie!” Wrecker tells him, lifting Tech bodily from the ground. 

Tech wheezes out, “I would say the same, but it only feels as though I took a prolonged sleep cycle.” 

“Let him breathe, Wrecker,” Omega says, but she is laughing too, the gentle chide ignored for several more moments before Tech is released to a looser hold, Wrecker’s arm still around him. 

Hunter comes forward next and puts his hands on Tech’s shoulders, dark eyes searching Tech’s face for something Tech doesn’t know. “You haven’t aged a day, have you?” his oldest brother asks. 

“Well, that is the design of the stasis pod,” Tech tells him. 

Hunter laughs and pulls Tech close, his embrace nearly rivaling Wrecker’s in its intensity. “And you haven’t changed at all, my brilliant little brother,” he says softly.  

Tech feels the irritating sensation of moisture gathering in his eyes at the gentle words, but he does not wish to cry in front of his brothers. He has done quite enough of that in front of his sister. 

With some effort and not a little regret, Tech disentangles himself from Wrecker and Hunter’s grasp. There is one brother he has not seen since the destruction of Kamino, has not directly spoken to since he stepped in to draw Wrecker away from Crosshair’s cruelty. 

“Let it go, Wrecker. Crosshair has always been severe and unyielding. It is his nature. You can not change that. He cannot change that.”

“Why are you defending me?” 

“I am not. Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you.”

If Omega’s stories are anything to go by and bear any weight of reliability, it seems that Tech was wrong. Crosshair could change, did change, has changed. Tech wants to see and speak to his returned brother for himself, apologize for not pushing to recover him sooner. 

But when Tech steps around Wrecker and Hunter, and they all turn to where Crosshair had stood, the space is empty, gone like a shadow banished by light. 

***

It takes much convincing, but Tech is finally allowed to search for Crosshair on his own. He suspects that their conversation is better done in private. Omega offers him a few places that their brother might have disappeared to, but Tech is fortunate enough to find Crosshair in the first one. It is a tree house near the top of the island, built by his brothers for Omega and any children who might enjoy it. This late in the night, the little structure is seemingly vacant, but Tech climbs the rungs of the rope ladder anyway. Crosshair sits across from the narrow opening in the floor, back against the short wall, one leg out and one drawn up with his arms crossed and propped on his knee. 

“Hello,” Tech says, pulling himself up and settling himself across from Crosshair. 

Crosshair’s face is turned down, and even if he lifted it, Tech could probably not read his expression in the dim light. “Omega already told you about all of our hiding spots?” Crosshair asks. 

Tech hums, glancing around. “Not all of them, I’m sure. She only gave me a brief summary of the most likely locations.”

“I’m surprised you snuck away,” Crosshair says. “I didn’t think Hunter would let you out of his sight for the next ten standard years.” 

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Tech muses, “and I did not sneak anywhere. I told them I was going, and they let me. You on the other hand…” 

Crosshair makes a scoffing noise. It is so achingly familiar that Tech feels a tight fist of emotion lodge in his throat. It does not take much effort to imagine that this is one of the many times that Tech has sought Crosshair out, sitting with him in the quiet of a supply closet until he was ready to return to the barracks. They had always been able to communicate in silent moments, a steady presence when words were inadequate. 

The silence between them now, however, is stilted and strained. A weight and a distance. 

Tech desperately wants to fill it. Before he fell, when he thought they were going to rescue Crosshair from the Empire, Tech had rehearsed what he might say. But now, against Tech’s will, with years passed, his practiced words have expired. Crosshair has come back, has changed, has grown older in both body and mind. A few months to Tech are now years and memories to Crosshair. 

Tech does not know what to say, does not know what reparations have already been made. What he could add, what he should add, what he should leave to rest. 

He wishes he had asked Omega for more insight rather than a basic history of events. 

To his surprise, it is Crosshair that fills the silence instead. “They told me it was you that first wanted to ignore my warning message.” 

“Only because it was I that found it first,” Tech says. 

“I told you to hide.” 

“We were never ones to follow orders, were we?” Tech asks with a grin. 

“You shouldn’t have died,” Crosshair says, voice thick. 

“And I didn’t,” Tech returns. “Merely an extended absence.” 

Crosshair growls at that. “Merely,” he sneers, but Tech recognizes the grief. It is a reflection of his own. 

“Not merely,” Tech amends. “I do not regret my attempted sacrifice. But since I did not perish, I regret that I have missed growing old with all of you, seeing Omega grow up.” 

“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t…if I had just come with you on Kamino…” Crosshair cuts himself off.

Tech sighs. “Do not try to shoulder the weight of shared blame, Crosshair. We might have all made different decisions with different outcomes. I am sorry we did not try to find you sooner.” 

Crosshair shakes his head, and Tech hears a sharp intake of breath. He is moving before he thinks better of it, sitting next to Crosshair on the rough, wood slat floor. He wraps an arm around Crosshair’s back, drawing him into his side. The former sniper resists at first, leaning away, but Tech takes a metaphorical page from Wrecker’s book and holds fast until Crosshair resigns to be held. 

“I know that I am late to say it; however, it is true nonetheless,” Tech says in a low voice. “I am most relieved you found your way home.” 

“It was Omega’s fault,” Crosshair huffs. He swallows audibly and adds, “She brought you home too.” 

Tech smiles. “She does have an uncanny aptitude for finding things that are lost.” 

“How is it that you can say something profound and make it sound like an understatement?” Crosshair chuckles brokenly. 

“It is one of my many talents,” Tech says. 

They sit for a long time in comfortable silence.

***

Omega announces that she can stay on Pabu for two weeks. What is exploring the island to Tech is reminiscing to his siblings as they share stories and memories associated with every place they go. 

This large rock formation on the west beach is where Crosshair and Hunter taught Omega how to dive. 

This little fishing boat is the one they built together during their first spring on Pabu. 

These tide pools are where they spent nearly every Benduday in the summer. 

This is where they built a sand castle so big that it took the tide nearly a week to smooth it back to nothing. 

This clearing is where they’d go camping to practice Omega’s survival skills. 

This is the street Omega was running down when she fell and broke her arm. 

This is the food stall where they’d get their decanting day treats every year. 

Countless memories excitedly shared. 

And he missed every single one. 

It is the last afternoon before Omega leaves that their brothers return to the house early. They do not say it, but Tech can see that they are tired, their stamina not the same as it was when they were soldiers and younger. So they leave Omega and Tech and Batcher down on the beach, telling them they’ll have fresh caf ready for them when they come home. 

Tech and Omega watch Batcher chase after the moon-yos, the little creatures chattering at the lurca hound as they scamper just out of reach. Omega chuckles sadly, poking at the sand with a piece of driftwood. “She's getting old,” she mutters. “The moon-yos are letting her keep up.” 

“Batcher does not seem to mind,” Tech observes. 

“She doesn’t know any better,” Omega says. “She doesn’t know that time is a thief. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know either. Just enjoy each and every day without wondering when it will end.” 

That is a somber thought. Tech turns his gaze to the water, waves calmly lapping the shore, unperturbed by the bleak conversation. 

“You will leave tomorrow?” Tech asks. 

Omega nods. “At sunup.” 

Batcher starts barking at something she’s found, leaping and wagging her tail. Omega smiles and pushes herself to her feet, going to see what the beast has discovered. 

Tech knows why his brothers do not join Omega in the Rebellion. They have already fought a war, fought for the life they now have, the peace they’ve now embraced. He discussed it with them late one night after Omega had gone to bed. It was not a decision made lightly, especially Omega leaving to join the Rebellion on her own. Hunter admitted that her ambitions clashing with his fear had led to many heated arguments in the beginning, until Omega tried to slip away into the night without warning. Omega is a warrior, a rescuer, a fighter. She is restless and uneasy until she knows she has done everything in her power to help those in need.

Tech understands her drive deeply. But to watch her leave again, he does not think he can stand it. He’s already lost so much time…

“Perhaps,” Tech says, softly, almost inaudible over the noise of the surf, “I will come with you.” 

Omega doesn’t hear him, but he’s already made up his mind. 

***

Tech wakes before the sun rises, but Omega’s room is already empty. She said her goodbyes last night to each of them, and Tech did not say a word about his plan; however, he had hoped to catch her before she left the house. He does not have much, but he snatches the small bag he packed and bolts out the front door, not as quietly as he would have hoped. The path to the cavern has become familiar enough that even in the dim light of approaching dawn, he finds his way quickly. 

He only slows his pace when he sees his sister ahead of him, just entering the gaping mouth of the cave.

“If you are under the impression that you are going without me, that is not going to happen,” he says as he comes in behind her. 

Omega stops short and her shoulders drop subtly, before she turns to face him, dark eyes weary. “Tech, you belong here, with our brothers. We just got you back…we can’t - we won’t - risk losing you again.” 

“That is not for any of you to decide,” Tech declares. “You have chosen that your path is with the Rebellion, and I have chosen that my path is with my sister. So much of my time has been stolen. I did not see you grow up as our brothers did. I did not help teach you or raise you. I can make up for that now.”

“Tech,” Omega sighs, “You taught me so much–” 

“Please, Omega,” Tech cuts her off. “I have already decided. Do not try to leave me behind, because we both know I can and will find alternate means. It would be much simpler this way.” 

That makes his sister smile, a battle worn grin that looks far too old. “I suppose you’re right about that,” she concedes, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “But what will Hunter say?” 

“He’d probably say don’t take unnecessary risks, and watch out for one another,” Hunter’s voice calls out. 

Tech takes a steadying breath before he faces his brothers who have come in behind them. “Apologies, I did not mean to wake you when I left,” he says.

“If you hadn’t meant to wake us,” Crosshair says with a wry grin, “you wouldn’t have sounded like a herd of stampeding rancors as you ran out the door.” 

“Rancors do not move in herds,” Tech tells him. 

Crosshair groans. “It made my point, didn’t it?”  

“I was trying to catch up to Omega,” Tech explains, “I fully intended on returning to give my farewells before officially departing.” 

“You better have,” Wrecker says, scooping Tech up in his arms. “You keep an eye on little Meg. She’s a crazy pilot. Learned it from you.” 

“It’s called skill,” Omega retorts playfully. “But yes, I did learn it from Tech.” 

Tech wriggles out of Wrecker’s grip in time for Crosshair to sidle up and put a loose arm over Tech’s shoulder. “Make Omega come visit more often,” he says. 

Hunter nods. “And make sure she calls us at least once a week.” 

Omega rolls her eyes. “Guys, Tech’s not coming to be my babysitter. If anything, I’m going to be reminding him we need to call.”

“In that case,” Hunter says, pulling Omega into his arms, “make sure Tech comes and visits his older brothers once in a while, huh?”

Omega leans into him. “Of course. We both will. I promise.” 

It is well past sunup before Tech and Omega board her ship. He waits for her to move to the pilot’s seat, but she hangs back, watching him with a smile. “You wanna get us out of here?” she asks. “Modified this beauty myself…well, Echo helped. But you can let me know how she handles.” 

Tech grins. He does not need to be asked twice. 

END

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[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 17)

Hello, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics! Apologies again for the huge delay. I've had a busy last couple of weeks, but also...well, I posted about this earlier, but I hath been consumed by the beast that is Deadpool & Wolverine and have fallen back into my Wolverine obsession. I won't go on too much about that here, because that's not what you're here for, but I am letting you all know that it is definitely the most to blame for why this is so late lol.

But enough about that! Back to the real reason I have these little openers: thank you all so much for your support of this series. It's crazy to me that anyone at all cares about what I've read and liked, but that so many of you have taken an interest and even shared these lists is truly mind-blowing. So, truly, thank you all so much.

I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerherderette) (G | 1/1 | 3,880)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

[excerpt] “Stiles loved that Jeep,” the Sheriff says with a wistful smile. “It was Claudia’s. When he left it behind…” He turns his gaze elsewhere, at some distant spot beyond Derek’s shoulder.

Derek feels a claw rip through the fragile paper. He’s not sure if the Sheriff changed his mind about allowing Derek to take the Jeep. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he did.

“I’m doing my best. And I know; I want to get it up and running.” Derek wonders whether the Sheriff thinks he’s fixing it up for resale, or souping it up for an off-road joyride. Both possibilities leave him with an icy anger in his gut.

The Sheriff must understand what he feels, because his face softens. “What I meant is that Stiles loved that Jeep. He put whatever little savings he had into keeping that thing running. So, if he left it behind…” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Sometimes, things are too broken to be fixed.”

Derek nods slowly. He understands. But he also knows it’s not just that things break down. It's that sometimes, people give up on them, too.

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Sure of You by inhystereks (G | 1/1 | 4,129)

The Sheriff knew Stiles had found his not-so-little surprise when he went completely silent.

“Dad?” he called.

“Yeah, son?” John called back.

“Why is there a werewolf in the living room?”

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Shine Bright Like a Unicorn by HappyJuicyfruit (G | 1/1 | 5,392)

Stiles never stopped seeing his imaginary friend, Benji the unicorn, he just stopped talking about her.

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how to court a werewolf by graveltotempo (G | 1/1 | 6,592)

Stiles accidentally begins a courtship with Derek. Wary at first, the werewolf accepts, and Stiles ticks off all the boxes of a traditional Hale werewolf courting - oblivious to the whole thing.

Because of course he is.

Peter thinks the entire thing is hilarious.

Cora thinks that they deserve each other.

(spoiler alert: they do)

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Stiles' Annual Halloween Prank by LuneFaitLaFolie (T | 1/1 | 6,736)

Working the graveyard shift on Halloween night, John spends most of his time waiting for the phone call that Stiles and Scott have been caught attempting their annual Halloween prank.

He isn't expecting that call to come in the form of a neighbour seeing a group of people covered in blood and dressed as werewolves potentially breaking into his house. Checking up on it himself, he really isn't prepared for the absolute mess unfolding in his kitchen.

Maybe those traumatised teenagers caught smoking weed in the preserve knew what they were talking about when freaking out over werewolves and witches and a psycho with a bat...

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Special Delivery (subway edition) by FiannlyPhoebe (NR | 1/1 | 7,630)

“You’re what?” Stiles yells.

Derek jerks the phone away from his ear and waits a few beats before putting it back. “I’m adopting the baby I found on the subway last month,” he repeats.

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Oh, Alpha of Mine by whentheywrite (M | 1/1 | 9,806)

When the alpha came for him, it was at the library. But Stiles had never wanted the bite.

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A Heart That's Overgrown by Justagirlwithapen (E | 5/5 | 14,852)

When Stiles is five, he meets Derek Hale. When Stiles is seven an itch begins in his throat, and when he’s ten he can no longer ignore it. When Stiles is 11 and a half, he coughs his first petals. When he’s 12, Derek Hale leaves town and when he’s 13 the petals stop and the itch lessens. But at 16, the shit hits the fan. At 16, Derek comes home.

The disease is progressing at a rapid rate, Derek is focused on revenge and his betas, and Stiles can barely admit his feelings to himself let alone anyone else. But flowers are crawling up his throat, and something’s gotta give.

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One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (NR | 16/16 | 22,238)

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

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New Family series by DarkJediQueen (3 works | T-E | 26,986)

1. Life with the Hales (T | 1/1 | 9,681) Stiles finds a family that likes him for him. No change needed. He latches on with both hands and his heart. 2. Life with Derek and Cora (M | 1/1 | 9,240) Derek is more than happy to have Cora and Stiles with him in San Francisco. With them close again, he can start his courtship of Stiles. 3. Life in the Shop (E | 1/1 | 8,065) Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, living full time and opening up his new shop.

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Morning Light by heartsdesire456 (T | 1/1 | 27,272)

After two years as a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, not to mention a lifetime of being the kid of an officer of the law, Stiles had seen some things in his time. Some weird shit happened in Beacon Hills, really. However, no amount of animals mauled in the woods, people going missing, psychotic teenagers going on killing sprees with their trained pet mountain lions (or so the official report stated; Stiles didn’t trust his dad’s account of that night back when he was in high school) could prepare Stiles for the sheer ‘what the hell?!’-ness of waking up at six in the morning for his shift, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and then noticing that outside the back window there was a little girl playing in his flower beds.

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Here We Are Again series by crossroadswrite (2 works | G-T | 27,528)

Basically I listened to Taylor Swift's All Too Well, got feels and this happened.

1. You Remember It All; When I Loved You So (T | 1/1 | 21,413) Derek takes a step forward and then stops. Stiles can see the way his muscles tense and tremble like he’s holding himself back by a hair. “What-“ his voice breaks, he gets a little choked off and has to drop his eyes. It’s been one year. He doesn’t think he can look at him after one year. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles into the floor, knows that Derek will hear him. “I-“ 2. I Can Picture It After All These Days (G | 1/1 | 6,115) Derek’s not nervous. He’s done this a thousand times. He just has to knock on the door, greet Stiles and somehow try to convince him to take his sorry ass back so they can date and live happily ever after. Derek shifts a little on the porch, shaking out his arm like he’s loosening his muscles for a fight. He can do this. He can totally do this.

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don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) (T | 1/1 | 30,926)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

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Hold The Day by Daisyapples (NR | 1/1 | 38,405)

Derek froze, fear and anger battling inside of him.

“Personally, I’m very protective of the things I love,” Argent continued. “But that’s something I learned from my family. And you don’t have much of that these days. Do you?”

“Wow, man.” Stiles suddenly rounded the petrol pumps and put himself between Argent and Derek. “Low blow.”

It was almost amusing to see how put out Argent was; he shifted on his feet, hands clenched into fists as if he wanted to hit Stiles. Derek wanted to grab the boy and put him behind him but he also liked having a shield between him and the hunter.

“You know who this is, right?” Stiles gestured wildly, almost hitting both himself and the Camaro. “Little orphan Annie here lost almost his whole family in a house fire. You wanna learn a bit of tact?”

Derek was almost amused at the boy who had just called him little orphan Annie preaching tact.

Almost.

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Timing is Everything series by ChloeWeird (ChloeBYoung) (5 works | T-M | 63,159)

Starts off as accidental baby acquisition, then morphs into full-fledged domestic fluff with bonus angst.

Series is complete, but there might be a couple more little ficlets in me, just timestamps on the series.

1. Perfect Timing (T | 3/3 | 9,613) Nothing had tried to kill them for three whole years. His dad stopped updating the "Supernatural Accident Free for X days" counter. The pack was stable. The timing was perfect and they could totally do this. Stiles just had to convince Derek. Somehow, taking their relationship to the next level doesn't go as planned. 2. Comes With Time (M | 7/7 | 22,787) Four months ago, Stiles and Derek rescued a terrified young werewolf from an animal shelter, and now, they call him their son. But loving him may not be enough to help him heal from the trauma of months in captivity. 3. Borrowed Time (T | 1/1 | 3,014) Stiles gets a harsh reminder that their son wasn’t always theirs...and that Teddy’s family was never located. 4. That Time Again (M | 6/6 | 11,713) Stiles and Derek decide that they want to add to their family. But life doesn’t always work out the way they want it to. 5. Time Outs (T | 8/8 | 16,032) 1k-2k ficlets set in the "Timing is Everything" Universe. May be updated if I get inspired, but I'll mark it complete for now.

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The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (E | 2/2 | 82,866)

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

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southpaw series by elisela (13 works | G-E | 83,390)

Hello, 'tis I, Tin. Once again, Tumblr is throwing a hissy fit about me including all of the series summaries for the individual parts of this series. Usually when this happens, I give you my own little synopsis of the series in effort to entice you, but I'm going to do it a little different this time. Instead, I offer you the summary for the main story that I think is the perfect enticement to the series as a whole--

From part 2 of this series, "ahead of the count":

“Yankee fan,” Derek says, laughing when Stiles makes a disgusted face. “The Bronx Bombers, Stiles, you can’t be a New Yorker and—” “Stop talking right now,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling Derek in by his coat. “This is making me rethink everything." “I’ll never watch them again,” Derek promises, and Stiles laughs against his mouth.

Or: Stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY Mets when he meets and falls in love with Derek. Derek doesn’t know.

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Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) (E | 12/12 | 109,100)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.

Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

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Shut Up and Help Us series by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (2 works | NR | 144,162)

1. Of Course It's Fairies (NR | 54/54 | 100,257) While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead. Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat. [I did not include the Fae & Fairies tag because after the first three chapters or so, they do not really play a large part in the fic, so I didn't want to mislead anyone!] 2. Survival Is A Habit (NR | 31/31 | 43,905) Nearly a year after the Hale pack defeated their first real threat, Talia gets a call inviting them to attend the Triennial Pack Convention. They gladly accept, hoping to use the TPC as one last celebration before the younger members go off to college. But when a series of events puts the pack at risk, they find themselves in desperate need of allies.

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What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm (E | 4/4 | 118,749)

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

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[roguelov]

Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 4)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: minor angst (dealing with nightmares and depression), mostly fluff, pining, blood (reader gets minor cut)

Chapter 3 and more chapters to come!

Over the few days, Morpheus had noticed a dreary cloud forming and seemingly growing over your head. It casted its gloom and rain dampening your radiance. Your smile was not quite as bright, it barely reached your now sullen eyes. Your presence was no longer felt in every room. Your laughter, your occasional humming, your musical-like steps were gone. You were a shadow, a husk. And big by bit, you retreated from him; you actively avoided him, or so he believed.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus asked one evening.

The pair was in the study. Papers littered all over the desk along with uncapped inkwells and used fountain pens. They poured and poured over the dull necessities of maintaining the bookshop - going over profits, bills, shipments, and new orders.

Lucienne peered at her lord over her glasses quizzically. “Yes?”

“Have you spoken with our dear mortal recently?” Morpheus still stood over the desk and continued to scan over documents, trying not to look bothered by his inquiring question or your sudden change.

“No, I haven’t.”

A tension set in his jaw. “I see.”

Lucienne quickly picked up on Morphues’s displeasure. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. She was not oblivious to her lord’s far more chirper attitude since welcoming you into the manor. “May I ask what brought up this question?”

“Curiosity,” he replied nonchalantly.

Lucienne hummed, unconvinced. “Curiosity? Or concern?”

Her question stirred a reaction out of him. Morpheus whipped his head, now facing Lucienne directly. “And if I am, is there anything wrong in worrying about her?” His question was one of concern for you, yet his tone in which he spoke was biting - what exactly was Lucienne implying?

Lucienne’s smile only grew. She calmly responded, “No, sir.”

Upon seeing Lucienne’s calmness, Morpheus’s shoulders instantly dropped. His anger was misplaced. All the fight was drained from him, and soon the truth spilled out. “She -“ he sighed - “she does not seem happy and … and I do not know if it is because of living here or because of troubled nights.”

Lucienne thought of how there was an easy solution to his conundrum: he should speak with you. However, she held her tongue this time and instead opted to ask a question regarding you. “Troubled nights?”

“The other night, she spoke of having a nightmare.” Morpheus’s eyes shone with a heavy sorrow. “She … she was utterly frightened, Lucienne. Her fear nearly choked me.”

Lucienne frowned. “I was not aware, but a nightmare is a nightmare. There is not much one can do.”

Morpheus sighed, dropping into his chair. He tipped his head back and stared blankly up at the high ceiling. His heart - ancient and heavily barricaded - ached to see you smile. Just once more, just for a moment. In such a brief period, you had invaded his thoughts. He did not realize he craved it, sought it out, until it was taken from him.

Taken.

It seemed many things were taken from him in recent years. He pushed aside those thoughts and painful memories. He ran his hands over his face then through his tousled hair. Such complex feelings swirled inside his chest and constricted his heart.

“You care for her.” Morpheus lifted his head, looking towards Lucienne. She continued, “Which is never a bad thing, sir. She has brought new life here.”

And in you, she thought.

“I care for all of you,” he answered, dismissing her comment.

“You do, and we appreciate it.”

He raised an eyebrow at the weighted pause at the end of her sentence. “But?”

She smiled to herself. “I believe the care you feel for us and her are different.”

Morpheus frowned. Was he truly so easy to read? Did he truly become enamored with his housekeeper so quickly like a tale of forbidden romance? Did he truly want a partner … or did he want something else? He turned his head away, grumbling to himself.

Care? If one could call it such.

Does a farmer not care for his slaughter? Care, hunger, desire, it all can twist together. They can form into complex knots, making it impossible to tell where one may begin or end.

“For you, my lord.”

A beautiful picturesque rose dripping in a passionate red appeared in front of Morpheus’s face. He was working tediously in his study, and surprisingly failed to hear him. He just appeared, a magical and strange habit of his.

Morpheus blinked, gently taking the rose out of his hand. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

He smiled warmly like a sunny day. His wondrous new grander had already made such a change in the once dismal manor. Colors of all sorts were injected into the very foundation. Flowers bloomed wildly and freely, life blossomed with a new fever. “I thought you might like it, sir. Red suits you perfectly.”

”How do you do it, Lucienne?” Morphues whispered softly, changing the conversation. His voice was filled with sorrow as memories resurfaced. Sweet, painful memories, ones he wished he could forget yet also wouldn’t trade anything in the world for they were more precious than any gold or jewelry.

“Meaning what, sir?”

”To be close to her, to not be affected by her?”

Ah.

”Well, someone taught me control.” Lucienne slowly organized papers. “Someone had once found me in an awful state and was able to bring me back to my senses. Now, part of me cannot bare the smell of human blood without my stomach twisting into disgust.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened.

Lucienne gathered up the papers, ready to part of the night. “A solution to your problem: perhaps you can try to talk to her and cheer her up, sir. I’m sure she would appreciate the gesture.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”

She chuckled, almost in a knowing way, and strolled out of the study. “I believe you will figure it out, sir.”

The soft click of the door echoed in the now quiet, lonely space. Morpheus peered over to the window with its curtains drawn. Even drawn closed, the setting sunlight streamed through the cracks trying to warm the earth in its last moments. Tilting his head, he saw the surrounding woods fade in the dying light. As his gaze darted around taking in the surroundings, it landed on a corner of dark greens and deep reds. Lucienne’s words replayed in his head. He was on his feet, already looking for you before he fully understood it himself. His feet carried him downstairs towards your room, however he stopped in the dining room. Looking ahead, he instead saw you sitting in the sun room. You were on the couch with your back to him and your head bowed. He immediately changed course.

Quietly, he opened the door. The potted trees and fauna stretched its shadows and created unique jagged shapes. A soft orange bathed over the room. The fractured soft light shone through the glass and casted you in an ethereal halo of twinkling gold.

You were a goddess of light.

As he walked towards you, you did not stir. You had heard him by the high pitched squeak of the door and the faint clacking of the heels on the tile floor. He stopped by your side, peering down at you. “I see you are still reading that book from before.”

You laughed, a quick huff through your nose, and closed the book in your lap. You glanced up at him with a forced smile. “Trying and failing, sir.”

His eyes swept over your face. Gaunt was the first word to come to mind. You appeared gauntly and ragged. Bags were carved under your eyes, and your skin had lost its glow. He pushed on, trying not to dwell and stare at your new appearance. “And what has your mind occupied this time?”

The other night. The nightmares. An unpleasant past. You.

“I suppose a lot of things,” you answered with a heavy sigh.

Morpheus frowned slightly. Yet, he quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a small endearing smile. He extended his hand down towards you. “I know a place to help clear your mind, would you care to join me?”

Your eyes flickered up. His dazzling blue eyes - contrasted against the golden dazzling air - only showed kindness and a hint of concern. You should refuse, you should stay or perhaps return to your room for the night, but … but how could you say no? Not when he looked at you in such an alluring way, and not since he piqued your deep rooted curiosity. You carefully set the book aside on the plush cushions, and placed your hand in his. “I would love to.”

Morpheus’s smile grew as he drew you up to your feet. “Wonderful.”

He hooked your arm through his and guided you forward. Together, you walked out through the back entrance of the sun room, heading directly for the rose maze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, however its last bits of rays faintly colored the sky. Oranges and pinks still stained the vast canvas known as the sky. They desperately clung behind as rich purples, dark blues, and an all consuming black began to drip down coating all corners. The moon, perfectly sliced in half, already shone in the dimming sky. Its companions, stars, began to twinkle and fill the empty space for the moon was never alone. The rose maze, under this changing light, was mysterious. The greens almost appeared black, while the reds were embers of a dying fire. Excitement buzzed across your skin. Your heart flipped, nearly dropping into your stomach. It was all so thrilling to finally set food inside, and to be by Morpheus’s side as your guide.

Even if you shouldn’t, even if a logical part scolded you.

Morpheus drew you close as you approach the entrance of the maze. “Now, stay close. At night, it can be tricky to navigate.”

There was a hint of humor in his voice as if he was trying to spook you. You chuckled, shaking your head, “Really? Is that your plan? To take me in and do what you want without anyone seeing?”

He laughed, a deep rich laugh that vibrated in your own chest. “You have me figured out.”

You smiled, a true genuine smile. It returned as if it never truly left. It was nice to be joking and laughing with him. It was surprisingly so easy, like two friends and nothing else.

No titles, no past.

Stepping into the maze was stepping into another world. The maze hedges were easily seven feet tall and two or three feet wide, it fully blocked out the world the further you walked in. The hedges were cut and trimmed to perfection. No branch stuck out, only roses. And the roses? Gorgeous with no flaws. There were full roses with their petals spread out to greet you, there were buds still closed waiting for their time, and there were roses in every stage of blooming covering almost every inch of the hedges. The sweet floral aroma tickled your nose and filled the air.

You hummed, pleased by the scent.

Morpheus peered over at you, taken by your wide curious eyes. Your eyes darted all around, fascinated by it all, memorized by its beauty. Strolling further in, he followed the correct path leading to the center of the maze. His stride did not hesitate, but only slowed when your eyes longingly lingered back on all the passing flowers.

Best of all, and to your surprise, there weren't only red roses.

No, the deeper you walked the red stayed, yet yellows, pinks, and whites were slowly incorporated into the mix. A beautiful blend, and various shades, of warm inviting colors. It was like a storybook, a scenery plucked from a far off prosperous kingdom. Tempted by their beauty, you reached out, running your fingers along the soft petals. It was fine silk, or like a cloud.

“Careful -“

You hissed, stopping in place. A thorn had pricked your thumb.

Morpheus instantly frowned and moved in front of you. He carefully took your hand, examining your thumb. It was nothing to be concerned about. An insignificant prick, no worse than a paper cut. A small dot of blood began to well up. The dot sparkled like a certain ruby pinned to his tie. Before he could stop himself, Morpheus brought your thumb up to his lips. His lips - soft and gentle - pressed into the pad of your thumb kissing it.

Your heart flipped in your chest.

Morpheus’s eyes glanced up, locking with yours. A look flashed across his eyes, a look which could only be described as hunger. He nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs by such a simple look. He pulled away and dropped your hand. Turning his back to you, he mumbled, “Apologies for my behavior.”

He licked his lips, tasting the tiniest bit of your blood. He had to suppress a groan. It was truly addicting, like a newly discovered liquor he could happily get drunk off of each and every night.

“I have an older sister who used to do such a thing if any of us were injured. It’s a habit I unknowingly picked up,” he explained.

No, not explained but excused. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. However, it was a lie he told himself and you, rather than admit the aroma of your blood tempted him to act.

“It’s okay,” you muttered, feeling your heart skip in a way you had never felt before. “I should have known better.”

Morpheus wanted to say something, wanted to do something. He wanted to draw you close, he wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, he wanted to nuzzle his face into your neck, he wanted to hear you say his name over and over, he wanted to -

“Please,” he cleared his throat, “I would refrain from running your fingers over them. The thorns are quite sharp, and we needn’t any more accidents. Come, the center is up ahead.”

He walked - no, marched - ahead, and did not bother looking back to see if you were following.

Your lips thinned in thought. You silently followed him as this bizarre tension hovered in the shared space. The only sounds were the crunching of both of your shoes against the pebbled path. You eyed Morpheus’s back curiously and with some trepidation. He had once again pulled away from you. He showed you such kindness, yet almost scared by something he backed off. Why? What frightened him? What thoughts floated around in that head of his?

Why do you care, a voice called out.

You tensed a little. Why did you? It was so pointless and idiotic, especially when -

“We’re here,” Morpheus said. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Skirting around the hedge, you let out a small gasp. The pebbled path opened up. The space was carved into a perfect circle, with patches of lush full grass that tempted any tired feet to rest. One could lay and gaze up at the stars, or have a picnic in the high sun. However, most would turn to the concrete benches that surrounded the showstopper: a fountain at the very center. The fountain - smaller than the one in front of the house, yet had four tiers compared to the three - had dozens upon dozens of rose petals floating across the surface. Peering up, the moon looked back down at you in this secret oasis smiling. Its light rippled in the water, scattering its reflection. With the various colors from the roses, and the moonlight’s, it glittered here like a treasure trove.

It was breathtaking.

Morpheus glanced over his shoulder back to you. His heart lurched forward. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight. You slowly approached the foundation, dipping your fingers into the cool water. You picked up a petal, admiring it before setting it back into the water. A smile never left your lips. Any issues, any problems from before, were gone. Each of you solely existed in this moment. Morpheus felt his heart being drawn to you, bound to you. Anything you wanted, anything to keep you smiling, he would do.

What a frightening and thrilling feeling, so familiar yet so foreign to him.

You moved and sat down on the bench, watching as the water spilled over the tiered edges and as petals spun and danced on top of the water. The sounds of the water splashing, and trickling, was hypnotic and soothing. You sighed dreamily and murmured to yourself, “What a beautiful place.”

“It is.” You turned your head, looking up at Morpheus. His eyes were directly on you as he spoke, you always seemed to get his full attention. He smiled softly. He produced a rose from behind his back - a pure white rose that glittered like snow under the moonlight. He sat beside you on the bench, “May I?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, tucking the roses behind your ear. As he drew back, his nimble fingers skimmed along your jaw. His eyes softened. You truly were a fresh change in his life, a well needed change. You had taken his heart in the short time you worked here with your humor, your wit, your curiosity, and your kindness. He was smitten for deep in his heart he was a hopeless romantic.

He turned away from you, looking to the fountain. Your heart skipped. His touch burned across your skin. You reached up, touching the soft pure white petals. A smile crossed your lips as you stared at the multifaceted lord.

“I suppose I have to admit I do have an ulterior motive for asking you to join me,” he began.

“Oh?” You titled your head. “And what would that be?”

To see you smile again, he thought.

“I have a question to ask, a request, and I did not want anyone else to listen in.”

You leaned forward, silently waiting.

He bowed his head, and dare you say appeared to be almost shy. It surprised you to see him in such a way. He peered up at you with a cluster of unreadable emotions on his face. “I would like to ask if you would join me to attend my dear friend’s party.”

“What?” You breathed out.

“I want you to accompany me to Hob’s party, if you so wish to join me.”

“I … I am unsure. I am just taken back by your offer.”

“Do you truly find it so surprising?”

“Given my employment to you, I suppose I do,” you joked lightly.

“If you wish, think of it as a bonus for your wonderous upkeep of the manor.” He searched in your eyes hoping to find his answer. “So? Do you accept?”

You smiled softly, “How could I pass up such generosity? Yes.”

Lucienne was right. Morpheus knew exactly what to do.

Shortly after his surprising offer, Morpheus explained he will take care of anything. He will find a dress for you for the night, and pay all expenses - you reluctantly agreed after much arguing.

Soon, arm in arm again, he guided you out of the maze, and towards your room for the night. He paused in front of you, hovering slightly as if something weighed on him, as if he wished to say something else. His lips parted, but he just bowed his head. “Goodnight, I hope you have sweeter dreams tonight.”

“Thank you,” you bowed your head.

Say something, do something.

Instead, you just simply smiled. “Goodnight, sir.”

You twisted around to go into your room when a hand latched around your wrist. You suppressed a shiver at his cool hand. You peered over your shoulder looking down at the hand then slowly your eyes trailed up to see Morpheus’s wondrous blue eyes.

“Please,” he whispered softly, “when it is just us, call me Morpheus. No need for such formalities.”

Your heart fluttered, like a hummingbird. “Of course. Morpheus. Goodnight.”

His eyes twinkled, utterly overjoyed. A smile spread over his lips. He gently let go of your wrist and stood back with perfect posture. He bowed his head again, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You turned, finally stepping into your room. You gently shut the door as a giddy feeling washed over you. Morpheus’s footsteps soon faded away. You sighed, dreamily. Taking the rose from behind your ear, you floated over to the nightstand by your bed. You gently laid it down. Your fingers traced over the petals, unable to stop smiling. Maybe later you will get a cup and water for it. Your eyes, however, soon caught a folded piece of paper on the stand. Your smile faltered. Picking it up and unfolding it, your mother and father smiled back up at you. You folded the picture again. You tucked it under the beautiful white rose.

Just a little longer, you thought. I promise.

[rosieposey-torturedpoet]

"Now, remember, we don't know what all she's been through: she's sleeping right now and may wake up in a couple of hours"

"Yes, Medic, I know all that. This isn't my first time" Caretaker smiled warmly.

"Just wanted to make sure, good luck" Medic patted Caretaker on the shoulder and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The house was the usual cookie-cutter house that Caretaker has been in dozens of times. Many people confuse Caretaker and Medic: assuming they have the same role. However, Medic's job is to get Whumpee out of the woods, and then Caretaker steps in. Whumpee is given a room in a house that's creatively referred to as a 'Caretaker house,' which is where Caretaker will live with them full time to help them heal from day to day. Caretaker knows the drill and this house like the back of her hand, yet she still looks across the living room, over at the door that Whumpee is currently sleeping in.

So Caretaker is as quiet as possible when walking up the steps to get to her designated room.

It had been around 4 hours later when Caretaker had finally seen a sign of life coming from Whumpee's room. She was in the kitchen making dinner, with quiet music coming from her record player she set up right next to the TV. Over the years, she's bought a vynl for each of her Whumpees. Once she got to know them: and their favorite artist, she would go out and buy a few records 'inspired' by them and they would sign one.

Caretaker had zoned out making dinner: she snapped out of her thoughts only because she heard a door open: snapping her head over her left shoulder, she was suprised to see a girl who couldn't have been over 17. Her dark curly hair was resting on her shoulders and it seemed as if she was coated in bandages. Her nose was crooked, but not in the natural sense, but in the sense that it had been broken one too many times. "Uh..who are you?" The girl questioned

"I'm Caretaker, I'm gonna be watching over you for a little while"

"Okay, uhm. What's that smell?"

"Dinner, you hungry? I made sure to make some for the both of us"

Even though the girl shook her head no, she still came up and sat at a barstool: still seemingly dazed, as if she couldn't process things at a normal speed. Which is to be expected. "So, would you like to talk, or would you like me to stay quiet"

"Hm?"

"Would you like me to stay silent and let you process things for a little bit. Or, would you rather have a conversation and small talk? I'm not gonna be mad at you for picking either option"

"Tell me who you are"

Caretaker's interest was piqued hearing that: "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here? Who are you? Why do you care? And what happened to that one big burly guy that save me?"

Caretaker thought for a second, and started, "Well, for starters: that man's name was Medic and he's a coworker of mine. A very sweet guy, you were in good hands. And like I said, my name is Caretaker. I am a registered nurse and this is where I am going to be living here for however long it takes you to heal. And I care, because you're human and deserve stability as much as anyone else." Caretaker sets a place of food in front of Whumpee, "Any other burning questions?"

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 [𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 4]

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: Larissa was compelled to use her annual leave to take care of her nieces for five days; what she wasn’t expecting was that an unnecessarily attractive baby-sitter would be accompanying her as well. 

a/n: I was stalling for months, I know, and I am deeply sorry. I lost the motivation and the plot and thought about discontinuing this but I suddenly felt the urge to finish this so here you go. I did my very best with this one. And yep there will be another chapter, last one hopefully.

warning/s: NSFW

<<Previous part

@enchantressb @barbarasstar @willowshadenox @gwendolinechristieiscute @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @poorwritingandstalecoffee @justcallmelittleone @digital-demise @kimiinou @a-queen-and-her-throne @larissaoftarthweems

You awoke to the light scratching of her blunt nails against your scalp. The steady hum of her heart was audible in your ears as you found yourself pressed against her with almost half of your weight. She had her phone occupying her left hand, the length of her legs were stretched on the bed, one ankle over the other. It was still dark, you noticed. The curtains were still drawn, and she had her lamp on, softly casting light in the room.

"Hello," you whispered, gently trying to stir her focus.

Larissa peered down at you, "Did I wake you?" 

"No, no…It just sort of happened. What are you doing?" 

"Checking my emails but I’m done just about now."

Larissa locked her phone with an audible click before setting it down on the nightstand with the screen facing the surface. Now she was looking at you with undivided attention. It made you feel important.

“Did you know you passed out?”

"What? No I didn't." you let out an incredulous laugh, "That's simply not true." You could hardly believe it and oh, she was adamant to make you.

You felt her shift, a hand winding up around your shoulder.

"Oh, but it is. I didn't break you or did I?" The woman barely had to work up the effort to hide how smug she was of herself. It dripped down to the very last word. Her head tilted to the side. You couldn’t see her, with your face buried on her side but you knew she was smirking. It made you blush more.

It was hard to believe it but then if you’d think about it, it wasn’t entirely impossible that what she was saying was somehow…well, the truth, especially if the sex was that fucking good to begin with which she had proven enough in the last two days’ time. Passing out from sex wasn’t totally in your cards this year. Damn. Surprises, right?

At your age you would think that you could last longer, that you’d be the restless one, but boy, you were utterly mistaken. You could vaguely remember shit but then again, Larissa didn’t look like the one to make up stories.

You kept your face hidden, thinking if she couldn’t see you and you couldn’t see her then you wouldn’t have to talk and pretend you had fallen asleep once more.

“You seem broken, dear. Can’t speak now, hmm?” 

Your cheeks tingle pleasantly, “Sorry,” you mumble. The sound of her low, seductive chuckle reverberated through her chest. Damn it, woman! Your jaw clenched before you let out an exasperated sigh. She chuckled again.

Larissa coaxed you out of your hiding, “Look at me.” 

Your heart stuttered once your eyes met, breath temporarily stilling. Her cheeks were glowing, like the after sex haze was still left on her skin. And before your mind could drift to some far away land, she spoke again.

“You didn’t want me to stop. Why?” This time her tone wasn’t playful. Her brows slightly furrowed.

Your eyes wandered elsewhere, “Do I really have to answer that?” You were embarrassed enough that you passed out after the deed, you swore that if you answer this, you’d die from the utter humiliation.

“Yes. I want to hear it.”

You risked a fleeting glance, and shit, maybe you shouldn’t have because you were seeing something in her eyes. She looked…concerned, more than anything else. It was perplexing. You were expecting her to look so pleased with herself. Her face didn’t show any of that.

You wanted to squirm away from her hold but it looked like you would get nowhere with how intense those eyes were looking at you.

Just then you were struck how gravely serious she was. With a deep sigh, you let yourself sink into her. You were thankful when she didn’t force you to look at her, instead she held you safely in her arms, still waiting for an answer.

There was a long stretch of silence: strong, intense, charged, it was awkward. Realizing that she was waiting, you eventually spoke. 

“I wanted everything to last.” You started, “I didn’t want to stop kissing you or feeling you. And I thought that if I pushed myself I’d be able to treasure this much longer. I wanted to see traces of you on my body. I wanted to remember where you touched me, and kissed me. That you, at some point, owned me.” It was pathetic how easy you let your guard down. Maybe you’d regret this, maybe not. You just wanted to go to sleep now, for sure. 

“I wanted to treasure you.” You found yourself admitting. 

“I’ve never been with someone who made me feel at ease to be just myself. You made me feel confident of my scars and flaws. And I just…I ate that shit up—sorry, but that’s how it feels. And I—I’m not ready to let go just yet. I didn’t mean for this to happen, for me to feel this—whatever it is but you…you did things to me that—God, I should stop. I’m sorry.”

And now you were scaring the poor woman. 

“There. I’ve said it. Can I sleep now?”

—

Larissa wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things that could be the answer this one didn’t slice through her mind. When you passed out seconds after she slipped her cock out, Larissa panicked. First thing she did was check your breathing, then your pulse, and your temperature. She nearly called 911. It was comical when merely seconds later, she heard unmistakable muffled snores.

The woman couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. It was a full belly laugh at first but then she toned it down seconds later. She found it absolutely hilarious she had tears in her eyes. She had never laughed this much. Nor stared at a person for the longest time and felt a sense of warmth wrapping around her heart.

Larissa didn’t want this night to end. It was a terrifying thought, really. But she couldn’t help herself if she wanted you, could she?

It hadn’t been weeks, hell, she knew you for four days and yet…and yet it only mattered so little to her.

“Y/n” she knew you were desperately trying to dodge her now. 

“I swear to God I will kick you off the bed if you don’t look at me.” Now buried under the covers, you poked your head out, keeping the covers right under your chin as if shielding yourself from her. 

She was met with a tearful gaze, “I ruined it, didn’t I?” You murmured.

Weems’ eyes softened, shifting in bed so now she was lying on her side, elbow propped, her hand supporting her head. “Come here.”

You questioningly looked at her,

“Just come here.” She said, her looks alone were beckoning you then patted the space next to her. It shouldn’t be hard, but at the moment, you were too overwhelmed with the sudden realization that you just had.

Gradually you found yourself moving closer. Larissa watched you patiently until you were within her reachclose, but still it wasn’t enough.

“Do I look upset?” She asked. It prompted you to look at her. You shook your head.

“No. But—.” She took the matter in her own hand – literally and figuratively – pulled you with one, strong arm until you were pressed to her. She didn’t let you go.

“There’s no but’s or what if’s.” Her tone left no room for doubt to bloom. You shut up, stunned and scared  that she knew you were thinking about those but also, your heart seemed to calm down a bit if not entirely.

You felt her spoon you, hugging you so tight, her chin perched on your shoulder. She kissed your cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything.” 

You held onto the arm across your waist, relieved. 

“You didn’t ruin anything, love.”

—

The breakfast zizzled in the pan; it was eggs and bacon strips being cooked to perfection. The warm toasts were already sitting on the plate on the counter. You finished plating the waffles before you moved on to slice bananas and strawberries for the kids, Larissa watched you with fascinated eyes as if you were doing something so extraordinary. 

“Strawberry?” 

The woman was pulled from her thoughts when she noticed the fruit you were holding out in front of her. She took a careful bite. The juice dribbled down her chin then into her mouth. It was savoury and sweet. You took the other half into your mouth, chewing with glee.

You both went back to your own stations until breakfast was done and served. 

Now, the girls were pretty much still half asleep, trying very hard to keep their heads up and munch on their fruits and waffles. 

Larissa kept her eyes on you the whole time, only straying whenever you’d look over her direction, she didn’t want you to see how much she longed for you already.

By the time the girls were dropped off to school, Larissa manueved the family car back home in under five minutes.

She was very well aware of the time, as much as she hated checking, she still couldn’t help herself, she thought that ditching her wrist watch was a wise solution but still, her eyes kept wandering to her phone–that at some phone she chucked away to the backseat. Her flight was due at ten pm tonight. She wanted as much time as she had left to be spent with you.

—

“What?” You chuckled away, feeling her hands creeped up from under your shirt to your chest. Larissa kept her lips attached to the skin of your neck, nipping and sucking for a moment before she breathed out her thoughts, “Take off the shirt.”

“Fuck. Again?” You weren’t really complaining though, you were just surprised, it hadn’t been an hour after you showered to rinse the smell of sex off your body after she got home, and now she cornered you against the sink while you were washing the morning dishes.

“Again. Now.” she said with finality in her tone, her teeth scraping your skin deliciously so that you couldn’t help but whimper. 

“And keep washing the plates.” she whispered to your ear as her hands pulled the shirt over your head, your shorts found the same fate as your shirt; thrown somewhere else in the kitchen.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe–your body was anticipating the way her soft hands were fondling over your chest. “Larissa,” your body was steaming hot, sweat starting to drip, and fuck, you were incredibly aroused from how she was manhandling your body. Your slick was positively dripping down your inner thighs.

“You feel so fucking good.” her words went straight down to your cunt, the fluttery and achy feeling made you pressed your thighs as firm as possible.

She clicked her tongue, “Spread wide, sweetheart.” 

Two of her fingers slipped with ease drawing a relieved moan as she kept you filled. She hummed, pressed her front further to your back, her face pressed on the back of your head, inhaling your scent.

She started to drag it, staring low and steady, her other hand still keeping a firm grasp on one of your breasts.

“If you want it faster all you have to do is beg.” even her voice sounded entirely delectable to you that you just moaned in response, your hips starting to rock against her fingers, matching the pace and creating a rhythm. But after some time, you wanted more and she was teasing.

“Harder. I need you to fuck me harder please.”

“Louder, dear.”

“Fuck me harder, please! Please, Larissa, I need you—”

She groaned as she slammed the length of her fingers back into you, this time filling you with another. 

Your head hung low as your hips bucked to her front, giving her a better angle as she took you from behind. You didn’t know how much longer you could support yourself, your arms were already numb as they held your upper body weight on the counter top but she wasn’t showing any signs of stopping anytime sooner. She was set to destroy you and you couldn’t be more pleased with the thought.

The dishes were then again abandoned, she flipped you around, taking one nipple into her mouth before devouring your lips, her fingers still fucking you until you couldn’t process anymore to the point where you were certain that she fucked your brains out.

“Fuck, baby–” you breathed, head falling to her shoulder, “I’m coming”

and come to her fingers you did. 

—

Larissa stroked your back as you nurse yourself with a glass of cold water that she fetched for you. You were perched on the counter where she lifted you up after almost losing your balance, her tall frame wedge in between your thighs. The woman herself looked unbelievably poised like she hardly broke a sweat at all while you sat there like a drenched rat on a rainy day.

“Feeling better?”

You set the glass down beside you, then you pulled her closer with your arms around her neck, your forehead resting against her own, “Mhmm, yes. Thank you.”

The both of you stayed entangled for the next few minutes, breathing in sync and just holding each other for dear life. Whatever was ahead, it was best left unspoken.

*unedited* *evil laugh*

[joshs-big-toe]

do you write fics? i NEED someone to write more josh futterman fics. but like where’s he’s subby yk? i just need that man so bad 😭😭

im not great at writing, but i have been WAITING for a request to write a fic! i am not used to writing in second person so if there's an accidental "i said" or something along those lines forgive me!

cw: josh futturman, sub-josh, fem!reader, p in v, oral sex, descriptive smut, fluff in the end

1911 words

"josh!" you called from down the stairs, not getting a response from him. grumbling, you stomp up the stairs, cursing to yourself under your breath. the dumbass was addicted to this video game called Biotic Wars. at least you think that's the name of the game. it frustrated you. it felt like you haven't had a friend in months because of his obsession with this game. finally, your foot hit the top step of the second floor. "josh?" you called out again, not as loudly. you listened, hearing a soft groan come from behind his door. you hesitantly walk toward his bedroom door, stopping to listen for a moment.

"oh, shit, y/n..." you hear him whine on the other side of the door. you gasp and cover your mouth, surprised by the sudden mention of your name. slowly, you crack your door open slightly. you can't see much, but you can see his shoulder shaking and his jeans down around his ankles. your eyes widen as you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks, as well as a heat pooling between your legs.

"j-josh..." you stutter out while opening the door wider, catching a glimpse of him stroking his dick in a quick manner before his head shot toward you, panic settling into his eyes.

"s-shit!" josh jumped out of his gaming chain, causing it to roll away from him. he reached down, fumbling with his jeans and boxers, trying to pull them up quickly. he tripped, causing him to tumble onto his shelf, falling and knocking it off the wall, causing a loud crash to echo in the room. you watched the chaos unfold in front of you, holding in a laugh. "what," he paused to clear his throat. "what are you doing here?" josh stood up, turning to look at the mess of broken shelf and objects laying on the floor. his hair was messy, falling into his eyes. defeated, he turned back to look at you, his dark eyes looking nervous, chest heaving as he was trying to catch his breath.

"we um, we agreed to hang out today, remember?" a clear flush of pink was dusting my cheeks.

"is it 4:00 already?" he asked, walking over to his desk and looking at the time on his phone. he let a groan and ran his hand down his face. "im sorry," he said, barely in a whisper. you were unsure what to say at this point. you had liked josh for years, but he had never shown interest in you, but god forbid you say anything in the risk that he would actually like you back.

"don't be," you whispered back. he met your gaze, confusion filling his eyes.

"what?"

"i said don't be," you gave him a soft smile. he smiled back softly, walking over and sitting on his bed. you followed, sitting next to him, letting your knees brush against each other.

"how much did you hear?"

"i heard you say my name, but i didn't see much," you said in a very confident and teasing manner. he was looking down at his hands, his face a nice shade of crimson. "what's wrong?" you tease, moving your hand under his chin to make him meet your gaze.

"n-nothing..." he stuttered out. "i just, um," he couldn't get the words out. without thinking, you leaned forward, your lips pressing against his. you heard a small gasp escape josh, but you felt him immediately melt into the kiss. you felt his hand rest on your thigh as he tried to move closer to you. you felt his mouth gap slightly, giving you a chance to slide your tongue in, letting them dance around each other. your hands made their way up into his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, tugging on it slightly. with that, he let out a guttural groan. "fuck," he breathed onto your lips.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," you mumble, adjusting your body to straddle his lap, feeling his cock rubbing on your heat. you began grinding on him softly, making him throw his head back in a stifled moan.

"m-me too," he whined out, grabbing at your ass trying to push you against him harder.

you reach down, grabbing his wrists and making him stop. "no, and be quiet." he looked up at you, a flash of desperation in his eyes. he quickly nodded.

"okay..." he whispered. you got up off of him, pointing at the bed, signaling at him to scoot up and lay down. he immediately did so, you following him to straddle him again, grinding against his confined dick. he bit his lower lip, watching you carefully trying to stifle the whines that were escaping his lips. "please," he whimpered out. you slipped off your shirt, the cold air causing goosebumps to form on your skin. josh bit his lips, eyes hungrily searching your body. you kissed his neck as you worked on the button of his jeans. you trailed kisses down his clothed chest before sliding his jeans and boxers off allowing his cock to spring free, then throwing them into a messy pile on the floor. his eyes followed your movements, hands gripping the bedsheets under him. you slowly began pumping the base of his cock as you brought your tongue down to the tip of his cock, making slow circles around him. his hips moved upward.

"be fucking still," you murmured, grabbing onto his hip with your free hand, gripping it tightly.

"i, im sorry," he whined out. "just feels s'good," his words were slurred together as his head leaned back. you bring your mouth back, wrapping your lips around him, bobbing your head up and down on his length at an agonizingly slow pace. he whined, gripping the back of your head, squirming beneath you. "mmmplease, faster," he gasped out between whines and whimpers.

"so needy," you hummed on him, quickening your speed. he arched his back, his reaction causing the heat between your legs to ache. you ran your tongue on the underneath side of his shaft, sucking on the tip harshly before taking him back into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"fuck im gonna~" you pulled off of him before he had a chance to finish his sentence, not allowing him to have his release. he looked up at you, desperation in his eyes. "p-please y/n, i need to cum," he whined.

"i want to fuck you first, joshy," you grinned before sliding your own shorts and panties off. you moved your hand down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles around it before moving up to him. "I'm going to ride your face, okay? you're going to make me cum before you can," i hummed. eagerly, he moaned out an 'okay' before you straddled his face. you immediately felt his hands grab onto your thighs as his tongue flicked over your folds, causing you to let out a low groan. "fuck, you're doing so good for me," you whispered. you leaned on one hand to brace yourself on the headboard while the other lightly tugged at tufts of his hair. he moaned into your heat as you tugged at his hair. his tongue periodically flicking over your clit, causing tremors of pleasure to run thorough you. you moaned, feeling a heat building up in your core. "fuck josh don't stop," you moaned out. he moved his head back and forth, moving his tongue in and out of you before moving it up to your clit again. before you knew it, you felt your orgasm burst out of you, making your body jolt, throwing your head back in a loud moan. josh moaned underneath you as you rode out your orgasm. you get off him wrapping your hand around his cock, feeling it get impossibly harder with your touch.

"p-please fuck me now," he whined out, unable to contain himself much longer. his eyes were glazed over with pleasure.

"so fucking needy," you mumble as you line his cock up with your entrance, slowly easing yourself onto him, stretching you out. you groaned as he whined, grabbing your hips to push you onto him. this caused you to grab his wrists, pinning them above his head, his eyes not leaving yours. "you're going to be good and not touch me, right?"

"i," he cut himself off with a needy moan as you started slowly bouncing on him, his eyes screwing shut.

"fuck, so big," you said through your own pleasure. "this is better that fucking your hand, mm joshy?" he nodded, his mouth open slightly as he tried to hold it together. you leaned down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. you quickened your movements, attacking his neck while you grinded on him, making him whine and moan. you let go of his hands, placing yours on his chest to brace yourself to quicken your movements even more.

"c-can i come," he breathed out, eyes still shut and brows furrowed. "please i can't hold on much longer," he groaned. you didn't answer, just leaned down to kiss him again, a much softer and intimate kiss. you felt the heat bubbling inside you again as his cock twitched, insinuating his closeness.

"be a good boy, cum inside," you whisper in his ear, you feeling yourself unfolding as your second orgasm hit, clenching around his cock. he groaned, letting out strained breaths as he reached his climax, filling you with his seed. you leaned down to kiss his forehead as he rode out his orgasm.

"s-shit, y/n.." he heaved. you looked down at him, his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead. "thank you," he whispered. his eyes remained shut as he caught his breath. you got off of him, laying down next to him, catching your own breath. "hold on," he quietly said before getting up and leaving the room. he returned quickly with a small towel, gingerly cleaning you off before cleaning himself off. he offered you your underwear and one of his tshirts.

"thank you," you slipped them on as he pulled his boxers back on. you didn't notice at first, but they had a biotic wars pattern on them.

"you're an idiot, joshy." you smiled, looking over to him.

"what, i like the game!" he said, slightly offended. you rolled your eyes as he crawled back onto the bed, laying sideways with his head on your shoulder. he draped his arm over your stomach. "you said you've wanted to do that for a while?" he looked up to you, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"shut up," you smiled.

"what, im being serious!" you couldnt help but laugh.

"well, ive wanted to be with you since we were 15. i started wanting this when i went off to school. i missed you a lot. thought about you all the time really." you sighed out, closing your eyes. you felt him smile against your shoulder.

"ive liked you for a while too, was just scared to say anything." you didnt respond, just planted a kiss on his forehead. he sighed. "please dont tell anyone how much of a loser i am in the bedroom," he chuckled sleepily.

"aww not even my best friend?" he grumbled. "fine, fine you big baby." a comfortable silence filled the room, and soon the both of you drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

okay first fic done lol if yall made it through that and for some reason want more, send me recs! ill do 'em! thanks for reading lol