#I shouldn’t mean this much it should it shouldn’t it shouldn’t

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

edit: i wrote more 🙈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62095903/chapters/158849326

[earthchica]

Make It Right

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: Terry makes it right and apologizes to you for his words and his behavior; soon, you and Terry talk through your issues, getting a better understanding of each other and rebuilding your communication.

warnings: angst, slight communication issues, serious conversation, explicit smut (18+), light daddy kink, oral (f), rough pent-up sex, making out, flirting, fluff, domestic life, romantic dinner, family vacation, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, mama, baby girl & more ] words: 5k

note: please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

sequel to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist previous chapter { everything I ever wanted }

You heard the soft creak of the bedroom door as it opened and then shut, the sound echoing in the quiet bedroom. Suddenly, a familiar warmth enveloped you as Terry wrapped his arms around you, trying to pull you into an embrace.

You could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, but frustration bubbled up inside you. “Get off of me, Terry!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp and annoyant as you firmly shoved him away.

You shifted towards the head of the bed, separating you from the man you hurt your feelings. Terry stood there, a blend of guilt and despair washing over his features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I-I,” Terry stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush as his eyes roamed your face, searching for a glimmer of understanding.

The remorse in his gaze was sincerity, which struck a deep chord within you. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” He sat on the bed and moved closer, extending a hand as if trying to bridge the emotional depth that had formed between you.

“I’m so grateful to have you; you’re such an incredible wife and an amazing mother to our son.” His voice cracked slightly, laden with the weight of his apology, as he pleaded for you to see the truth in his words.

"No, why would you say you're tired of me? How could you say something like that to me of all people?" you yelled, your voice rising as a flood of emotions engulfed you.

A mix of anger and hurt made your heart race. "Baby, I didn't mean—" Terry started to respond, his voice still remorseful, but you couldn't let him finish.

You cut him off, allowing your pent-up emotions to spill like water gushing from a broken dam.

"Do you even grasp how I've been feeling these past few months?" your voice trembled, each word charged with frustration and hurt. "It feels like I'm carrying the whole load on my shoulders, all alone."

"If you’ve been feeling this, why didn't you communicate that to me? You know I'm not a damn mind reader!” Terry shot back, his tone rising and more urgent.

"So it's my fault again?” you retorted, your frustration boiling. “Why don't you take some accountability for once, Terry? You used to know how to support me or recognize when I was struggling without me having to spell it out for you."

Your words hung in the air, charged with the weight of unspoken expectations and the longing for understanding that felt increasingly out of reach.

Terry took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he faced you directly, the moment's weight heavy between you. “Look, I know I messed up badly,” he began, his voice low and sincere.

“I hurt you, and that’s not right. I should have never said I was tired of you. That was just disrespectful. You deserve so much better than that.”

Terry paused, searching for the right words, his eyes filled with regret. “I see how hard you work every day taking care of our son. You do everything for our family; I have taken that for granted. I haven’t been there like I should have been, allowing my frustrations to cloud my judgment.”

Terry stepped closer, his hands outstretched, palms up. “I got no excuses. What I said was wrong, and I’m ashamed of it. You’ve been carryin’ so much, I’m sorry, for real. I wanna make it right, whatever it takes. I'll support you better, listen more, and be the husband I know I can be.”

As he spoke, you could see the love and remorse etched on his face—deep lines of worry creased his brow. But it was hard for you to process his words fully at that moment.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger decrease slightly. "I hear you, Terry,” you said softly, almost dismissively. “But right now, I just need some space…I think you should sleep on the couch.”

You get off the bed to grab your shower cap, go to the bathroom, and close the door. You hear Terry leave the bedroom, the silence filling the space again.

After your shower, you take your time with your night routine, meticulously applying your skincare products as if the physical act could somehow cleanse the emotional turmoil still swirling inside you.

Each motion rhythm felt almost meditative, yet the weight of the conversation earlier loomed heavily in your mind. You are dressed in a comfortable tank top and pajama shorts, feeling the fabric against your skin, a small comfort amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Finally, you climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, but the emptiness beside you felt overwhelming. The thought of Terry not being close to you despite the hurt made the room quiet.

You wrapped the thick blanket tightly around you, trying to find solace in the familiar fabric, yet you couldn't shake off the need for his presence.

Deep down, you craved the warmth of his body next to yours, the security you felt when he embraced him, even if your heart still stung from his words.

With a shaky sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and decided to seek him out. You padded down the hallway, glancing at the clock—it was already late, and you wondered how long you’d been lost in thought.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the sight of him slumped over on the small loveseat in the living room tugged at your heart. His long frame seemed crammed into the little seat, the edges of the cushions barely accommodating his size.

“Terry…” you called softly, barely rising above a whisper. He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, eyes widening with surprise and a hint of hope.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his voice thick with fatigue. “Um...” you started, crossing your arms over your chest, unsure how to proceed.

The remnants of the hurt and irritation still lingered, yet the sight of his uncomfortable state and weary expression stirred something inside you.

“Come to bed,” you said softly with no expression, and his expression shifted to relief. “Are you sure?” Terry asked, a mixture of cautious optimism laced in his tone.

“Yeah, just…come on,” you replied, trying to sound more convinced than you felt. Terry was always so imposing as he stood up but looked helpless and small.

Without another word, he followed you back upstairs, and the silence between you felt thick. As you entered the bedroom, you climbed back into the bed, the sheets still warm where you had been.

Terry lingered by the door momentarily, hesitation clear on his face. “Are you still upset?” he asked, his voice soft yet heavy with concern. “I am,” you replied, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the situation.

“But I don’t want to sleep alone. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow when we’re both in a better headspace.” You said softly. Terry nodded, understanding and regret evident in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed into bed beside you, leaving a respectful and cautious distance between you. The silence hung between you until it was almost suffocating, but neither knew how to break it.

Instead, you both lay there, staring at the ceiling and pretending to be asleep. Eventually, sleep found its way to you both. The night felt long, but eventually, morning came with the promise of a new day.

As the sun peaked through the curtains, you stirred awake first, feeling the warmth of Terry's body against you, and you glanced over at him; your heart softened just a bit as you watched him breathe softly.

After last night's argument, some of you wanted to stay angry and distant from Terry, but another part just wanted things back to normal. You knew in your heart that you two would work this out somehow.

You turn over, gently reach over, and place your hand on his cheek before returning to sleep. Terry stirred slightly and cracked open an eye if you felt your touch even in his sleep.

Terry softly smiled at your sleepy state, knowing he had to make things right. He reached for his phone, the soft glow illuminating the dim room.

Sitting up, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for a tough day ahead—not at work, but at home. He scrolled through his contacts, dialing in to call your uncle.

“Hey, Uncle Eddie,” he said after a few rings. “I won’t be coming in today…yeah, personal reasons. I need to be home…Okay, thank you.” As he hung up, he glanced over at you, still half-asleep.

Terry slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you. Padding softly to the baby’s room, he gently lifted Elijah from the crib. Cradling him in his arms, he marveled momentarily at how small and innocent his son looked.

“Good morning, little man,” Terry whispered, bouncing Elijah slightly as he went downstairs to the kitchen. He set the little one in the high chair, securing him safely with the straps.

The baby’s sleepy gaze slowly transformed into a wide-eyed curiosity as he watched his daddy move about the kitchen. With Elijah happily sitting in his chair, Terry began preparing breakfast.

Terry rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and fresh fruit. As he cracked the eggs into the skillet, their sizzling brought a sense of calm.

Cooking had always been a form of therapy for him. “Let’s get you some breakfast, too, huh?” he chimed to Elijah as he quickly poured him a bottle.

Terry could hear Elijah's soft noises of delight, making focusing easier. Deep down, he hoped that doing this would show you his sincerity.

After feeding Elijah, Terry made a generous portion of the breakfast for you and himself and set the table. As you wake up to an empty bed, you glance at the time and feel slightly panicked.

However, you hear Terry's voice through the baby monitor, talking to Elijah in the kitchen about you, hoping this would be the start of you forgiving him for your argument last night.

As you got out of bed, rubbed the sleep from your eyes, went to brush your teeth, and washed your face before strolling downstairs towards the kitchen.

The aroma of breakfast wafting through the air, making your stomach rumble. Terry turned as he caught sight of you, a sheepish smile lighting up his face.

“Morning,” he said warmly, his voice brightening the atmosphere. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite,” he added; you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “My favorite?”

“Yeah,” he replied, setting a plate on the table before you. “Eggs, pancakes, bacon, and fresh fruit. I know you usually love a little bit of everything.”

As you sat, Elijah babbled enthusiastically in his high chair, excited to see both of you. You couldn’t help but smile at your son and kiss his forehead. "Good morning, baby boy"

You started to eat, the first few bites eliciting a sense of normalcy you desperately craved. “Thanks for making breakfast, Terry,” you said softly, focusing on Elijah. “It smells amazing.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Terry admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I know.....last night. I hate that we left things unresolved.”

You looked up from your plate, gauging Terry’s expression. His eyes were sincere, mixed with an undercurrent of regret. “Yeah, I appreciate that you’re trying this morning.”

Terry nodded slightly, the weight of his guilt apparent in each motion. “I just want you to know again I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You paused before responding. “I get that, Terry, but when you said that to me...my heart broke, and I thought we were locked on this, I thought-.”

“I know,” he replied, his tone dropping to a more serious level. “It’s just so hard sometimes, balancing everything— Elijah, work, our marriage. I let the stress get the best of me and took it out on you.”

"Well, I think we really need to work on our communication because ever since Elijah was born, I feel like we've lost sight of that strength we've built," you said, your voice filled with realization.

Terry acknowledged the tension in his shoulders, easing just a bit. “You're right. I've noticed it, too. I miss how we used to talk, how we could share anything without worry.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of those words resonating deeply. “Yeah, me too. Remember those late-night talks we used to have? We'd stay up for hours just dreaming about our future, making plans together. Now it feels like we're just trying to survive the day.”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression softening. “I want to go back to that. “We have to find a way to carve out time for us, even if it's just small moments here and there.”

“What do you think that looks like?” you asked, genuinely curious. “How can we make it happen?” you added. Terry took a moment, clearly contemplating.

“Maybe we could set aside a few minutes each night after Elijah goes to bed. We could just talk about our day or even watch something together. Something light and fun.”

“That sounds nice,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “I would love that. But I also think we need to be able to have those conversations when things get tough. It can't all be about being positive; we must address the heavy stuff, too.”

Terry thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You're right. I think it's so easy to avoid conflict, thinking it will just resolve itself. But it won't, will it? We have to face it head-on before resentment builds up.”

“I can be guilty of that too,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the past few months crash over you. “I've been just bottling things up instead of expressing my feelings. It’s easier to keep the peace, even if it eats away at me.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his gaze steady on you. “But I promise to do better. I want to hear what you say, baby, no matter how difficult. I care about your feelings and will be a better husband; I want to be a better husband.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “Thank you, Terry. That means a lot, and you are a good husband and a father. We're in a tough patch, and I'm sure we'll get through. I want you to feel the same way. We need to make this a mutual effort. If I ever say something that bothers you, please don't hesitate to let me know.”

Terry reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “You have my word. And I hope you know I'm committed to strengthening our marriage. There's nothing more important to me than you and Elijah; “I love you, baby.”

"I love you too, Terry." With those words lingering in the air, you both shared a transformative moment of understanding. It wasn't an immediate solution to all your problems, but it was a solid step.

-

The past few weeks have been a turning point for both of you. Communicating openly like you used to, sharing your thoughts and feelings without the weight of tension lingering in the air, had lightened the load on your heart.

As you and Terry cuddled on the couch, the warmth of his body against yours felt comforting. The lamp's soft glow lit the room just enough to create an intimate atmosphere.

You watched Elijah through the baby monitor, sleeping peacefully in his crib. “Wow, you came through, huh?” you said playfully, playing with his ears.

“I feel like I barely had to lift a finger with the housework and Elijah. You got my back like that?” You said with a smile. Terry chuckled, leaning closer to you.

“Well, if I keep you happy, it’s a win-win situation, right?” He pretended to flex his muscles, and you both laughed at the moment's silliness.

“You’re so crazy,” you teased, smirking at him. “But real talk, I appreciate it. I feel like I can finally breathe again. It’s been a minute since we had this together.”

“Right? I missed this, alot, I mean a lot a lot ” Terry expressed, his face turning soft. He brushed his thumb along your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“You know I love you, sweetheart, I wanna see you shine and be happy,” Terry said, and you smiled, feeling a little bashful under his gaze.

“Aww, Terry, I love you too so much. I know I can get caught up in my head often, but having you step up like this? It just makes me feel so much better.”

Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “You keep saying how I stepped up, but it’s us together making it work. You’re the heart of this whole household, baby.”

Terry paused momentarily, still gazing into your eyes, and you could feel the heat rising between you. “We’ve been keeping things going in the house lately, being a team.”

“True, that's how it's supposed to be. And it feels good to be back in sync,” you responded, feeling at ease. “It’s nice to know you’re all in, and I’m all in too.”

With that, Terry leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a slow kiss. It was sweet at first, but gradually, it deepened, both of you melting into the moment as your bodies relaxed against each other.

A playful glint sparkled in his eye when he gently pulled away, hinting at a fun idea. “You know,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

"We should plan a little family getaway. Somewhere we can kick back and truly relax.” He said deeply low. “A vacation?” you replied, raising an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Really?” you asked, and Terry leaned closer, the enthusiasm contagious as he continued. “Yeah! How about we spend a weekend at that villa we used to visit in Cancun?"

"And we could invite your parents to join us. It would be an excellent opportunity to unplug from all the chaos and have fun.” His eyes lit up with the thought, a sparkle mirroring his excitement.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, imagining the warm sands and gentle ocean breezes. “That sounds amazing! I adore that place. It holds so many wonderful memories for us."

"—it’s where it all began. Plus, this would be Elijah's very first vacation! What a special way to introduce him to such a beautiful location.” You gasped.

Terry chuckled softly, “So, you wanna do it?” You nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Let’s do it! I can already envision the memories we can make.”

Cancun, Mexico

The sun hung high in the cerulean sky, casting a warm golden glow over the peaceful Cancun shoreline as the day unfolded—a perfect Sunday morning.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the soft, powdery sand created a soothing rhythm while a refreshing breeze played against your dark-brown skin, carrying the faint scent of salt and beach flowers.

Elijah giggled uncontrollably as he splashed playfully in the sandy oasis around him. Tiny grains of sand stuck to his little fingers and toes, glistening like miniature jewels in the sunlight.

You and your mom were fully immersed in the moment, working together to construct an elaborate sandcastle. Its towers rose proudly, decorated with seashells and bits of seaweed, as you all hoped it could withstand the approaching tide.

“Look at you, Eli! You love the sand, huh?!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling with affection. The moment's joy was captured forever as you snapped a picture of his bright smile, his hazel eyes sparkling with delight.

Elijah's laughter echoed around you, filling the air with pure joy as you and your mom continued to shape the sandcastle. Your dad strolled, still wet from his time on the jet skis, with a broad grin.

“Y’all got some serious skills over here!” he called out, surveying the castle. "That’s lookin’ like a real palace for my grandbaby!" Your mom chuckled, smoothing out a rough edge of the sandcastle.

“A palace fit for a prince! Ain’t he just the cutest?” She looked down at Elijah, who was now trying to pick up a handful of sand and giggling when it slipped through his tiny fingers.

“Right?” you replied, grinning. Your dad squatted beside Elijah, chuckling as the baby reached out toward him, his little hands covered in sand.

“Hey, Eli? Are you makin’ masterpieces over here? You tryna start a sand empire?” He asked. Elijah let out a squeal of delight, and your dad couldn’t help but laugh.

“Aww, look at that smile! He’s sayin’ ‘I got this, grandpa!’” Just then, Terry wandered back from the jet skis, a towel draped around his neck.

“What's going on? Y’all makin’ a sandcastle? I wanna see!” Terry said, leaning down, peering curiously at Elijah. “And there’s my number one fan!”

“Look at him, Terry!” you exclaimed, scooping Elijah into your arms as his face lit up at the sight of his daddy. “He’s ready to take on the beach. He’s got sand in places I didn’t even think was possible!”

Terry laughed, reaching out to tickle Elijah’s belly, causing him to burst out in another fit of giggles. “Man, how did we get so lucky? He’s a whole treasure out here!”

“Right, such a blessing!” your mom chimed in. You looked at the happy scene around you—your parents, your husband, and your precious son—and felt your warm heart swell.

“This is what it’s all about, y’all. Family!” You said softly, and Terry smiled at you sweetly. “That's right!” your dad agreed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“We gotta make the most of these days, y’know? Family, fun, and all this love. Ain’t nothin’ better!” With everyone laughing and loving on Elijah, the sun shone brightly overhead, casting a golden glow over your little beach paradise.

Later.

The afternoon unfolded beautifully as your family gathered around the spacious dining table at the villa, sharing a delightful lunch filled with laughter and stories.

The warm sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow on the cozy living room where everyone eventually settled in. Plush cushions beckoned from the oversized sofas, and the aroma of delicious food lingered in the air.

Your parents, visibly relaxed and content, cherished their time with Elijah, engaging in lighthearted conversations that filled the room with joy and warmth.

Terry leaned over to you, a playful grin on his face. “How about a little adventure?” he whispered, eyeing your parents, who were busily playing their grandson.

“What do you have in mind, handsome man?” you asked, intrigued. Terry glanced toward your mom and dad. "Well, I would you love to take you out for dinner? Just the two of us?”

Your heart raced with excitement. “Really? What about Elijah?”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll ask your parents to watch him, so we can have some time for ourselves.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of a romantic evening.

With every detail, he sparked a thrill in your heart that had been dormant for too long. “Okay, you’ve got a deal!” You said with a smile, you rushed upstairs to freshen up.

You pulled out a multicolored sundress adorned with shapes and designs. You applied some light makeup, focusing on a touch of lip gloss that shimmered in the fading sunlight.

Staring at your reflection, you felt nostalgia and excitement, feeling beautiful and ready for the evening ahead. When you returned to where your parents and Elijah were gathered, your dad raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Wow, look at you, miss thang! Someone’s got a hot date!” He teased, and you laughed. “Just a little dinner with Terry. He has a surprise planned for us.”

"Sounds wonderful! And you two deserve it, sweet pea." Your dad said with a light smile on his face, and your mom clapped her hands together.

“Yeah. We’ll take good care of Elijah. You both go enjoy your night!” Your mom said with a smile, and you nodded, giving Elijah a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You met Terry at the beach's edge, his eyes lighting up as he took in your dress. “You look stunning, baby,” Terry said, taking your hand as you walked together towards the car.

The drive was filled with easy conversation and laughter. As you neared your destination, you noticed a seaside restaurant nestled under twinkling lights, music wafting from within.

“Is this our spot?” you asked, excitement bubbling. “Yup! I figured we could have a nice dinner followed by some dancing,” he said with a wink, holding the door open for you as you stepped out.

Inside, the ambiance was warm and inviting, with flickering candles on the tables and soft music playing in the background. After being seated, you both ordered and sipped on lemonade while discussing anything.

Terry leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you got any plans for when we take over the dance floor, huh?” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr. Smooth! I’m ready to turn this place out.” You twirled strands of hair around your finger, feeling the chemistry between you.

Terry raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh really now? Do you think you can keep up with me? I might spin you so fast you'll forget where you are!”

You laughed, biting your lip playfully as you met his gaze. “Honey, I was born ready! Just wait till I hit you with these hips. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Is that a challenge, baby girl?” Terry asked, feigning shock as he leaned closer. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a warm hug.

“Because if it is… well, I’m here for it.” His voice dipped low, drawing you in. The waiter arrived with your appetizers, but neither of you paid much attention.

Your eyes were locked in a playful duel. “You know I never back down from a challenge,” you replied boldly, lifting your glass in a mock salute before sipping the lemonade.

He watched every move you made with a smile that made your heart flutter. “And that’s exactly why I love ya,” he said softly, his tone turning more sincere.

It felt like old times, just the two of you in each other's company, the laughter ringing like music. After dinner, the music softened, and the atmosphere turned more romantic.

Terry stood, extending his hand to you. “Shall we?” With a smile, you took his hand as he led you to the dance floor, where the soft light danced around you like fireflies on a warm summer night.

As you swayed together, you felt the rhythm of the music seep into your bones. Terry pulled you closer, his hands resting gently on your lower back, confidently guiding you.

The world around you faded, and it was just him and you, lost in this moment. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings that made your heart swell.

“Look at you, movin’ like you own this floor,” Terry murmured, admiration dripping from his voice. “Ain’t nobody can do it like you can, sweetheart.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, a giddy thrill igniting your chest. “Terry,” you replied, biting back a smile as you twirled under his arm, relishing how he effortlessly caught you again.

“You know how to make a girl feel special.” You said, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart sync with yours.

Terry chuckled lowly, tilting your chin up to meet your eyes. “Nah, baby girl, it’s all about you. Every move, every glance— I can’t help but be mesmerized,” he said earnestly.

“You’re my whole world.” His gaze held yours captive; it was intimate and raw, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

“You know what you are doing!” You laughed lightly as your cheeks warmed under his adoration. “Maybe...but I'm just speaking the truth,” he whispers, kissing your lips.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush that sent shivers down your spine. Time seemed to slow as you melted into him, the world around you fading.

You could taste the sweetness of the lemonade mingled with the warmth of his breath, an intoxicating blend that left you craving more.

As the music swelled, so did your passion. Terry deepened the kiss, his hands roaming from your waist to your ass, pulling you closer as if he wanted to erase any space between you.

“Baby,” Terry breathed against your lips, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You gotta know what kinda hold you got on me.”

You laughed softly, feeling emboldened by his affection. “Oh really? Is that right?” You leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his cheek, an invitation that promised more.

“Yeah...hey, I have something else special,” he replied with a playful smirk. His eyes sparkled as he twirled you again, then pulled you back into him, letting the music guide your movements.

“After this amazing dinner, what could you have else planned, Terry?" You asked as your bodies moved harmoniously, hips swaying together like they were made for this dance.

This moment where nothing else mattered. "You'll have to see, come on," he whispered, took your hand, leading you back to the table to settle the bill.

“You ready for this?” he asked, glancing at you with that glint in his eye that always made your heart skip. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go!” you answered, excitement bubbling over.

You stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand. You two were in the car again and eventually made where you two were going. “Terry, where we goin’?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up like champagne, your heart racing as he pulled you along.

“Just trust me, baby,” he said over his shoulder, his smile mischievous and inviting. “I promise it’s somethin’ real special.”

You squeezed his hand, excitement surging through you as he navigated through the small villa. Every step was a tease; every turn held the potential for surprise.

Finally, he stopped in front of an ornate wooden door. He turned to you, letting go of your hand just long enough to pull out a small key from his pocket.

“Now, don't be peekin',” Terry said with a grin as he unlocked it. Your anticipation heightened as the door creaked open, revealing a cozy space bathed in warm golden light.

“Oh wow…” you breathed as you stepped inside, your heart leaping at the sight before you—a smaller villa impeccably decorated with rich crimson roses scattered across the bed and soft candlelight illuminating every corner.

“Surprise!” Terry announced proudly, closing the door behind you both. “I figured we needed a little time on this vacation just for us.” You spun around to face him, unable to contain your joy.

“Terry! This is, this is so beautiful and sweet! You really thought of everything!” You said softly, looking at him happily.

“Aww, you know I had to treat you right, baby. “Ain't nothin' but the best for my queen,” he said, his voice smooth like honey as he stepped closer, closing the space between you two.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, sending shivers down your spine. “Terry, I love you,” you replied with a grin, your heart fluttering like a butterfly in spring.

Terry's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “Oh, baby, I love you too," Terry said, reaching for your waist.

Terry pulled you against him as his lips met yours with an urgent hunger. The kiss ignited a fire within you, deepening as he playfully nibbled on your bottom lip.

“Taste so sweet,” Terry murmured against your mouth before pulling away just enough to gaze intently into your eyes. His hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up slightly to the bed.

“I've been wanting you all night” Terry growled, his breath hot against your skin as he sat you on the bed. The soft sheets beckoned you both as he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at you” Terry teased, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he traced a finger along your jawline. “Got all dressed up and ready for me; now it's time to rip that shit off.”

With that, he started peeling off your dress, bra, and panties like they were the layers of an onion, revealing every inch of your skin to him." fuck baby,” he said appreciatively, feasting his eyes on your body.

“You're so damn stunning.” His voice dropped low, sending shivers through you. “I could get lost in you.” He added. “Oh, Terry…” you breathed out, feeling the heat between you two intensify.

Terry leaned closer, his hands exploring every curve and dip of your body before trailing down to your thighs. “You smell good, too,” he murmured as he kissed down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

“I bet you taste even better.” You could feel the electricity crackling as he moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. “Gonna make you scream my name tonight,” he promised with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Baby, don’t tease me like that,” you replied breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation. His presence was intoxicating, and every moment felt like it was building to something spectacular.

“I ain’t teasin’; I’m just gettin' started,” Terry responded, his voice dripping with a sultry confidence that sent heat racing through your veins.

Terry grinned, eyes glinting as he knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. “Now open up for me, mama,” he commanded softly, the authority in his tone making your heart race even faster.

“I wanna taste that sweet, wet pussy of yours the way you know I can.” He said sensual and you shivered at the intensity of his gaze, feeling wholly exposed yet utterly safe in his presence.

“Terry,” you gasped, your body arching instinctively toward him. Terry smirked as he spread your thighs wider, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With no warning, he dove in hungrily, lips wrapping around your most sensitive spot and sucking gently while his tongue flicked teasingly over you.

The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. "Oh, shit! Terry," you moaned, gripping the sheets as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

“You taste so damn incredible,” Terry growled against you, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through your core. “Like candy…I could spend all night down here.”

His tongue danced expertly, swirling and teasing as he took his time savoring every inch of you. “Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breathy and filled with desperation.

You could feel it building inside you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to burst. “I’m close, baby! Just like that!” You cried out, the words tumbling from your lips as his mouth worked its magic.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Terry growled, deepening his rhythm as he added a finger, sliding it inside you just right. “C’mon, let me feel you.” He watched with satisfaction as your body responded to him, arching and writhing beneath his touch.

“Tell me how good it feels, sweetheart,” Terry demanded, his voice thick with desire. You could barely form words; each syllable was swallowed by the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“It feels… so fucking good, Terry!” you gasped out, your hand finding the back of his head, pulling him closer as if that could draw him deeper into you. “Don’t stop… I need to cum.”

“Then do it for me,” Terry urged, his tongue flicking faster against your sensitive bud while pumping his fingers in and out of you with expert precision. “Let me taste all that sweetness.”

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped. You cried out his name like a prayer, waves of ecstasy washing over you as your body quaked in pleasure.

“Oh ahhh fuck, Terry!” Your voice echoed in the room as you caved to the bliss. He lapped at every sweetness that flowed from you, savoring your release as if it were the finest delicacy.

“Damn, baby! You’re so beautiful when you cum,” Terry said, kissing along your inner thighs. You were panted, barely able to catch your breath.

“That was…” You couldn't get the words out; they were still coming down from your high. “I know, baby girl,” he said, winking at you as he got off the bed to take his clothes off.

Terry climbed back on top of the bed, his muscular arms flexing as he positioned himself between your legs. His eyes locked with yours as he pressed the tip of his big, throbbing dick against your wet pussy.

“Tell me what you want, sexy,” he purred in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want Daddy to make love to his good girl or fuck her senseless?”

You looked into his eyes, the fire igniting a corresponding flame within you. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you growled, the words leaving a wake of desire in their path. “Fuck me 'til I can't walk straight.”

"You got it, baby," he said with a mischievous grin. Terry slammed his dick inside you, filling you to the hilt and setting every nerve ending ablaze.

"Damn, mmmm...you feel so amazing!" His breathing was labored and erratic as he pulled back out slowly before slamming back in even harder.

"Goddamn, yes, Terry! yes, Fuck me like you mean it!" Your words mixed with moans as he relentlessly pounded into you. "Harder, Terry! I want it harder!"

"No problem, babe," he grunted, picking up the pace. Sweat beading on both your brows as your bodies slapped together in carnal rhythm. “I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he said with a moan.

"I know you will, Terry," you moaned. "I know you gonna fuck me senseless."

"You better believe it," he growled, reaching around to roughly squeeze one of your plump breasts, tweaking the hard nipple between his fingers.

"You like that, huh? You like it when Daddy squeezes your tits while he fucks you?"

"Yes! Yes, Daddy, I love it!" you cried out, arching your back to meet him stroke for filthy stroke. "Squeeze them harder, make me cum again!"

Terry obliged, pinching and twisting your nipples as he continued to pound into you mercilessly. Your moans filled the room, bouncing off the walls in a symphony of lust and desire.

"Oh shit, baby, I'm close," Terry grunted, his breath coming in short pants. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna…"

"Cum inside me! Cum deep inside of me and show me how much you love me!" you screamed, your own orgasm building up once more.

"Damn, my nasty girl," Terry groaned before picking up the pace even more. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart. Feels like heaven. fuck I love you.”

As if that were the final push needed, both of you came undone together. Terry roared out his release as he pumped hot thick ropes of cum deep inside you.

"Terry, Terry, Terry" you screamed, chanting his name at the top of your lungs as your body quaked with another mind-shattering orgasm.

Your bodies trembled together as the last waves of pleasure washed over you. Terry collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath.

After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you into his arms. "That was…incredible," you panted, nuzzling into his chest. "You're incredible," Terry murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as your heartbeats slowly returned to normal. You lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow.

[thecranberriesslut]

Californication, Pt. 2

Summary: The second part to my fanfic 'series', you and Joel have a late night meet-cute by the pool and you get frustrated.

Pairing: No-outbreak! Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 'Cara'

Wc: 3k

Warnings: Big age gap, but still very much legal, (Joel is 40-something, referred to as 'old man', reader is 18, referred to as 'little girl'), dirty themes, dirty talk, smut.

Notes: Second part, hope y'all wanted this because I loved writing it, lmk notes in the comments I'm always looking to improve.

As you stood near the pool, close to Joel, towel in hand, goosebumps rising on your skin from the slight breeze that had found you the moment you left the warm water, you were lost in thought. You wondered what Joel's issue with insomnia might be when the faint scent of your own orange and cedarwood perfume drifted into your nose. The one you had bought impulsively at the mall after reading in a June Vogue that it was the perfume to drive men wild. You’d sprayed it on earlier that morning, hoping Joel would find your scent irresistible. The swimming had brought the day-old scent back out, and you found a slight comfort in the warm tones.

“Come on, old man—you can tell me.”

You said matter-of-factly, shifting on the still-warm poolside tiles and squeezing the remaining water from your hair, before your new highlights had a chance to turn green.

“What are you doing up this late anyway?”

Joel asked, leaning in slightly to play with the golden necklace your father had given you for your 16th birthday. His voice was low and smooth, like he was sharing an intimate secret at a crowded party. The only way to describe Joel’s overwhelming aura, which usually dominated any room he entered, was smoke in a jazz club. He always smelled like an old artist who had just enjoyed an expensive vanilla cigar with a side of fancy bourbon. You just wanted to lean in and inhale his scent. You wanted to fall asleep in his arms while he talked about whatever boring old (hot) men always went on about.

“I wasn’t getting all 'worked up' in the kitchen earlier.”

You said, your tone suggesting irritation at his earlier accusations. Of course, you had gotten worked up—you wanted him to have his way with you right then and there. But admitting that would be like admitting defeat, and you were not about to lose to a gorgeous, charming—no, mean old man.

Joel smiled knowingly, which only annoyed you further. He kept teasingly fidgeting with your necklace, and his eyes darkened.

“See now you’re lying all over again.”

“You’re my best friend’s father. You shouldn’t be flirting with me.”

It took every ounce of self-control you had in your sexually frustrated body, but somehow, you managed to step back from Joel, freeing his hand from your necklace.

“Is that so? And the way I saw you rubbing your thighs together in the car earlier when my hand brushed against your thigh… that wasn’t you, getting yourself worked up over your best friend's daddy?”

Your lips parted slightly at his crude observation. It was like he could see right through your little facade. You had always considered yourself somewhat of a mystical creature no one could figure out—but Joel… he read you like a book. It was as if he enjoyed torturing you with his words.

“Is that why you can’t sleep, sweet girl?”

He said, his dark eyes displaying fake sympathy. The pet name felt almost derogatory, rather than cute. The surrounding air seemed to turn into hot smoke, and if you breathed it in, you’d be helpless in its mercy.

“What?”

“Did I get you all turned on, poor girl… and now you can’t sleep with the constant tension between your pretty little thighs?”

You instinctively looked down at your feet, but quickly averted your gaze back to him. You had no idea how to defend yourself—maybe you shouldn’t. Potentially, you should just ask him to fuck you into next year and make it all better.

He took a slow, calculated step closer to you, still maintaining a respectable distance. But for you, it felt like he was already halfway inside you. You weren’t naive. Of course, this whole thing—him flirting with you and making moves on you—was wrong. But you couldn’t help but feel helpless in the attraction you felt for him. It was like you were trapped in a web of your own making, and the only way out was fucking Joel Miller. You were 18, right? If it was legal, how wrong could it be?

“Okay… what if you did?”

You said, suddenly exuding the confidence of a Wall Street businessman who had just made millions. Sure, your confidence was half fake, half pure arousal, but if Joel wanted this, you were going to make him take the plunge.

“Well, in that case, I’m awfully sorry. Must be hard for a petite girl like you to properly satisfy her needs after a big bad man got her all worked up.”

This time, your mouth widened with anger, your eyes shooting daggers through Joel’s. Why was he playing all these games, but not willing to actually do anything about it? You decided to be bold. You were not losing this fight. So, slowly, you brought your hand to your back and loosened your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground with a splotch sound, splashing tiny droplets of water on both you and Joel’s feet.

“Nice. How ‘bout you go to sleep, Alex Owens.”

He said, shaking his head and laughing quietly as he turned to walk away. You were confused, angry, and a little cold. The night had gotten cooler during your little meet-cute.

“Huh?”

You yelled from behind him. He had managed to take a couple of steps but stopped in his tracks. This might’ve been one of his obscure references that no one but other parents ever understood.

"Flashdance?"

He said, as though it were common knowledge and you were the idiot who knew nothing about life. You just shook your head in confusion and narrowed your eyes, covering your breasts with your arms.

“God, you’re young.”

He noted disapprovingly as he made his way inside, disappearing behind the patio door. You were left standing there, dumbfounded and more turned on than you’d felt all day.

That fucking asshole.

Finally, you had gotten yourself inside after thirty minutes of sitting on one of the pool chairs like a depressed insomniac, staring at the dark amethyst night sky with little to no stars in sight. You thought about Joel, yourself, and Sarah. You made up a plan to take a shower, change into a cute outfit, and go confront Joel—tell him that you couldn’t do this, and that he needed to stop making flirty comments toward you. Sure, your relationship with Joel had always been a little inappropriate, but now that you were eighteen, it was all getting too real.

As you turned on the shower, the water was immediately hot. It hit your freezing skin, and the contrast felt a little painful at first, but quickly shifted to heavenly. As you scrubbed your hair to get rid of the chlorine, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel. You imagined the way he might look in the shower—back muscles tensed, strong, rugged arms scrubbing soap over his body. Would he grunt in pleasure as the first hot drops of water hit his toned chest? Despite being in the shower, your thoughts made you feel dirty. You tried to shake them off as you picked out your after-shower attire: floral-patterned Brandy Melville shorts and a plain white top. You decided to spritz on a couple of sprays of that Vogue perfume before applying a light layer of cherry chapstick.

Slowly, you made your way to Joel's bedroom, kind of excited to see what he had in there. Back home, you were never allowed in Joel’s room when visiting Sarah’s house—he always claimed there was important stuff in there, and that you and Sarah would just make a mess of it. So, you were more than curious to discover what lay beneath Joel’s tough exterior. You wanted to know his psyche—what does a man like Joel pack for vacation?

You knocked softly on the door so as not to wake anyone up. Joel heard your knock and made a small, approving sound, so you decided to open the door. There he was, wearing the same gray sweatpants and white T-shirt as before.

“What's up?”

Joel asked, his tone nonchalant, like he wasn’t just flirting with you by the pool. He was sitting on a king-sized bed, the same white sheets as yours and Sarah’s, holding an acoustic guitar. His eyes locked onto yours intensely, like you had just interrupted his playing.

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt… I just wanna talk.”

You said, genuinely regretful for disturbing him. You didn’t wait for an invitation—you just walked into the room, looking around, unsure of what you were even looking for. It looked fairly similar to yours and Sarah’s room—just a little smaller, but with the same white walls, a couple of plants, and a guitar case standing in the corner.

“So talk, Cara.”

He said your name teasingly. You tried to remember what you had come in here to talk about. But seeing him in the faint orange light of a table lamp, his hair falling over his face, and his legs spread as his guitar lay across his lap, your mind went completely blank.

“Are ya sure you didn’t just come in 'ere to stare at my crotch?”

He asked cockily, playing a couple of chords softly on his guitar. It looked effortless, like he was molding it in his hands. You had no idea your corrupted mind could make something as innocent as guitar playing feel sexual.

“Can I try?”

You pointed to the guitar haphazardly, sort of hoping he’d be the responsible adult and say no, ending this game of cat and mouse. You looked into his eyes, and they had grown warmer.

“Sure, sweetheart—just sit on down next to me.”

He smiled as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. You sat down, feeling his body heat radiating onto you. He lifted the guitar from his lap and gently placed it into yours, his hand brushing faintly against your stomach—but to you, it felt electrifying. You placed your hand on the neck of the guitar. It felt big and boxy in your hands, in contrast to how natural it looked in Joel’s.

“Have you ever played before?”

“Uhm… no.”

Joel put his arm around you to guide your fingers into the right spots on the guitar. His hands felt huge and experienced around your smaller ones.

You turned to look at him, his face was perfectly illuminated by the light, the shadows brought out his sharp features and his enigmatic eyes. Out of nowhere, you leaned over and pressed your lips to his, it probably felt uncoordinated and adolescently gentle to him. To your surprise, he kissed you back tenderly, his hand fell from the guitar to your waist and his tongue fought its way into your mouth, like it was fighting for dominance. He tasted like whiskey and a faint note of cigarette smoke. you knew from Sarah, that he only smoked sporadically, when he felt particularly anxious or angsty. He pulled away and looked at you, his intense gaze pierced right through your eyes and into your soul.

“Now, now… bad girl.”

He smiled, while softly scolding you. You lifted the guitar out of your lap and placed it on the floor, you moved closer to Joel on the bed.

“Come on— Joel.”

You whined, making that puppy dog look with your eyes, that got you your new phone last may. You made the bold move of taking Joel's hand and pulling it into your lap, but Joel was quick to pull his hand away.

“I'm not sure what you want, lil' girl.”

He said smugly, staring at you through hooded eyelids. You made a pained face and squirmed in your position on the side of the bed.

“Yes you do. You've been teasing me for so long… come on!”

“What if ya were to ask me real nicely?”

“What, you want me to beg? I'm not begging.”

You turned to face away from him, crossing your arms in irritation, you tried to make it believable, that if he didn't do something, you would leave. But you couldn't leave, it was like Joel had cast a spell on you, and it invaded your every thought with Joel, Joel… Joel. He just kept his unwavering attention on you, observing, annoyingly sure that you would eventually do what he told you to.

“Please…”

You caved. He smiled a devilish smile, but then dropped it, he spoke.

“Please— what?”

“Please have sex with me.”

This was your rock bottom, and he was smiling again, about to say something even more smug and infuriating.

“Please have sex with me, who?”

“Mr.— Miller…?”

You hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to call him.

“Good girl… no.”

You saw red. What the fuck did he mean 'no', he made you beg. He humiliated you, all to say no. You looked at him with wild eyes, like you'd imagine a coyote would look at a hunter who had just killed the coyote's entire family.

“What the fuck, Joel?”

You said, almost yelling. Joel noticed and roughly placed his hand onto your mouth to keep you quiet, you could wake up the whole house.

“Listen, kiddo— I won't fuck ya, it feels way too wrong… but I feel real bad for messin' with you, so I'll take care o' ya.”

You wanted to protest, but his hand on your mouth was stopping you. He gave you a look that said 'calm down', so you took a couple of breaths through your nose and showed him you were calm. He removed his hand, and you opened your mouth to speak, but Joel stood up and his velvety, now a little rougher voice interrupted you.

“Lay on your back and take off your pants.”

You were shocked, shocked at his words, even more shocked at their effect on you. But now your entire brain was turned off, Joel was looming over you, observing your reaction. You slowly slid your shorts off and laid down on the bed anxiously, fidgeting with your top. Joel walked closer slowly, menacingly— like a hungry lion.

“Who knew that inside that naughty girl was a slut who's willin' to follow instructions.”

His words were mean, crude. But his voice felt like the dark hum of a vibrator, it was like only his voice could make you come better than your own hands ever could. Joel put his hand on your ankle, slowly bringing it up your leg. The motion was torturous, you almost wanted to protest, but something inside of you knew that it wasn't a good idea. After a while of ticklish torture, his hand stopped on your upper thigh, inches from the place you needed him the most.

“Are you sure you want this?”

He asked, his voice not so much concerned, as degrading. He was just stalling— he wanted you to feel tortured. You couldn't take it anymore. His hand felt like it was on fire, and you were desperate.

“Yes! Please, Joel.”

“Eager lil' girl, huh?”

He slipped his hand into your panties, it took you by surprise, you almost made a sound, but he noticed right before and brought his other hand to cover up your mouth again.

Is it fucked up that I actually love this serial killer-esque mouth covering thing…?

You thought to yourself, as his middle finger found your most sensitive spot. You figured he was done stalling, because he started to rub increasing in speed circles on your bud, as he stared into your eyes with intensity that was bordering on frightening. Not only that, but you couldn't even focus on his gaze, because you were seeing stars. The whole situation felt oddly grotesque. You whimpered behind his hand, but it effectively blocked all your sounds and all that was left were tiny, pathetic squeaks. He increased the speed of the circles, and you could already feel yourself spilling over the edge. He kept the speed up until your entire body spasmed a couple of times, and you were sure you made a sound that sounded closer to a cat dying than an orgasm. To your surprise, Joel kept his hand drawing slow circles onto your clit as he removed his hand from your mouth. You could do nothing but stare at him, mouth wide open, eyes rolled halfway back into your head.

He stopped his movements and pulled his hand out of your white cotton panties, he smiled at you and narrowed his eyes.

“Now you go to sleep, sweetheart, and I stay up thinkin' 'bout how fast I made your poor little pussy come.”

[blessedbyahuntress]

Warrior of the Sun and Moon

Chapter One: The Blessing of the Sun

Prev/Next

A/N: HEHEHEHEHE (Ya that's all I got [I'm high on caffeine, if you can't tell])

Warnings: Handsome immortal alert! Handsome immortal alert!

Word count: 850

When you were nine, you snuck out of your room for the first time. You’d been ordered to stay in the chamber under the watchful eye of your servant, but you felt jittery and restless.

You needed to get out of the palace, abandon these stone walls for a little while.

The afternoon sun shone through the beautiful stained glass windows as you kept your head down, back pressed against the wall. If what Telemachus had accidentally told you was true… 

There it was. Your hand wrapped around a lever, the metal cold on the palm of your hand. You pulled, a harsh jerk of the wrist. There was a loud scraping sound of stone grinding against stone, and you cursed. Your servant would find you soon if you weren’t fast enough.

You turned, slipping into the secret passage that had opened next to you. 

The darkness that engulfed you made you nervously drum your fingers on your leg, nails skimming over the hunting knife that was hidden in the folds of your dress- the dagger you’d stolen from your older brother the time Telemachus had allowed you into his room.

You swatted away a cobweb that was trying to get entangled in your hair. Your steps became faster, more determined to get out of this awful space.

A breath of fresh air hit you in the face, the wind running its chilly fingers through your locks, tugging at your hair playfully. 

You took another step forward, and suddenly you were falling, sun blinding your eyes as they stretched wide in panic. You landed on your back, all of the breath knocked out of you.

“Holy-”

Someone above you tsks. “Is it really appropriate for such a young lady like you to be cursing?”

You jolt up, banging your head against someone else’s forehead. You lay back down with a groan. “Who the hell are you?”

“You shouldn’t answer a question with a question, princess.”

You cross your arms over your chest, head still pounding. “Mine seems more important,” you argue. “Who are you?”

You feel a hand rest gently on your forehead, and the ache begins to dissipate. 

The person chuckles lightly. “Well,” he said- you figured it was male, though he spoke in more of a sing-song. “Maybe you should open your eyes before asking such things.”

You frown, earning another laugh from the unknown person. Slowly you blink, your eyes adjusting to the light. Standing above you was the tallest man you’d ever seen. He was bathed  with a golden glow, bright blue eyes gazing into your own. A laurel wreath shone atop his head, perfectly tan arms crossed over his muscular chest.

Somehow you knew this was a god, though it wasn’t his appearance that gave him away- rather, it was his presence. 

“Apollo?” You whispered softly, as if you believed if you stirred the air too much, it would scare the god of the sun away. 

The addressed deity threw his head back, a booming laugh escaping his lips. “Yes, that is I, little mortal.” 

You stood, dusting off your dress. As quickly as you rose, you dropped into a grand curtsy. “Lord Apollo, to what do I owe the honour?” 

“You are smarter than you look.” You weren’t sure whether to be proud or offended by his words as he circled you, studying you as a king observes his prize bull. “Tell me, little mortal, how did you know that I am Apollo?”

You tilt your head. “You feel like the sun,” you stated bluntly.

That got him to chuckle again. He paused his pacing to look you in the eye. “I suppose. But I have come to answer your prayer.”

You blinked. “What prayer?”

Apollo furrowed his perfect brow. “What do you mean, ‘what prayer’?” He questioned. “Y’know? That prayer that you sent me when you were two, wishing you could be like your father, the mighty Odysseus?”

“Did I?” You try to remember what he was referring to, but you come up empty. “Sorry, but I don’t think I even knew you existed at such a young age.”

“Ah.” Apollo waves this off. “It doesn’t matter whether you remember it or not, for I am here to make your dreams come true.”

“Uhm,” you said. “No offense, Lord Apollo, but how…” You trailed off as the god held up a golden bow, fitted perfectly for the palms of your hands to grip. 

You reached out to touch it, mesmerized by the curve of the limbs and the string that seemed to change colors in the sunlight. Apollo held it closer, as if urging you to take it. You didn’t need any further encouragement, small fingers wrapping around the weapon. 

As you grasped the bow, a shimmering belt appeared on your waist, a quiver full of arrows attached. You gasped, running your fingers up and down your new accessory. 

When you looked up, mouth opening to speak, you met Apollo’s shining blue eyes. “Thank you,” you murmured, tone filled with emotion and gratitude. 

“Anytime, Y/N,” the immortal said, shooting you a wink as he faded away. 

“Anytime.”

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @shapter-draws @sunshinewhosketches @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @shroombloom248 @my-gods-i-read-too-many-books @keikeiluvyou @tati-the-fangirl @bookmuncherss @sabrina-senpai @artemis-andrea @sunshinedaisy21

[daemonbrain]

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. None'a that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob you call a husband rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[milkoomi]

⋆˚࿔ a new canvas means a new you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a mini series on the art of becoming a better you

previous chapters + masterlist

final chapter — THE ART OF OVERCOMING

i know there’s a lot of us who struggle with anxiety or fear or even the anxiety of experiencing failure. there’s so much in our lives that we worry about, and there’s this feeling of struggle that we have from it that makes it feel like it’s impossible to overcome any hardships we come across. but the truth is: we can overcome the hardships. we can overcome anxiety, fear, stress, failure; everything that life has to throw at us, we can overcome it!

ᥫ᭡. understand your emotions

a lot of those “i can’t do it” moments stem from us not understanding why or how we’re feeling the way we do. it’s important to understand what you’re feeling and reflecting on those emotions or thoughts. when we experience stress or anxiety, our minds are filled to the brim with overwhelming thoughts that are just spinning and mixing around in our heads. that feeling makes it even harder to really think about things logically and to even understand an ounce of what we’re feeling.

let it out.

let out your frustrations, in a healthy manner of course! if you feel like crying, do it! just let it out. even if you’re just brain dumping into your journal, it allows you to spill all the thoughts that are running around in your mind out. release your thoughts and emotions.

take time to reflect.

journaling is an on-going topic within this community on tumblr and on my page, but it’s talked about so much because it’s one of those things that really works and shows actual growth within ourselves! so take the time to write down everything that you’re feeling, let yourself process your emotions that overwhelm you!

consider the “why” when it comes to your emotions.

why are you feeling anxious? why are feeling scared? why are you feeling stressed out? it’s important to figure out why exactly you’re feeling the way you are because without that understanding, it can lead to even more negative thoughts and emotions.

once you understand why, then consider going back to the reflection bit. just take as much time as you need to process your thoughts and feelings!

ᥫ᭡. reassurance

remind yourself that it’s going to be okay! i believe i mentioned this in one of the previous chapters or in one of my other posts, but you have gotten through 100% of all your worst days, so who says you can’t get through one more? you will get through whatever situation it is that you might be going through! it’s so important to give yourself that reassurance.

also, it’s absolutely okay to ask for reassurance from others! being reminded by the people who love and care for you that things are going to be okay can be such a calming feeling. it’s okay to ask for reassurance, we all need it from time to time!

getting this reassurance just puts our minds at ease and, at least in my own experience, it has given me motivation to work through whatever it was that i was dealing with. having reassurance shouldn’t feel burdensome, it should feel relieving!

ᥫ᭡. juno’s rules

i, personally, like to follow a small set of rules when it comes to overcoming something like anxiety about starting a new semester or stress from financial hardships or fears of creating new relationships with people:

rule 1: believe that you can overcome the feeling

there’s a lot of people who manifest, me included, and we see a lot from different posts/sources about manifestation that we have to believe that what we want is already ours. so use that same idea and believe that you can or already have overcome whatever it is you’re going through!

when we put ourselves in that mindset of believing we can’t do it, the more and more we’ll manifest that whatever it is we’re struggling with will only continue to make us struggle. you have to believe that you can overcome the situation/issue/feeling, otherwise those negative thoughts will overpower your want and need to relieve yourself from the stress.

rule 2: have a support system

we can’t always do things on our own, sometimes we need that extra help, and that is okay! i mentioned this earlier, but seriously, asking for help/reassurance is 100% okay. you should ask for help especially when you need it!

your support system could include your family, friends, mentors/teachers, partner(s), and/or a therapist! there are people willing to help you or even just be there for you to lend you their support!

rule 3: take action

when we become overwhelmed by a situation that we know we need to overcome, sometimes we’ll reach a point where we might feel stuck. it’ll sometimes feel like we’ve given up as a whole, and we have to stop having that kind of mindset!

if you’re stressing about an upcoming exam, take action by putting in the work to study and review notes or reach out to your teachers/professors/peers for extra help!

if you’re stressing about talking to a loved one about setting boundaries, take action by writing everything you want to say and gathering all your thoughts together to get your mind situated and more organized!

whatever it is that’s causing you to feel negative emotions like stress, anxiety, or fear, take steps towards relieving that feeling! sometimes taking action may be practicing more self care or changing your lifestyle or even breaking bad habits! whatever it is, you have to be willing to take action and you have to remember who you’re doing this for: yourself.

ᥫ᭡. final notes

it’s important to remember that overcoming something, whatever it may be, is for the betterment of ourselves. i talk a lot about self care on my blog and i will always advocate for that! whatever it is that’s bringing us down or adding a lot of stress in our minds, we have to be able to overcome those obstacles or feelings! getting ourselves to work through challenging situations or difficult emotions is the best form of self care and it allows us to grow even more as individuals! there’s so much strength in putting in the work to overcome something and there’s even more strength we gain from doing so! self improvement and becoming that girl/person can become easier when we learn to overcome what life has to throw at us. life isn’t easy and i know a lot of us can attest to that, but life also has a very special way of showing us what it’s like to live our lives to the fullest.

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Summary: One year on and you're forced to save Remy's life. Sequel to this Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut. (Smut writing isn't as great as I hoped it would have been. Ya girl got tired.)

You shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed this morning.

The regret gnawed at you, sharp and relentless, as you leaned against the cold steel wall of the war room. You’d barely slept last night, but that brief sliver of peace—wrapped in the warmth that was Remy LeBeau—should have been enough to remind you to stay. His arms had been around you, strong and grounding, his hands cupping your breasts as he moved inside you with that unrelenting, intoxicating rhythm only he could manage.

You should have stayed where you could feel his lips grazing your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your ear as he whispered to you.

Mon amour, he had said, his voice a low murmur that vibrated through your chest. Tu es le morceau qui manquait à nos vies. The missing piece of his and Anna’s lives. He’d said it like it was the simplest truth in the world, a fact etched into the fabric of the universe itself. And instead of answering, you froze. A coward, through and through, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his words hung heavy in the air.

You should have replied. Should have turned to face him and said those three words that had been clawing at your throat, begging to be let out. But you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head back and kissed him, pouring everything you couldn’t say into the meeting of your lips. You hoped he’d understand, that the desperate press of your mouth against his would be enough.

But now you were here, standing in this room that felt far colder than it had any right to be, arms crossed over your chest like some futile shield against the storm brewing in your heart. You stayed near the far wall, away from the table where Scott was droning on, his voice a monotone blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to process. Sitting any closer would mean paying attention, and you couldn’t do that. Not when the only thing your mind could focus on was the empty seat next to Anna—the one that should have been occupied by him.

You knew you should be there, sitting beside her, offering whatever comfort you could muster. But even from across the room, you could see it—the rigid tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was set like granite. She hadn’t said a word since stepping off that plane, her movements mechanical and hollow as she approached you.

You’d seen the blood trickling down her forehead, the dirt smeared across her face and arms, and the look in her eyes—a mixture of fury and anguish so raw it made your stomach twist. She’d barely managed to choke out the words. “I tried.” Her voice had cracked, but she forced the rest out. “They took him. I don’t know where he is.”

Her gaze had lingered on you for just a moment, but it felt like forever. Her green eyes, glassy with restrained tears, searched your face, silently pleading for you to say something, anything, to make it better. But you stood there, rooted in place like the idiot you were, unable to find the words she so desperately needed. Her lips parted as though she might say something, but nothing came out, and the unspoken blame in her eyes cut deeper than any words could.

You didn’t know who she was angry at—herself, the team, the world, or maybe even you. Maybe all of the above. The lines of guilt and frustration etched into her features told you as much. But none of it mattered because Remy wasn’t here, and you had no idea how to fix that. Guilt clawed at you, relentless and unforgiving.

You wanted to go to her, to reach out and tell her it wasn’t her fault, that you’d find him and bring him back. But how could you say that when you couldn’t even tell Remy how much he meant to you? The memory of your silence haunted you, weighed you down. You felt paralyzed, the words you should have said to both of them choking you from the inside out.

Still, you had to do something. The ache in her eyes demanded action, even if it was small, even if it was inadequate. So, you did the only thing you could. You led her to your room, a quiet space where she could fall apart if she needed to. You guided her to the bathroom, sat her on the counter, and pulled on a pair of gloves. The stark barrier reminded you of all the other walls between you, but it was necessary—for her, for you, for what you were about to do.

The silence was thick as you began cleaning her wounds. You worked with deliberate care, your gloved fingers ghosting over her skin with a gentleness you hoped she could feel. You dabbed at the blood on her temple, wiped away the grime that clung to her cheeks. The tension in her body slowly eased as she let her eyes close, leaning into the quiet comfort you offered.

Your hand lingered on her cheek, cupping it for just a moment, and that’s when you saw it. A single tear slipped down her face, followed by another. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

God, you hated everything about this. Hated seeing her like this, blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault. Hated knowing that no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t offer her the one thing she needed most—physical comfort. You wanted to kiss her, to press your lips to her tear-streaked cheeks, to her trembling mouth, and make her believe that everything would be okay. But that was impossible.

Instead, you kissed her shoulder, the fabric of her shirt a maddening barrier, kissed the crown of her head where her hair smelled faintly of the battlefield. You hugged her without really touching her, your arms circling her, but your skin never meeting hers. You hated that too. Hated the reality of loving someone like Anna-Marie. A reality where your love could never be fully expressed, never be uncomplicated, never be simple.

You ran the shower for her, adjusting the temperature to just the right warmth, because you didn’t know what else to do. The steady rush of water filled the silence between you as you helped her undress, your gloved hands carefully unfastening her uniform. You turned away as she stepped into the shower, giving her privacy, but it wasn’t just modesty—it was the weight of everything unsaid between you, everything you couldn’t fix.

While Anna stood under the shower spray, you tried to busy yourself, gathering clean clothes for her. The repetitive task was supposed to ground you, to keep you from spiraling, but your hands trembled anyway. The sound of the water drowned out the silence in the room, but it couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest. You felt useless. You couldn’t fix this—not the pain that radiated from Anna in every exhausted breath, not the jagged hole that Remy’s absence had left in both of you.

And worst of all, you couldn’t fix the gnawing fear that Remy might not come back. That somewhere out there, he was hurting—or worse—and you were here, helpless. The thought carved into you like a blade, sharp and relentless. It twisted deeper with every passing second, every moment you weren’t out there looking for him. All you could do was hold everything together, even as the cracks in your own resolve widened, threatening to break you apart entirely.

Loving Remy and Anna had come to you as naturally as breathing. You never had to think about it, never had to question it—it simply was. Even though the words I love you hadn’t left your lips, you hoped they knew. That even in your silence, they were your everything. And you knew, with every fiber of your being, that they loved you just as fiercely.

You knew it before Remy ever said the words. You saw it in the way his eyes lit up when you entered the room, how he looked at you like you were a spark of light in an otherwise dark world. He didn’t have to say it; his actions screamed it louder than any words could. The way his lips lingered on yours during a kiss, the way he would pull you into his lap with that mischievous grin, whispering teasing but affectionate words into your ear.

Anna showed her love differently, but no less passionately. She let you see her in ways she never showed anyone else. She leaned beside you on the kitchen counter during quiet moments, talking softly about things she barely admitted to herself. She trusted you with her vulnerability, her laughter, her tears. You saw it in the way she let you hold her, let you press soft kisses to her head while you both lay entwined on her bed, trading secrets in the dark. And you saw it every time she fastened that cursed collar around her neck—despite the headaches it gave her—just to feel your skin on hers for a few fleeting moments.

It had been a seamless transition. From three close friends to three people completely and irrevocably in love. Nothing and everything had changed. You and Remy still bantered across the room, but now there was heat behind it, a teasing flirtation that left you both grinning like fools. You and Anna still painted each other’s nails and snuck off to town for lunches, but now there were lingering touches, hands brushing and holding as though neither of you wanted to let go.

There was no grand announcement, no dramatic declarations of what you were to each other. But the team noticed the difference. Maybe it was the way Anna’s face softened when you walked into the room, or the way Remy’s fingers absentmindedly stroked your hair while your head rested in his lap after a long day. No one was surprised by the unconventional relationship. They simply accepted it. And more than that, they respected it. Where it had once been Anna and Remy, it was now Anna, Remy, and you.

That was why you stood apart now, away from the group as Scott went over the plan to find Remy. You couldn’t bear the looks they kept giving you. Jean’s soft glances toward you and Anna, the subtle shifts in the room as if they were trying to tiptoe around your emotions, grated on your already raw nerves.

Whether it was pity or sympathy they were offering, you didn’t want it. You hated the idea of being coddled, hated the way their eyes lingered on you like they were waiting for you to break. And you knew Anna hated it too.

You had told her to stay behind, to rest, to recover from her injuries. The words were practical, logical, but they felt hollow even as you said them. You knew they wouldn’t land. The moment they left your mouth, you saw the fire in Anna’s eyes, a raw determination that could have cut through steel. There was no force in the world, not even you, that could stop her from going. The man she loved was out there, and if it came to it, she would burn the entire world to ashes to bring him back.

And you understood that completely. Because the same fire burned in your chest.

The Federation. That’s what they called themselves—a self-proclaimed force of Anti-Mutant mercenaries with a dangerous ideology, an even more dangerous following, and enough firepower to back their hatred. They thrived on fear, weaponizing it, feeding off it like parasites. Their propaganda painted people like you, Anna, and Remy as threats to humanity. Monsters.

They wanted to make you the enemy.

And you were ready to prove them right.

The anger simmered inside you, bubbling hotter with each passing moment. Sitting with Anna in the mess hall, the silence between you both had only amplified the fury. Watching her struggle to keep it together, her fingers twitching as if itching to grab something—anything—to fight with, fueled your own fire.

And then came the war room. The sterile, suffocating space where Scott laid out his careful plans. His voice was steady, controlled, assigning each of you your role in the larger operation. He talked about contingencies, about minimizing risk and keeping the team safe. His words were rational, precise, but they barely registered in your mind. You sat there, every muscle in your body coiled tight, your fingers digging into your arms as you forced yourself to stay quiet.

Because if you were being honest, plan or no plan, it didn’t matter.

You were bringing Remy LeBeau home.

Whether they liked it or not.

The thought of Remy in their hands was enough to make your chest ache and your vision blur with rage. He wasn’t just anyone—he was one of the only two people in the world who had ever made you feel like you mattered. Remy loved you wholly and unconditionally, despite knowing all the broken parts of you. Despite the walls you’d built around yourself, the mistakes you carried, the silences you often fell into.

You remembered the way he looked at you, his crimson eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else. The way his lips would curve into that infuriating smirk, his voice dripping with charm when he teased you—but there was always a sincerity behind it. He saw you. All of you. And he still chose you.

He was the first person who taught you that being loved didn’t mean being judged. That love could be light and warmth, not a weight or a burden. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

And now he was out there, with those bastards who thought they could take him from you.

Your fists clenched at your sides, your anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. You could feel it, the fire in your veins, the storm building in your chest. They thought they could take him—your Remy. They thought they could make you powerless, that they could strip away the only good things you had in your life.

They were wrong.

You weren’t just going to bring him home. You were going to make them regret ever touching him. They thought they could fear mutants? They hadn’t even begun to understand what fear was. You were going to bring that group to their knees, tear apart everything they’d built, and make sure they never forgot the name of the one who destroyed them.

<><><><><><><><><> The hangar was cold, the hum of the jet engines faint in the background as the team moved with quiet efficiency. You and Anna sat off to the side, sharing a rare moment of stillness amidst the chaos. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast stark shadows on her face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes.

“He’s coming home,” Anna said softly, her voice a fragile promise as she leaned against the crate opposite you. Her arms were crossed tightly, her fingers digging into her sleeves as if holding herself together.

You didn’t look up immediately, focused instead on lacing your boots. The tension in your shoulders betrayed you, but you forced a smirk onto your face, stomping your foot on the ground as you finished one boot and pulled the other onto your foot.

“He doesn’t really get a choice, does he?” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you tightened the laces. “And when he gets back, I swear to God, he better go to that bakery and get us those muffins—”

“The ones with the white chocolate in them?” Anna interrupted, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nodded enthusiastically. “God, yes. They’re so good.”

She chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Anna knew exactly what you were doing. She could see it in the way your hands moved a little too quickly, in the way your voice carried that forced lightness. You were trying to stop your mind from spinning, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. The what ifs clawed at you, and she knew because they were doing the same to her.

What if he wasn’t okay? What if you couldn’t get to him in time? What if he wasn’t there at all? What if…

The questions swirled in her head, threatening to pull her under. But she wasn’t about to let them show, not when she could see you doing everything in your power to keep her grounded.

Usually, before a mission, the three of you were inseparable. Remy always had a way of grounding you and Anna, his presence as steady as it was electric. He’d be there, leaning lazily against a wall or a table, shuffling his ever-present deck of cards with that infuriatingly smooth smirk plastered across his face. His accent dripped with charm as he delivered some teasing remark meant to cut through the pre-mission tension.

“You two scared yet? ‘Cause I ain’t carryin’ y’all outta there if you freeze up.”

Anna would roll her eyes at him, but the corner of her mouth would twitch in amusement. You, of course, would take the bait, firing back with a playful jab. The banter would flow easily from there, each jab met with another, until Anna finally intervened. “You two done? Or should I just leave y’all here to fight it out?” she’d say with mock exasperation.

By the time the three of you boarded the jet, the tension would be gone, replaced by laughter and camaraderie. That rhythm—so familiar, so comforting—was what held everything together. It was what made you believe that no matter what, you’d all make it back.

But this time was different.

This time, the mission had come, and you weren’t going to be there. Instead, as Remy prepared to board the jet, he’d turned to you. His eyes, crimson and burning with something deeper than just love, met yours as he pulled you into a kiss that was anything but casual. His hands had tangled in your hair, holding you close like he was afraid to let go.

When he finally did, he didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, and in that silence, everything was said.

Then you’d turned to Anna. Her green eyes had met yours, filled with worry and a quiet kind of understanding. You’d taken her gloved hands in yours, pressing a kiss to each palm as if sealing a promise in the gesture. “Keep him safe,” you’d whispered, your voice breaking just slightly.

She’d nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You felt the way her arms wrapped around you, the way her grip lingered, as if drawing strength from you. But you both knew the truth—you were just as scared as she was.

On the jet, Remy had tried. He really had. His voice had carried the same cocky lilt, and he’d tossed a few half-hearted jokes in Anna’s direction.

“Y’know, chérie, this jet’d be a lot prettier if it came with drinks. What’s a Cajun gotta do for a little hospitality, huh?”

She’d managed a faint smile, but it didn’t last. The usual spark of their banter wasn’t there, dulled by the space where you should have been.

Anna stared out the jet window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She couldn’t shake the hollowness inside her. It wasn’t just the worry gnawing at her—though it was relentless—but the absence of you. Usually, she’d glance to her left or right and find you there, a quiet source of comfort. Without you, the cabin felt colder, the walls closer, the silence oppressive.

For Remy, the emptiness hit differently. He’d crack a joke and pause, waiting for your inevitable retort, but the space remained filled only with static. His hands moved restlessly, shuffling his cards, flipping one over now and then, but even that felt hollow. You weren’t there to roll your eyes and mutter about him being a show-off. The weight of your absence was palpable, a silent ache that filled every glance Anna exchanged with Remy on the jet. There had always been an unspoken rhythm between the three of you—a perfect balance that grounded her even in the most chaotic moments. Without you, the balance was shattered, leaving her feeling adrift, as though she were stepping into the unknown with no tether to guide her.

Now, as you finished tying your boots, Anna watched you rise and walk toward her. She leaned against the wall of the hangar, arms crossed in what looked like casual defiance, but inside, she was barely holding herself together. Her green eyes studied you as you approached, the faint clink of your boots on the metal floor the only sound in the cavernous space.

“He owes us so hard for this,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tried to inject some levity into the moment. Your tone was teasing, warm, the kind of tone you always used to cut through the tension.

Anna didn’t respond right away. Instead, her gaze lingered on your face, her sharp eyes tracing every detail. She saw how tightly your jaw was set, the way your shoulders squared as if you were bracing yourself against the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. Your hands flexed and curled at your sides, fingers twitching as if desperate for something to hold on to.

She knew what you were doing. She knew you were pushing your own fear and anger deep down, trying to lock it away so you could be strong for her. You were always like that—always putting others first, even when it cost you. And it nearly broke her heart.

Anna loved you for that. She loved you for so much more. She loved you for the way you made her feel safe when nothing else did. For the way you always knew when to tease her out of a bad mood or when to just sit quietly beside her, offering nothing but your presence. She loved the small moments: the way you brought her coffee exactly how she liked it without asking, the way your fingers would brush hers when passing a tool during a repair job, the way you looked at her like she was the most important person in the room.

She loved you for the nights when the three of you would lie tangled together, sharing whispered secrets and stolen kisses in the dark. For the way you’d press your lips to her gloved hands, the affection in your eyes saying everything the words couldn’t. For the way you never once flinched at her touch, even when she couldn’t promise it wouldn’t hurt.

Anna straightened as you stopped in front of her, her expression softening. She stepped closer, her boots scraping faintly against the floor as she closed the distance between you. “We’re getting him back,” she said, her voice low but steady, laced with the same fiery determination that burned in her chest.

You nodded, your own resolve mirrored in your expression. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, locked in a silent agreement. No matter what it took, no matter how far you had to go, you were bringing Remy home.

Anna’s fingers twitched as though she wanted to reach for you, to take your hand and let you feel the strength she was drawing from you. She didn’t move, though; she didn’t need to. She could see it in the way you stood tall, the way your eyes burned with quiet fury.

And beneath that fury, she saw the same love she felt—the unyielding, all-consuming love that would carry the two of you through whatever came next.

If the Federation thought they could take Remy without consequence, they were about to learn just how wrong they were.

<><><><><><><><><><> The chaos of the fight unfolded around her, but Anna’s focus was unshakable—her attention locked on you as you moved through the fray. It wasn’t just the sheer power you wielded that struck her; it was the fury radiating off you like a storm unleashed. That raw, unbridled rage wasn’t something Anna had seen in you before. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Your hands glowed with energy as you fought, that crackling light arcing through the air and coiling around the necks of the armed mercenaries. It wasn’t wild or uncontrolled; it was precise, a deadly extension of your will. You pulled them down one by one, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds that reverberated through the hangar.

“Enough!” Scott’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip, sharp and commanding. He’d already pulled you up on it once, and now he was barking at you again. “We’re here to bring Remy home, not kill everyone in sight!”

But Anna saw the way you barely spared him a glance, your focus razor-sharp as you took out the next threat. This wasn’t blind rage. No, you weren’t reckless—recklessness implied carelessness, and nothing about your movements was careless. You were calculated, every strike deliberate, every motion planned with precision.

Anna watched as you moved through the chaos, like the eye of a hurricane: calm, focused, and devastatingly effective. Your energy wasn’t wild; it was controlled devastation, and it was clear you knew exactly what you were doing, even if no one else could see it.

And Anna never once made the move to stop you.

Because she knew you were right. These people—the Federation—they weren’t just an enemy. They were a plague, hunting mutants like animals, killing without remorse, and spreading fear wherever they went. They weren’t going to stop. Not unless someone stopped them first.

Side by side, you and Anna fought as you always had. There was a rhythm to the way the two of you moved together, an unspoken understanding that needed no words. She would strike high, and you would go low. You’d create openings with your energy blasts, and she’d capitalize on them with a devastating punch or kick.

But this time, the stakes were so much higher. This wasn’t just a fight for survival or a mission to save innocents. This was personal. This was about bringing Remy home.

Anna could feel the weight of that urgency in every punch she threw, every blow she blocked. She felt it in the way her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming hard and fast as she pushed herself to the limit. She felt it in the burn of her muscles and the sting of a cut on her arm she barely registered.

Anna couldn’t take her eyes off you as you moved ahead of her, your energy burning so brightly it seemed to light the dim corridor. Every step you took, every movement of your body, radiated an intensity she had never quite seen before. This wasn’t the same woman who had kissed her palms with a tenderness that made her heart race or traced soft circles on her back during quiet moments. That gentleness was there somewhere, buried beneath the layers of fury and focus, but right now, you were someone else entirely.

You were a force of nature.

“Behind you!” Anna’s voice rang out as her gloved hand shot forward, grabbing a nearby mercenary and slamming him into the wall. But even as she moved, she saw you react with lightning speed. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t hesitate. Your energy surged, wrapping around the man who had crept up on you, and with a sharp motion, you yanked him to the ground.

For a fleeting second, your eyes met hers. And in that moment, Anna saw everything you were holding inside—the rage that burned hotter than your energy, the desperation clawing at your chest, and the iron determination that told her there was no force on this planet strong enough to stop you.

This wasn’t just about strategy or duty. This was war.

Side by side, the two of you moved down the corridor with unrelenting purpose. The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of distant alarms and the occasional shout of mercenaries echoing around you. Anna watched your jaw, tight and set, and felt her chest tighten. This wasn’t the version of you she was used to—the one who always had a dry, sarcastic remark ready to cut through the tension, the one who could make her laugh even in the darkest moments.

Now, there was no smirk, no humor. Just silence and a storm brewing inside you.

Before she could call out, you surged ahead, spotting a group of mercenaries with their backs turned. Anna barely had time to register what was happening before you launched yourself forward with deadly precision. Your legs wrapped around the shoulders of one of them, twisting his body with such force that he crumpled to the ground in seconds. The dull thud of his head hitting the concrete was quickly followed by another, as you used his fallen body as leverage to take down the second man.

Anna moved to join you, but by the time she reached your side, you had already dispatched two more. One went down with an energy blast that slammed him into the wall, the other crumpled under a brutal punch that left him unconscious on the ground.

You turned to her, your eyes sharp and focused, and held up a small device that beeped faintly in your hand. “Through here,” you said simply, your voice devoid of the usual warmth or levity she was used to.

Anna felt a pang in her chest as she nodded, following you to the door. She watched the way your shoulders were taut, the way you barely seemed to breathe, like you were holding everything inside, keeping it locked away until you could unleash it on the people who had taken Remy.

This wasn’t just a rescue for you. It wasn’t just about bringing him home. It was about proving something—to them, to yourself. And as much as it pained Anna to see this side of you, she understood it. Because she felt the same fire burning in her own chest.

She reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder as you worked on the lock, her voice quiet but firm. “You need to breathe. He’s going to be okay,” You glanced back at Anna, just for a fleeting second, and in that instant, she saw the smallest flicker of the woman she loved—the one who could make her laugh even in the darkest of times, the one who would touch her face with the kind of tenderness that always made Anna’s heart stutter. But it was gone before she could even fully appreciate it. In its place, the woman standing before her was someone different. You were cold, unrelenting, eyes locked onto the task ahead with a focus that couldn’t be broken by anything. You were a storm, and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Anna shook off the tug in her chest and pressed forward. She could only hope that when this was all over, she would find that softer side of you again. But she couldn’t afford to focus on that now. Remy needed her. And so did you.

When she finally found him, the sight of him nearly stopped her in her tracks. Remy was leaning against the far wall, his head tilted back in exhaustion. His usually tousled hair was matted with sweat, some strands clinging to his pale face, his once-bright eyes dimmed by pain and exhaustion. The moment his gaze fell on her, something in his eyes shifted—a mix of relief, disbelief, and something else, something that made her heart squeeze. He looked at her like she was a vision, like she was the answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared to voice aloud.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a pained, crooked smile, the expression weak but genuine. “It’s damn good t’ see you,” he breathed out, voice hoarse, every word sounding like a struggle.

Anna didn’t hesitate. She quickly crossed the space between them, her hands finding his face, cupping it gently as if she were afraid he might shatter under her touch. Her fingers traced over the roughness of his skin, the warmth of his body, reassuring herself that he was really here, that he was still breathing.

“How badly are you hurt?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly as she forced herself to focus, to keep it together for him.

Remy’s gaze wandered briefly, as though searching for the right words. He motioned weakly to his side, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. “Few broken ribs maybe? Pretty good shape considerin’.” He said it easily, but Anna saw the way his body flinched with each breath. She could tell that he wasn’t just trying to downplay the pain; he had already been through hell, and now that he was in her arms, the adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving him vulnerable, exhausted.

But what bothered her more than his injuries was the way his eyes kept flicking around, searching, almost as if he was waiting for someone else. As if he was waiting for you.

Anna’s stomach tightened at the realization.

She gently lifted his shirt, revealing the dark bruises and deep cuts that marred his chest and abdomen. Her heart clenched at the sight of him like this, barely conscious, struggling just to stay awake. The wounds were severe, but it was the sight of him—pale, disoriented, and too still—that made her feel the weight of their situation. She could feel the question in his eyes, the unspoken need for reassurance. He wanted to know where you were. She could see it in the way his gaze darted toward the door. He needed to know if you were okay.

“She’s covering me while I get you out,” Anna explained, her voice tight but steady. “The others are holding the line until we get you out of here.”

She looked down at her hands, blood staining her gloves as she traced her fingers over the bloodstained fabric of his shirt. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, already searching for the source of the fresh crimson stains that marked his body.

Remy shrugged weakly, a grimace crossing his face as his eyes dulled with exhaustion. “No idea. Can’ really feel much righ’ now,” he admitted. “Dey gave me somethin’. I can’t… I can’t charge anythin’. I can’t feel anythin’.”

Anna’s heart ached at the way he said it—like a part of him was already resigned to the fact that he was barely hanging on. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, trying to offer him some semblance of comfort, though she knew there was little she could do to make him feel better. She needed to stay focused, though. Remy wasn’t the only one with wounds.

“I just need to find a key to get you out of these cuffs,” she said, voice soft but firm, as she scanned the room for the keys or anything she could use to free him.

Before she could continue, a voice broke through the tension, low and heavy with a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

“These what you’re looking for?”

Anna’s head snapped up just as you poked your head through the door, your eyes locking with hers. Your face was covered in droplets of blood, some of it yours, some of it from the mercenaries you’d already taken down. You looked… different. The usual calm composure was gone, replaced by something raw and fierce in your eyes. There was a weight to your gaze, an ache that spoke volumes.

You held out a bundle of keys, your hand steady despite the chaos that had unfolded around you. Without waiting for a response, you tossed the keys to her, the metal clinking as they landed in her hand. Anna’s gaze briefly flickered to you before quickly shifting back to Remy, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the enormity of the moment.

She could see the strain in your eyes—the need to step forward, to be there for him, to touch him, kiss him, to make sure he was alive and whole. But you didn’t move. Instead, your eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on Remy, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You look like shit, Cajun,” you said, your voice filled with a mixture of sarcasm and something else, something that only they knew.

In that moment, Anna felt something shift inside her. The tension that had been clinging to her chest, the fear, the worry that had been building up since they first laid eyes on each other again—slowly, steadily, began to dissolve. It wasn’t a sudden change, but a subtle release, like the tension easing from her shoulders after months of carrying a burden too heavy to bear.

She’d known that Remy was in trouble, had known the risks from the moment they walked into this hellhole, but hearing the two of you banter, hearing the familiar back-and-forth of you and Remy, it was like hearing a piece of her old world snap back into place. Despite the blood, despite the bruises, despite the wreckage of their bodies and minds, this—this was the two of you. This was the rhythm that she had been missing, the small, ridiculous jokes, the playful teasing, the love wrapped in sarcasm and gruff tones.

It was as if the very essence of who you were had come alive again. Anna saw it in the way you couldn’t resist sparring with Remy, even though every movement made your body scream in pain. She saw it in the way your voice wavered with the faintest trace of your old humor. The love, the tenderness, the connection that had always tied the three of you together—it was there, flickering to life like a spark igniting in the darkest of nights.

Remy’s smile was weak, but it was there, and it was all Anna needed to see to know that, despite everything, there was hope. She couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling just a little at the sound of you two slipping back into your familiar banter.

"Comin’ from you mon amour?" Remy shot back at you, that small grin curling at the corner of his lips, the fire in his eyes sparking to life, even if it was just a flicker.

You turned to her, and that soft humor was still lingering in your expression. “Need a hand getting him up?”

Remy scoffed, trying to sit up straighter, but Anna could see the effort it took. His body wasn’t cooperating the way his bravado was. “I can walk,” he insisted, though it was clear to anyone in the room that walking wasn’t exactly an option.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression a perfect mix of dry sarcasm and affection. “You look like you went four rounds with Captain America,” you said, your voice flat, but there was an underlying warmth to it that Anna could feel, even from where she stood.

Despite everything, despite the pain you were hiding behind the sharp edges of your words, there was still something good in you, something familiar that made her feel like she could breathe again. For a moment, just a moment, Anna forgot about the chaos outside, the soldiers closing in. All that mattered was the relief of hearing the two of you, together, joking like it was just another mission, just another fight.

But then there was a sound outside the room—a faint shuffle of boots, a quiet murmur of voices. The tension returned to Anna’s chest, the weight of time crashing back in. The sound was enough to snap her back into reality.

You heard it too, and your eyes darted toward the door. There was a split second of quiet, a silent exchange between the two of you. And then, with a quick glance toward Anna and Remy, your face hardened, the playful glint fading from your eyes.

“Times up,” you said, your voice low but steady, your hand tightening around the doorframe as if ready to spring into action. “You gotta go. I can hold them off but make it fast.” There was no hesitation in your voice, no second of doubt in your decision. The moment the words left your mouth, you were already moving, the weight of the mission falling into place as if it were just another objective on your mental checklist. You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need anyone’s approval or support. You had a job to do, and nothing—nothing—was going to stop you from completing it. Without looking back at Anna or Remy, you stepped into the chaos, into the fire, prepared to face whatever came next as though it was just another day in the field.

Anna watched you, and for a brief, painful moment, she felt that all-too-familiar tangle of emotions stir inside her. Admiration. Frustration. Worry. You were always like this, never allowing yourself to be vulnerable, always the one who carried the weight of the world, putting everyone else before yourself. She had seen it so many times before, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t just a mission. It wasn’t just another fight. It was Remy. It was you.

She turned back to Remy, pushing the worry aside as best as she could. She couldn’t let it take over now, not when he needed her. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the keys, sorting through them quickly, her fingers fumbling as she tried to find the right one. She slid one in, but it didn’t work. She cursed softly under her breath, trying again. She didn’t know if it was the pressure of the situation or just her mind racing, but it felt like every second counted.

“She's doing that thing,” Anna muttered to herself, frustration threading through her words. She tried another key. “You know, the one where she pushes down everything she’s feeling because she’s trying to be the strong one for everyone else?”

She could hear Remy’s soft, raspy chuckle as he shifted beside her. Despite everything, despite how broken and bruised he was, he still found a way to smile. “Yeah. I know it well,” he breathed, his voice low, strained, but full of affection. “She’s always been like dat.”

Anna didn’t respond right away, focused on the task at hand, but she couldn’t help the tiny, soft smile that tugged at her lips. “Even since we got here,” she continued, her fingers trying a different key, “There wasn’t a thing that was gonna stop her from getting to you. Not the Federation, not the damn walls, not even... well, not even herself.”

She paused for a split second, surprised at the truth of the words coming out of her mouth. Her breath caught as the key clicked, the cuffs falling open with a satisfying click that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart beating louder in her chest as she helped Remy sit up.

He grinned, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face as he looked up at Anna. “Dat’s my girl,” he said softly, the admiration clear in his voice despite the pain that dulled his words. His gaze softened as he looked around the room, the chaos of the mission fading into the background for a moment as he took in the sight of her. “You and her. The two of you.”

Anna looked at him, and for a moment, she saw more than just the warrior Remy had become. She saw the same man who, months ago, had made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe, the same man who always tried to make the world feel just a little less heavy, even in the darkest of times. Her heart swelled, and she reached out, slipping her arm around him to help him rise.

As she pulled him up, she couldn’t help but smile, the weight of everything still lingering, but softened by his presence, by the comfort of knowing that they had each other.

“She’s our girl,” Anna corrected, her voice low but filled with affection.

Remy chuckled softly, wincing as he shifted. “Yeah, our pain in da ass,” he added, the hint of his old humor returning. There was something comforting in the way he spoke, something that made Anna’s heart feel just a little lighter, despite everything they had gone through.

She gave him a knowing look as she helped him move, guiding him carefully toward the door. “You’re right about that,” she said, her voice steady but tender as she helped him toward safety, her thoughts flickering briefly to you. You were out there, fighting alone, but for once, Anna knew—knew—that you weren’t alone in your heart. Not really. You had them. And they had you.

<><><><><><><><><><><> Remy watched you, bemused, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as you moved about the bedroom, gathering the laundry on the floor. You were wearing nothing but a large, loose shirt that hung just above your mid-thigh, your hair pushed back from your face in a casual, effortless way. The soft light from the bedside lamp bathed you in a warm, golden glow, casting delicate shadows that accentuated the lines of your face. Remy couldn’t help but stare, a mix of admiration and love swirling in his chest as he took you in.

God, you were beautiful. Even after everything, you were still the most captivating person he had ever laid eyes on. He had never been one for sentimentality, but in this moment, with you moving around him so quietly, so cautiously, it all felt overwhelming.

You were trying to keep your distance. He could see it. Anna had mentioned it to him on the way back, the way you had stayed on the far side of the jet, the way you’d barely looked at him since the moment he’d come out of that hellish ordeal. He knew what it was—he saw it in the way you moved, the way your eyes kept flicking nervously to his, as if afraid of getting too close, too vulnerable. You were worried about him. More than that, you were scared, and you didn’t know how to show it without losing yourself in the emotion.

“Ya gotta stop fussin,” Remy finally said, his voice low but warm, an easy smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. You turned to look at him, pausing just for a moment before you went back to gathering the clothes from the floor. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words.

“I’m not fussing,” you shot back, your tone a little sharper than you intended. “If I was fussing, you’d know about it.”

Remy studied you for a moment, watching your back as you worked, knowing there was more beneath the surface. He said nothing, simply observing, until his gaze softened, his voice quieter now. “Cher, ya ain’t even looked at me since we boarded dat jet.” His words landed heavy between you, his eyes never leaving you as he saw the subtle shift in your body language. You froze, a tightness in your jaw as you clenched it. You swallowed hard.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed?” he added, quieter, a raw honesty in his voice now.

The air around you seemed to thicken, and you couldn’t quite look at him. Your breath caught in your throat as you worked to keep your composure. It was as though every word you had been holding back for days was now starting to surface, unwilling to stay hidden any longer.

The room felt small, the weight of everything pressing in on you. You could feel the ache in your chest, the growing knot that had been building since the moment he’d been pulled from the wreckage. You turned toward him slowly, finally meeting his gaze. Your heart clenched as you saw him—the man you loved, the man who was still here, still alive. But the thought of losing him...

“I almost lost you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words scraping against the lump in your throat. Your chest ached as your eyes traced the lines of him, from the sharp muscles in his chest, to his arms, his jawline, and then his eyes—his eyes that looked at you with nothing but devotion.

The intensity in his gaze broke you.

“I almost lost you,” you repeated, taking a shaky breath as your voice cracked. “And I never told you that I loved you. I never told you.” You swallowed again, the words burning in your throat. “You told me, and I... I didn’t say it back. I was so damn scared, and I didn’t say it back. And now, I...” Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what you almost lost, the rawness of the truth.

Remy’s expression softened, his eyes glimmering with understanding as he watched you, his heart aching for you. He shook his head gently, his smirk reappearing, but there was something else in his eyes now—something warm, something that reached deep into your soul. “You never needed t’ say it back, mon cœur,” he murmured, his voice steady but full of affection. “I know. And so does Anna.” He held out his hand, waiting, patient as ever, for you to take it.

You met his gaze, searching his face as you slowly reached for his hand. His fingers curled around yours with ease, drawing you toward him. He guided you gently until you were sitting on his lap, your legs straddling his, facing him. He was warm beneath you, steady, and you could feel the strength of his presence, even as he rested his hands on your thighs. His touch was tender, but there was an intensity to it that sent shivers down your spine.

He pushed your hair away from your face, his eyes studying you as though memorizing every detail of your face. “All I could think about,” he murmured softly, his voice raw, “was you. Was Anna.” He gave a small, knowing smile. “All the things da three of us never did.”

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, unable to hide the warmth spreading through your chest as you looked down at him. You laughed softly, but your heart felt lighter, the weight of your earlier fears slowly lifting.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words finally flowing from your lips without the restraint you’d held them with before. “And I’m sorry it took you almost dying for me to say it.”

Remy’s eyes softened as he looked up at you, his expression a perfect blend of love and understanding. He leaned forward, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “Better late den never, non?” he teased.

The moment Remy's lips met yours, everything else fell away. It was as if the world stopped turning for just a second. You poured every ounce of emotion—relief, love, longing—into that kiss, the one that had been building between you for what felt like an eternity. His lips were warm, insistent, and soft, but the way he deepened the kiss told you everything. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his fingertips pressing against the delicate skin there with a familiarity that was both comforting and electrifying. His tongue brushed against yours, slow and deliberate at first, before the kiss became more urgent, more heated, as if both of you were trying to make up for all the time lost, all the fears you had carried without speaking them. The taste of him, the feel of him, was intoxicating, and for those few moments, it was just the two of you—no past, no future, just now.

The kiss was everything. It was love in its most raw, unguarded form. You felt like you could lose yourself in it and never look back. You melted into his touch, into his warmth, and you were convinced that if the world ended in this moment, you would die happy, knowing you had this—him—here with you.

But then, a soft sound broke through the haze of your thoughts—the unmistakable creak of the door opening. You reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air, your chest heaving as you turned to see Anna stepping into the room.

She stood in the doorway, a small, affectionate smile playing on her lips as she surveyed the scene in front of her. You were still seated in Remy’s lap, your hands intertwined, your faces flushed from the intensity of the moment. Anna's eyes softened, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

“So, I’m assuming we’re all staying in here tonight then?” she said with a soft laugh, her voice laced with amusement as she stepped forward. Her hand placed a metal box on the bedside table with a quiet clink.

You and Remy exchanged a glance before your attention turned to the box. The three of you knew exactly what was inside—something that allowed Anna to suppress her abilities just enough to be able to touch you, to feel you in a way that was impossible when she wasn’t wearing it. You hadn’t realized how much you craved that physical closeness until Anna had started wearing it more often.

“Honestly, I’m fine going back to my own room. He snores anyway,” you teased, half-heartedly trying to swing your leg off Remy’s lap. But before you could move, Remy’s hands pressed gently on your thighs, guiding you back down into position, keeping you close to him. He didn’t say anything, but the way his hands caressed your skin made it clear that he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Apparently, I’m staying in here tonight again. This is becoming a habit.”

Remy’s fingers traced small circles on your legs, as though to reassure you that there was no hurry, no need to rush. He was content, his body relaxed under your touch.

Anna grinned at the exchange, her eyes softening as she came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, good. It feels wrong when you're not in here with us," she said quietly, her tone gentle and sincere.

You felt a flicker of unease in your chest. It was a fleeting moment, but it made your stomach tighten uncomfortably. Anna and Remy had always shared this space. You could see it in the way their belongings were scattered together, the way they moved with an easy familiarity that came from years of being entwined in each other’s lives. They had history together—years of laughter, of love, of shared moments. And sometimes, when you were alone with your thoughts, a sharp pang of jealousy would flare up. The subtle way their lives were woven together before you ever came into the picture—it was hard not to feel like you were intruding.

But in that moment, as Anna settled next to you, her presence warm and familiar, you reminded yourself that this was your place too. You belonged here. You weren’t an outsider, no matter what your mind tried to tell you. Remy and Anna had both reassured you in their own ways, without words, that you were part of this. You were loved. You were wanted. And they needed you just as much as you needed them.

Remy must have sensed the shift in your mood. His hand, which had been idly stroking your leg, stilled for a moment, then gave a small squeeze, his thumb brushing over your skin in a comforting gesture. His voice was soft, concerned, but laced with a quiet strength. "You okay, cher?"

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you placed your hand over his, grounding yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice betraying none of the vulnerability you were feeling.

Anna reached over to unlock the metal box, pulling out the circular band inside. Without a word, she attached it around her neck, the gesture simple but somehow filled with meaning. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her, the relief of knowing she’d be able to connect with you both again settling in your chest.

As Anna climbed over the bed, joining you both in the shared space, she hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking between you and Remy. You reached out without thinking, your hand slipping into hers, a silent reminder that you weren’t afraid of her, of her powers. You loved her just as much as you loved Remy, and this connection—this bond—you shared was something you wanted to nurture, not hide from.

Remy broke the silence, his voice teasing but warm. “You know, cher,” he began, his hand gently grasping Anna’s hand, “She loves me.”

Anna turned to look at you with a smile that was part teasing, part affectionate. “Really now?”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping you as you shook your head. “Oh, I regret saying anything now.”

Remy’s hand slapped your thigh lightly, a grin playing across his face. “No take backs,” he teased, his voice filled with that same playful energy that you loved so much. Anna let out a loud laugh as she nudged you with her arm, “You’re stuck with him now,” She warned, “Like one of those stray cats you feed in the street. Once you tell him you love him, that’s it, game over.” She joked as she moved aside slightly, watching as you slid off his lap and next to her, your knees brought up to your chest. A smile crossed your face as you watched the way Anna moved towards Remy, her fingers tracing the bruising on his side. You watched the way he tensed under her touch, the way the goosebumps spread across his skin.

“You two are killing me right now,” He groaned, looking between the two of you. A smirk crossed Annas face as she kissed him just above his nipple. Your grin widened as he tilted his head back and shook his head, you saw the way he swallowed, the way he closed his eyes.

Remy’s groan filled the room, low and desperate, as Anna’s lips brushed against his skin again. Her fingers traced the faint bruise along his ribs, her touch feather-light but deliberate. His breath hitched, his muscles tightening under her attention. You sat there, watching, your heart thrumming in your chest, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

Anna smirked, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Good.” She nipped at his collarbone, her teeth grazing just enough to make him jerk. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed beside him. You could see the tension in his arms, the way his knuckles whitened as he fought to stay still.

You moved closer, your eyes watching the scene in front of you. Your hand moved to brush Anna’s hair away from her neck, pressing a soft kiss just below her ear. She shivered, leaning into your touch, her lips parting as she turned her head to look at you. There was something electric about her gaze, something that made your stomach twist pleasantly.

“He’s trying so hard not to lose it,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Your fingers danced up Anna’s spine, feeling the way her body arched slightly under your touch. She let out a soft hum, her eyes half-lidded as she glanced back at Remy.

“Maybe we should help him with that sugar?” she suggested, her tone playful but laced with hunger. Her hand slid down Remy’s torso, her nails trailing lightly over his abs before dipping lower under the blanket. He hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice shaking. His eyes flicked between the two of you, dark with need. “You’re both… fuckin’ relentless.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press another kiss to Anna’s shoulder. Her skin was warm, soft, and you couldn’t resist sinking your teeth into the curve of her neck. She gasped, her fingers tightening on Remy’s hip. The sound she made went straight to your core, hot and insistent.

“Relentless?” you echoed, pulling back just enough to meet Remy’s gaze. “Lebeau, we haven’t even started.”

Anna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She moved away from Remy, turning to face you fully. Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slowly. You raised your arms, letting her pull it off and toss it aside. Her eyes roamed over your exposed skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed, her hands settling on your hips. You felt the heat of her palms through the thin fabric of your underwear, and you bit your lip, your pulse quickening.

Behind her, Remy groaned again, his fists clenching at his sides. “You really gon’ do dis to me, huh? Just… leave me here?”

Anna glanced over her shoulder, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Don’t worry, swamp rat. We’ll get to you.” She turned back to you, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. “But first…”

She dropped to her stomach, her hands sliding down your thighs as she pulled your panties down in one smooth motion. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but the heat of her breath so close to where you needed her most had you trembling for an entirely different reason.

Her hands gripped your hips, steadying you as she leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. You exhaled sharply, your fingers tangling in her hair. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, before finally closing the distance.

Her tongue slid through your folds, slow and deliberate, and you gasped, your head falling back. She moaned softly, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Her tongue circled your clit, teasing, and you tightened your grip on her hair, urging her on.

“Anna…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. She responded by sucking gently, her tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your knees nearly buckled, but she held you firmly, her mouth working you with skill and precision.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Remy shift, his gaze fixed on the two of you. His jaw was clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reached out a hand towards him, crooking your finger. “Come here,” you managed, your voice shaky but commanding.

He didn’t hesitate, moving forward until he was close enough for you to touch. Your free hand found the waistband of his underwear, yanking them down with help from him. He was already hard, his cock straining against his stomach, and you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a firm stroke.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand. You grinned, tightening your grip slightly, and he shuddered. “You’re… both…”

Anna pulled back, her lips slick as she looked up at you. “I thought you wanted him begging,” she said, her tone teasing. Her hands slid up your thighs, squeezing lightly.

“Oh, he will be,” you replied, your voice low and full of promise. You glanced down at Remy, your hand moving slowly along his length. “Won’t you, Cajun?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Whatever you want, just… please.”

Anna chuckled, sitting up and wrapping her arms around your waist. Her breasts pressed against your back, her lips finding your ear. “He needs to learn what happens when he makes us worry like this. Maybe next time he’ll listen to orders,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced, your body humming with anticipation. You nodded, your fingers tightening around him as you moved him off the bed. “On your knees,” you ordered, your voice firm.

He obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor in front of the bed. Anna released you, stepping around to stand beside him. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned, his head tilting back to look up at her.

“Look at you being a good boy,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as she tugged harder.

You moved off the bed and crouched behind him, “Spread your legs,” you instructed in his ear, your voice soft but commanding. He obeyed immediately, shifting to give you better access. You reached around, your fingers trailed up the inside of his thigh, brushing against his balls before moving higher.

Anna knelt in front of him, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him deeply. You watched for a moment, captivated by the way they moved together, before focusing on your task. Your tongue darted out, licking your lips as you moved in front of him, crouching down and taking him in your mouth. You listened as he moaned into Anna’s mouth, his hips bucking slightly.

A grin crossed your face as you looked up at him, “Do you like that?”

He nodded, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “Yes,” he managed, his voice strained. “Cher you…”

You didn’t need any further encouragement. Your tongue licked down his shaft as he let out another loud moan, bucking as you once again sucked him into your mouth.

Anna pulled back from the kiss, her lips swollen and glistening. She looked down at Remy, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave it a sharp tug. “Look at you,” she said, her voice thick with arousal. “Completely at our mercy.”

His eyes met hers, heavy-lidded and desperate. “Yours,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Both of yours. Always.”

The words sent a thrill through you, your body aching with the need to take him, to claim him. But you weren’t done yet. Pulling back slightly, you moved to grasp his cock, stroking him firmly as your tongue continued to tease him.

Anna shifted, her hand sliding down to join yours. Together, you worked him, your movements synced perfectly. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands turning into fists on the floor as he struggled to hold on.

“That’s it,” Anna coaxed, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let go for us, sugar.”

He shook his head, his teeth gritted. “Not… not yet…”

You smirked, slowing your hand and pulling back completely. He whined, his hips jerking forward, seeking friction. “What’s wrong?” you teased, your voice light. “Can’t take it anymore?”

“Fuck,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Cher don’ you stop. Not now…” You and Anna grinned as you both let go of him, moving back slightly. You saw the dark look on his face as you gave him a shit eating grin. You ran your hand though his hair, moving close to him as you leant down and whispered, “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like today again,” You tugged his hair as he let out a loud moan before you moved back towards the bed.

Remy’s breath hitched as he looked between the two of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes, dark and hungry, locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the room had stilled. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

“You think you’re in control,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with desire. “Oh mon amour you have no idea.”

Anna let out a soft laugh, her fingers still trailing along his bruised side. “Oh, we know exactly what you’re capable of,” she purred, leaning in to nip at his earlobe. “And we’ve been enjoying every second of it.”

But Remy wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he grabbed Anna’s wrist and pulled her up, his other hand sliding around your waist and yanking you with them. You gasped, startled by the sudden shift in power. His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“You’ve been playing with fire,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous growl. “And now… it’s my turn.”

Before you could react, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the wall. Your hands instinctively braced against the cool surface as you felt his body press into yours from behind. Anna let out a surprised yelp as Remy pinned her against the wall beside you, his free hand sliding up her thigh.

“Remy…” Anna breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement. “What are you—”

He cut her off with a searing kiss, his lips crashing against hers with raw intensity. You watched from the corner of your eye, your heart pounding as Anna melted into him, her moans muffled by his mouth. When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed.

“Both of you,” he said, his tone commanding, “Always pull dis shit wit; me. An’ now, it’s time I return de favor.”

You felt his hand slide down your back, gripping your hips firmly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck as he spoke. “You’ve been so good,” he murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine. “But I think it’s time I remind you who’s really in charge here.”

His grip tightened, and before you knew it, he was spinning you around to face him. His eyes burned with hunger as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you back against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and you could feel the hard length of him pressed against you, throbbing with need.

“Remy…” you whispered, your voice shaky with anticipation.

He smirked, his hands roaming over your body as he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss. Your head swam with the intensity of it, the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your chest heaving.

“Watch,” he commanded, turning his attention to Anna.

She stood there, her eyes wide and filled with desire, her lips parted as she waited for whatever he had in store. Remy stepped closer to her, his hands sliding up her arms until they reached her shoulders. With a firm push, he guided her to her knees, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Be a good girl,” he said, his voice low and demanding. “And show me how much you want dis.”

Anna’s hands trembled as she reached for his cock. Her lips parted, and without hesitation, she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Remy groaned, his head tipping back as he tangled one hand in her hair, guiding her movements. His other hand reached out, grasping your thigh and pulling you closer. You bit your lip, feeling the heat building between your legs as you watched Anna pleasure him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Dat’s it… just like dat.”

Anna’s moans vibrated against him, her pace quickening as she took him deeper. You could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his hips bucked slightly, desperate for more. But then, without warning, he pulled away, leaving Anna gasping for air.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “We ain’t done here.”

He turned to you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushed you face down on to the bed, him following you soon after. You felt the hot, wet tip of his cock brush against your core, and you whimpered, arching your back as he teased you.

“Please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Remy…”

He smirked, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you completely, his girth stretching you in the most delicious way. A low groan escaped his lips as he began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate.

“Look at her,” he growled, tilting your chin toward Anna. “She’s watching us, loving every second of it.”

You turned your head, meeting Anna’s gaze. Her eyes were dark with lust, her lips swollen and glistening. She licked them slowly, as she watched Remy fuck you with reckless abandon.

“Do you like what you see?” Remy asked her, his voice taunting.

Anna nodded eagerly, “Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes…”

Remy chuckled darkly, his pace quickening as he continued to pound into you. “Den why ain’t you here?”

Without hesitation, Anna climbed onto the bed, positioning herself in front of you. Her fingers traced your lips, and you opened your mouth, letting her slip them inside. You sucked on them greedily, your tongue swirling around her digits as Remy’s thrusts grew harder, faster.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand reaching down to spank your ass sharply. You cried out, the sting only fueling your desire as he continued to drive into you.

Anna leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Her tongue dueled with yours, her hands roaming over your body as Remy dominated you from behind. The combination of sensations was overwhelming—the way he filled you, the way Anna’s touch ignited your skin—and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

“I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss. “So close…”

“Not yet,” Remy growled, slowing his pace. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. Anna whined in protest, but Remy silenced her with a look. He grabbed her roughly, flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her hips up. You watched, your breath catching, as he positioned himself behind her.

“Your turn,” he said, slapping her ass hard. “Show me how much you want it cherie.”

Anna moaned, pushing her hips back eagerly. Remy didn’t make her wait, plunging into her with a single, powerful thrust. She cried out, her nails digging into the sheets as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Like dat?” he taunted, his hand gripping her hair and pulling her head back. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“Yes!” she screamed, her body writhing beneath him. “God, yes!”

You crawled closer, unable to resist the sight of them together. Your hand slid between her legs, finding her swollen clit and rubbing it in slow circles. Anna’s moans grew louder, her hips grinding against your fingers as Remy fucked her relentlessly.

“Come for us,” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. “Let go…” With a strangled cry, Anna did just that, her entire body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her. Remy followed soon after, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled himself inside her with a guttural groan.

“Fuck,” He groaned as he pressed his head into your shoulder, “Fuck,”. You laid down next to Anna, your face meeting hers as you kissed her gently, “God I love you,” You whispered to her. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at you, her cheeks flushed as she reached up to run her hand through your hair, “I love you so much more,” She breathed as she pressed her lips to yours. Remy pulled out, looking down at you both for a moment, “I need to sort you out,” He breathed, looking at you. You shook your head, “I can do it myself,” You breathed. Remy smirked, “You know me better than dat Cher,” He said as he grabbed your legs, pulling your legs off the bed and pushing them up before crouching down in front of you. He presses his lips to your inner thighs, his hands gripping them ever so slightly to keep them still. You look over at Anna who was looking at you, her hand tracing your face before making their way down to your nipples, pulling and tugging at them as you gave a loud moan.  You felt the way Remy’s mouth began pressing kisses to your folds before finally sinking his tongue in your center. There, he began to suck and lick you delicately, like he wanted to taste every single bit of you.  You could feel the knot in your stomach, the all too familiar feeling of wanting to let go, you let out a loud moan as his fingers plunged deep inside you and his tongue continuing to circle your clit softly. Anna pulled you into another kiss as she pressed her tongue into yours. “Fuck, you taste so good,” Remy breathed as he came up, smirking as you let out a groan of disappointment. Anna reached in between your folds, her fingers lightly stroking you as she rested her head on her hand, watching with a smile as Remy torturously kissed his way up your stomach and chest, making sure to pay special attention to your breasts; his tongue circling your nipples and his teeth gently pulling at them. “This is payback isn’t it?” You breathed as you felt the goosebumps rise against your skin. Another moan as you felt Anna’s fingers dipped inside of you, “You asshole Lebeau,”. Remy looks up and smirks at Anna who kisses him deeply in front of you, her hands withdrawing from you. You watch as she brings her fingers, slick with you, to his lips; her eyes dark as he slowly sucks them. She runs her hand through his hair as he turns back to you. He hovers over you, watching you closely as he slowly enters you, your nails scratching down his shoulders in pleasure. You let out a moan as he fully enters you. You could hear him swear in French as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. He moves and looks at you, kissing you as you bring your hips to meet his. As the pace quickens, he grabs your hands, pinning them above your head, kissing you deeply, a loud moan echoing through the room. You could feel Anna’s hands gripping your wrists, pressing her lips to the inside of them. The two of you move together, your bodies in sync as he thrusts into you. Each movement sends waves of pleasure through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you meet his hips with your own.

He continues to kiss you, his lips hot and hungry as they explore your mouth. His hands are still holding yours above your head, keeping you pinned in place as his fingers now threaded through the other womans as well.

A shocked squeal escapes your lips as he lifts you off the bed with ease, sitting you up on top of him as you hold on to him with your hands, your legs wrapped around him. You start gently moving, his forehead pressed against yours, he captures your lips once again as you both start to move in sync.   Your eyes met Annas who was now sitting by the bedhead, watching you both with that familiar look of love and adoration. Her bottom lip was caught in between her bottom lip as she watched you both with darkened eyes. As you turned back to Remy and begin to move together, his hands were on your hips, guiding you as you rock back and forth. You could feel him deep inside you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You feel amazing," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Stop fucking talking,” Was all that was able to come out of your mouth as he continuously hit that spot.

You continue to move together, your bodies in sync as you explore each other. You can feel the way your bodies fit together, the way he fills you up completely. It's a feeling of completeness, of wholeness, that you've never experienced before him.

As you move together, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. But this time, you're not in a rush to get there. Instead, you savour every moment, every sensation. You explore every inch of him, your hands roaming over his chest and back. You almost lost him today. And you refuse to let yourself go another minute without savouring him, savouring the time you all had together.

You can feel the way his muscles tense and release beneath your fingertips, the way his breath catches in his throat as you hit just the right spot. You can feel the way he responds to your touch, the way he moans and gasps in pleasure.

He continues to kiss you, his lips hot and hungry as they explore your mouth. His tongue traces patterns on your lips, your tongue, your teeth. You can feel the way he tastes, the way he smells, and it's intoxicating.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, the way your muscles tightened and released. You could feel the way your breath came in short gasps, the way your heart raced in your chest.

Finally, you can't take it any longer. “Remy, fuck,” Your body trembling as you come undone in his arms. He follows shortly after, his whole body tensing up as he reaches his peak. You can feel his teeth sink into your collarbone as you press a kiss into his shoulder, his arms tightening around you. The air in the room was thick with the lingering warmth of intimacy, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the three of you. The scent of skin and faint traces of lavender from Anna’s lotion mingled with the subtle crispness of Remy’s cologne. He pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to feel the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his skin. His forehead rested against you for a moment, his breath warm and steady.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of sincerity.

He knew he should move, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. Slowly, he reached back, smiling when Anna’s hand met his. Her fingers were soft but firm as she intertwined them with his, pressing her lips to the palm of his hand. She moved closer, her bare skin brushing against his back as her arms came around him, cradling the space between him and you. Her touch was tender as she brushed a lock of hair from your face.

Remy tilted his head slightly, watching the way Anna’s lips pressed to your forehead. The connection between the three of you felt so tangible, so grounding, as though the world outside didn’t exist. His chest swelled with emotion—love so deep and pure it almost felt overwhelming. He’d never thought he’d have this, this sense of home wrapped up in two people who had become his everything.

You opened your eyes, giving Anna a lazy, half-lidded smile that spoke of complete contentment. The sight tugged at something deep inside Remy, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, his trademark grin softening into something more vulnerable.

“So,” he asked, a playful gleam returning to his eyes as he leaned back slightly to get a better look at you. “How long you planning on staying in here? Considering I apparently snore and all.”

You stretched your arms lazily, your shirt nowhere to be found, and gave him a teasing smirk. “Forever,” you whispered, your tone mock-serious but with a glint of truth behind the word.

Remy’s heart flipped at the sound, the simplicity of it hitting him like a bolt. Forever. It was the answer he hadn’t realized he needed to hear. Anna’s voice, soft and sure, echoed your words. “Forever sounds good.”

He watched as you slid off him with a grin, moving across the room to grab your shirt. He admired the way you moved, graceful even in your teasing. Pulling your shirt over your head, you threw them a grin before heading toward the bathroom. As the door closed behind you, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

God, he loved you. He loved you in ways he couldn’t put into words, in ways that made the thought of forever with you feel not just possible but necessary.

Anna pressed a kiss to his shoulder, her lips soft and warm, and he turned to face her, catching the glint in her green eyes that mirrored his own feelings. “Forever,” she whispered again, her voice dreamy, almost as if speaking the word aloud would cement it into reality.

Remy cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her jaw as his lips hovered just above hers. There was no rush in his movement, no urgency—just pure adoration. When their lips met, it was soft at first, growing into something deeper as he poured every ounce of his love for her into the kiss.

Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, Remy let his eyes close for a brief moment. His voice, low and heavy with emotion, broke the quiet. “Yeah, ma chérie. Forever sounds real good.” The words weren’t just spoken—they were a promise, a declaration of everything he felt and everything he would give to keep this moment, this love, this family they had built.

When he opened his eyes, he saw it reflected in hers. That same love, deep and unwavering, shining back at him like a beacon. It was the kind of love that anchored him, the kind that softened the edges of a life that had too often been sharp and cruel. Her lips curved into a small smile, and it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm.

As they sat there, the room bathed in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, the quiet stretched between them, not empty but full—full of everything they didn’t need to say. Anna’s hand found his, their fingers intertwining with a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, Remy felt like he could finally breathe.

He gave her a smile, one that was soft around the edges, full of that playful charm he always carried but tempered now by something deeper. His heart felt full to bursting as he thought of you in the other room, teasing and laughing with them one minute, and completely stealing his breath away the next.

Forever.

The word settled into him, not just a hope but a truth he was ready to hold onto with both hands.

Just him and his girls. His heart, his home, his everything.

[omegastation]

I made a post this morning and I deleted it because I feared I wasn’t as eloquent or as kind as I could be. Let me try this again. I do want to be kind, and explain myself well. And it’s not about creating drama, it’s about something I truly care about, and that is worth the post here. (tw grief, fandom talk)

Since I’ve came back, I’ve seen a lot of posts about grief, especially about Shepard’s death, and a lot of comparing squadmates, how they grieve, with the ultimate (weird to me) goal of proving “who grieved the most”. I worry about the way it might impact some of us in fandom who have grieved/are grieving. Because it is very harsh to present one way of grieving as the right way or the most showing of love.

The best way to explain it is by giving an example. In my line of work, I encounter many people who are grieving, and mostly following very difficult circumstances.  One woman I know went back to work the following year after losing her loved one. She was in extreme pain, but she reacted as if nothing had happened. People knew of course, but she kept going on and on, and she had a major job at a major corporation. A leader, one that you see speaking at conferences. She did all that for a year. You couldn’t tell she was grieving by looking at her. Another woman lost her loved one, and had difficulty walking the following months after the death. Her pain was visible, the other wasn’t... But I would never think about comparing their pain, or suggesting one was grieving the most or loved the most. Because grief is like that. It can be silent, or not. People have different ways to cope, to move on or not. And it’s a process, not always linear. 

I saw my friend who grieved on the tramway home and she was smiling for the most part, but at one point she had tears in her eyes.  I don’t need to see the tears to understand that she’s going through something. She can also smile as much as she wants. It doesn’t mean she loved less, cared less or is grieving less than someone else. And so, the way some people are pinpointing one way to grieve as the most showing of love or the realest one is not only inaccurate to me, but also not really considerate of the different ways people might be grieving. Here in this fandom, we also don’t know who is grieving, and how they are coping. And I think many of us see fandom as a fun place, and to keep it as a fun place, we should just respect the different ways we love, care, grieve, etc.  And really, the underlying thing behind all this grief talk is about the one favorite character, ship, li… The one who grieved the most, basically, as the most natural choice, the best, the “canon” one. But not everyone has that one preference (which it is, it’s a preference, not a default pick), and honestly, it’s okay.  We have to accept that people think differently than us in our fandom, because that’s how we let people carve out a place for themselves. It’s not “one way” and that’s it.  And it shouldn’t be like that, because if everyone in fandom thought the same way, it would be boring, and it would be very restricted in a way. 

I hope nothing I said here can be seen as hurtful. Making people feel welcome is important to me here. It’s how I get to talk to so many of you, and have fun, and deal with my own grief.

[oleandequill]

You know, it drives me crazy to know that technically there’s two (at least in terms of prominence cause I think there’s also a TFA one though it doesn’t seem as talked about) canonical Shattered Glass continuities: the one made by FunPub and the IDW reboot.

Cause the thing is, those two comics have vastly different Megatrons and Optimus Primes.

Like we have FunPub Megatron who is a mathematician and Optronix who was a librarian that backstabbed his way to the top.

Then we have the IDW versions where Megatron is a miner/civil activist who keeps getting tossed into jail and Orion Pax who is a senator in this version.

And what fascinates me is that in the FunPub version, Optimus actually lives (though he becomes Nova Prime). Meanwhile, in the IDW version, I think he dies (?) or well his fate is much worse in comparison to FunPub!OP.

Also what’s up with both Megatrons having a fakeout death? FunPub!Megatron does get killed by Cyclonus but he comes back as Galvatron. Meanwhile IDW!Megatron gets defeated by OP and is momentarily thought to be dead (he just went into self-exile).

There’s not actually a lot of difference between the two OPs (cause honestly they both seem insane), though I guess one could interpret FunPub!OP as much more depressing cause the only reason he’s evil is cause he saw life as meaningless unless history remembers you and when he becomes Nova Prime, he’s still a little jerk but he’s tamer so I assume that was his original personality. IDW!OP just wants total power and only initially hides behind a nice facade.

The two Megatrons are vastly different though in my opinion. Cause FunPub!Megatron really was just some guy who predicted civil war and was good enough to want to stop it (this Megatron wasn’t affected by the caste system, he just genuinely saw something wrong was happening and chose to do something about it). IDW!Megatron was someone who was affected by the caste system and was trying his best to bring attention to it. FunPub!Megatron is also very nice (like not overly nice but he’s genuinely such a nice guy and this is why he’s my favorite aside from him being a nerd lmao). IDW!Megatron is a bit more jaded (which is fair cause the caste system is horrible and his “friend” is an asshole).

Even the relationship between OP and Megatron are different in both continuities. I’m pretty sure in FunPub these two never interacted before the war, where OP gets pissed that this random mathematician is opposing him. In IDW, OP and Megatron were “friends” with OP even bailing Megatron out of jail, though their “friendship” was already toxic even before the war cause Megatron seemed to really see through OP’s BS.

All this to say, there should really be a crossover between both continuities.

SGFunPub!Megs and SGIDW!OP meeting would be kinda fun and dangerous, especially if they meet each other before the civil war broke out. Megatron wouldn’t know who OP is while OP would see another version of his Megatron who he could possibly trick. Also this has the added bonus of a hilarious scenario where Megatron predicts OP is the cause of the civil war through math and that pisses off OP cause genuinely tf you mean you computed that through math. This one is more dangerous though as OP genuinely wants power and will not be swayed by whatever Megatron says.

SGIDW!Megs and SGFunPub!OP might honestly end up the happier version ngl. Cause OP clearly has an existential crisis that Megatron can probably fix by convincing him that OP can still be remembered in history by doing the right thing… such as being a civil rights activist. Like… I’m just saying maybe FunPub!OP needs therapy (and unlike IDW!OP, he actually gets a canonical redemption arc so he’s not completely lost).

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.

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Anyway, will I write this? Maybe (I really shouldn’t though cause I have a series and two writing requests to finish lmao). Because I am officially employed now and thus have a fixed schedule unlike the previous weeks where my schedule was erratic (which is not good for my OCD as I need a fixed schedule or I will be very upset sksksksk) as I had nothing to do but read, play video games, and exist lmao

[mysteriousxgirls]

Aida listened to Leo, her heart heavy with every word he said. The pain in his voice, the regret, the vulnerability that broke through all the bravado he had built around himself, it all made her feel like she was drowning in emotions she didn’t know how to handle. She couldn’t process it all, not at once. She’d spent so long keeping her walls up, so long pretending she didn’t care, and now here he was, saying things that twisted her insides into knots. She wanted to say something, to tell him that he didn’t have to do all of this, that he didn’t need to fight battles for her, but her throat felt tight, and the words wouldn’t come. Her mind was filled with questions she didn’t know how to ask. Why did he care? Why was he doing this for her? Didn’t he hate her for everything she had done to him in the past? The way she treated him, the bullying, the cruel words, the constant dismissal of him as if he were nothing more than a joke. He should have hated her, shouldn’t he?

And yet, here he was, apologizing for something that she didn’t even know how to process. She didn’t know how to handle his confession, his explanation, the way he reached for her hands, the tenderness in his touch as he spoke of protecting her. It was too much. She could feel the lump in her throat as her vision blurred, and before she could stop herself, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by the sudden rush of emotions she couldn’t keep in check. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening with the weight of everything. Leo was looking at her like she meant something to him, like she mattered. And she didn’t understand why. Not after everything.

Her voice trembled when she spoke, soft and shaky, “You don’t have to protect me, Leo. I’m not... I’m not worth it.” She knew it wasn’t true, but the words slipped out in the heat of the moment. She was angry at herself for feeling so conflicted. But then, as if to lighten the mood, Leo made his little joke about the nurse outfit. Aida couldn’t help it. A soft laugh bubbled up from her chest, catching her off guard. It was a small sound, fragile, but it felt like the first real breath she’d taken all night. She couldn’t hold onto the heaviness forever, and she knew he didn’t mean to add to it. She gave him a look, her lips curling just slightly.

“Maybe next time,” she replied with a quiet, teasing smile, but there was still a weight to her voice that lingered. She reached for his hand again, squeezing it gently as she let herself breathe for a moment longer. Aida took in a shaky breath, steadying herself before she said, “Leo… I don’t know what to make of all this. But right now, all I know is that I don’t want you to hurt anymore.” Her voice softened as she added, “I’m still angry, but... I’m not sure at you anymore.” she cleared her throat. "now go shower you filthy nerd." she said jokingly with a soft smile as she let go of his hands and pointed over to the bathroom.

It was one thing to hurt himself, but to see her here, tending to him as if he deserved any of this care—this kindness—made the weight of everything feel unbearable. "I know," Leo murmured, voice rasping like broken glass. His words scratched at his throat, raw with truth he couldn’t hide. "I never wanted to put you in this place, cleaning up my mess." The silence hung thick, suffocating in its weight. He tried to find the words to explain, but the space between them felt endless, filled with confusion and something deeper—something undeniable, a bond he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried.

It was time to speak the truth, even if it made no sense to her. Better that than to let her think he was just a ticking time bomb, driven by anger. "Walking away would’ve been easy," Leo said, wincing at the sting in his knuckle, "but how would that have kept you safe?" His gaze dropped, shoulders heavy with regret. "So he treats you like that, speaks to you like that—like you're weaker, smaller, and nothing happens? He keeps doing it, knowing he can, because the system doesn't care. They’d call the cops, and nothing would change."

His voice lowered, softer now, but the pain still bled through. "I needed him to remember. Needed him to know that if he ever came after you, this is what he’d face. Even if it meant making things worse." It wasn’t an excuse—he knew that. But he needed to make an impression, to stop the cycle. To make sure the man knew there would be consequences. But it wasn’t working. He had no illusions of that now.

"Look," Leo said, his hands finding hers, calloused thumbs brushing across her skin, "I’m sorry for scaring you. For not being who you needed me to be." His voice cracked with the weight of his confession. "Just know that in that moment, I was in control. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone that far, but sometimes, I guess, that’s how I teach a lesson.” His gaze lifted, searching for her eyes, desperate to show her that he was still him—that Leo hadn’t disappeared into the chaos. His intentions were never to hurt her, but to protect her. To keep her safe. He wasn’t just some fool driven by rage. He cared for her more than words could say, more than he'd ever let himself admit. “I am lucky you’re right… Luckier if you had a nurse outfit on while doing this” the male smirked, trying to lighten the mood ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the right time but he wanted to show her that Leo was right there despite everything she might believe right now.

[lyrebirdgore]

I think I figured it out guys. I didn’t message him yesterday. He hasn’t responded in two days but I kept on messaging him. I didn’t yesterday.

Gonna. Gonna jump off a roof FUCK-

[dykedvonte]

Mini rant below and in the tags, the only time I’ll talk about this and my personal take on it.

The way people talk about hypothetical male Anya on Twitter and the idea of how Mouthwashing would play out if the genders were swapped makes me remember how people still don’t take sexual assault and rape with male victims with the same gravity, especially when the perpetrator is female.

[seasideoranges]

idk if it’s just me but the whole “which atla kid in the gaang is the most mature” debates can get redundant and kind of exhausting at times. they’re kids. they’re multifaceted characters. they’re mature in some departments and immature in others. they have their strengths and weaknesses. also they’re kids lol.

[highlyillogicalandroid]

Hey y’all Agatha All Along isn’t bury your gays just because Agatha died after kissing *checks notes* the embodiment of death. She’s a ghost now. That literally happened IN THE SHOW. You think Death and a ghost can’t fuck nasty?

[jalboyhenthusiast]

it’s truly champagne problems but it’s incredibly frustrating to me when ppl don’t GET harry or even make the slightest effort to try and see where he’s coming from about anything.. ever

[intomybubble]

Look how time flies

Kumon is graduating!