#all my older stuff will be staying on ao3

[bewitchingbloom]

By Any Other Name - Prologue and Chapter One

From now on I'm going to be posting my writing exclusively on Tumblr, so I'm transferring over my current long fic and a few other stories that were never posted here in full for continuity's sake.

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: M to be safe

Warnings: None

Relationship: Commander/Daeran/Woljif (F/M/M)

"Oh tell to me Tam Lin” she said "Why came you here to dwell" "The Fairy Queen caught me," he said, "When from my horse I fell. And at the end of seven years She pays a tithe to hell” - The Ballad of Tam Lin

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

She lived deep in the woods, in a small cottage with her daughter. The witch won’t pretend she was good, or kind. That would be a lie. What she was, however, was powerful. So powerful she was forced into hiding, to perform in craft in secret and isolation. That worked for her, though. For the most part.

The only company she had was that of her daughter, whom she raised far from civilization and all its trappings. The girl grew up curious and inquisitive, and in time bloomed into a wild and mischievous personality. The witch did not mind. Many things could be said about her, most of them were horrible, but one of them was this - she loved her daughter very much.

One day, her daughter decided she was tired of living in their small cottage, deep in the woods. There was a whole world out there, or so she’d heard. She wanted to see it, and so she put a plan into motion. She scoured her mother’s spellbooks, day and night ,and formulated a plan. It was brilliant, she thought. Her mother couldn’t possibly be mad at her, not with how clever she was! And even if she was - she’d be gone before she even noticed.

Naturally, this did not go as planned. The plan backfired, and the witch’s daughter paid the ultimate price for it.

In her grief, the witch contemplated many courses of action. What good were all her powers, if she couldn’t save the one person she loved?

It was that thought she held onto, as she began to formulate a plan of her own. One that would see her daughter alive and whole again. One that would take a very long time to set in motion, and require extraordinary effort on her part.

It was brilliant, she thought. No one could possibly fault her for what she was about to do. And even if they did - they’d be gone before they could do anything about it.

Chapter One

“What kind of name is Heaven’s Edge for a village, anyways?”

The question that’d been on Ariadne’s mind was voiced by her mother, who was sitting next to her in the carriage. Judging by the sly, sidelong look she shot her, she knew she’d just been itching to ask this herself. Ariadne smirked in response, which was most inconvenient, since she’d resolved to be as glum and gloomy as possible on this journey.

Her father and stepfather sat across from them, and they exchanged their own look. It was half amusement, half exasperation.

“I believe the name is related to the Arendae ancestral home. The village sprang up around it, and I suppose it’s only natural to adopt the pompous name the landed gentry you tithe to decided was worthy.” Elvandir shot her a conspiratorial grin, which she couldn’t help but return. Damnit, she was supposed to be the picture of a sullen teenager!

“Yes, well, let’s make sure to save those scathing criticisms for the evening over supper, hm? At least until we know how much the town guard expects as a bribe to forget we’ve said anything.” Her father gave Elvandir an admonishing look as he spoke, one that slid effortlessly to her mother a moment later, then her. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Now, instead of her resolve to be the most dour daughter imaginable, she just felt guilty.

It was her fault they were having to pack up and move to the northernmost part of the country, despite what everyone told her. If she’d just been a bit more careful, a bit less invested in her reading and a bit more aware of her surroundings, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Her chest ached, the edges of the closed wound burning faintly in an ever-present reminder of the burden she’d become.

Her father’s mirth dissipated as her demeanor shifted. “Ariadne, are you all right?”

She nodded too quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. It did nothing to reassure anyone. Her mother scooted closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Ariadne let her head rest against her shoulder, all conviction to be morose forgotten.

“We should be arriving soon. Everything in the house is already set up, so how about you get some rest while we get things set up on the farm?” Ariadne started to protest, but the concern on her parents’ faces shot killed the objections in her throat. Instead she nodded slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her chest through her dress as she let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

****

If there was one thing Woljif Jefto knew, it was that tieflings got no respect in a place like Heaven’s Edge. So when he overheard two of the town’s biggest gossip mongers trading whispers about a family of tieflings moving into one of the newly established farmsteads outside town, well, he couldn’t resist the urge to sneak out and see for himself.

It was easy enough to sneak away. School had just let out for summer vacation not even a week prior, and Gran didn’t expect, or even want, him back until nightfall. She'd probably kick him out of the house for good if the rumor mill would let her, but sadly for her the family that owned the tavern, the Vaenics, were the pious sort who looked down on things like disowning your flesh and blood. If she wanted to keep easy access to her favorite vice, she had to keep her grandson around, no matter how much she loathed him.

That suited him just fine, because he hated the old windbag too. There was plenty around the town to keep him occupied. Lots of good shops to scope out, lots of annoyed shopkeeps to outrun…why waste his time at home getting knocked about the horns when he could do that in town and maybe get something shiny out of it to boot?

But that did leave one question, one that bounced in his head like the coin he so desperately wished was in his pocket, and that was, what tiefling family in their right mind would move out here? None, it turned out, because it wasn’t a tiefling family. At least, not entirely.

He snuck up to the farmhouse, no easy feat as it was set almost dead center on the small plot of land. As got closer, he heard the voices, just barely managing to hide in the hedges lining the house before a trio of people rounded the corner.

One of them was a tiefling, with dark red skin and curving horns. His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard were shot through with grey, but besides that he didn’t seem terribly old. Walking to one side of him was a woman who seemed human at first glance, until he caught sight of her eyes - one dark brown, the other ice blue. Changeling. Despite having never met one, he just knew that's what she was. She was pretty, but unnerving, and the only plausible explanation his mind came up with was that she had some fey in her. Rounding out the trio was an elven man. He towered over the other two, his dark skin offset by the pure white of his hair. He had a wide, friendly smile, one that didn't alleviate the creepiness of his eyes in the slightest. Woljif had seen an elf before, and he knew those eyes were typical of their kind. Didn't change the fact they were off-putting at the best of times.

So, not a family of tieflings, but not the most usual dynamic either. Woljif watched as they walked past his hiding spot, holding his breath, just waiting to be found out. They just kept walking, though, chatting happily amongst themselves. Woljif sighed with relief when they were out of earshot, pleased he hadn't been found out. That feeling lasted all of five seconds, because just as he opened his eyes again, something slammed into the side of his face.

“Ow! What the -” His curse was cut off by the sight of a girl crawling out of the window above his hiding spot. She stared at him, her expression no doubt mirroring his own. He watched her pupils go from cat-like slits to full blown and back again. In hindsight, that should've been his first clue that there was something different about her, but it wasn't until she launched herself off the windowsill and onto him, her hand clamped over his mouth, that he realized she was a tiefling as well.

“Shh!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her eyes darting past him. While she attempted to scope out whatever it was that had her spooked, he took in the sight of the small curved horns on top of her head and the tail lashing in the air behind her. If anything was going to give them away, it was that, but with her hand still silencing him he couldn't exactly voice that thought.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “I think they’re gone,” she said, tension bleeding out of her. She then turned her gaze to him, looking at him like he was a puzzle or riddle to figure out. “Who’re you and why are you beneath my window?”

He considered turning the question around on her, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides the obvious tiefling features, she was the spit of the changeling woman he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she belonged here, and he didn’t. That made this situation rather precarious, no matter how relaxed she now seemed.

“I was just comin’ to meet the new folks in town. Ya know, bein’ neighborly and all that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still sounded weak to his own ears. If she thought the same, it didn’t show. Instead, she inclined her head slightly, taking him in with interest.

“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for it,” she said, a small smirk playing on the edge of her lips, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring a baked good of some kind?”

“Oh? Well damn, if I’d known that I woulda swiped those cherry rolls from the baker’s after all.” It was strange - normally he’d never admit to something like that to anyone, let alone a stranger, but this girl, with her big, earnest eyes and mischievous smile, made him feel more at ease than anyone else ever had. That probably wasn’t a good thing - he’d heard what happened when people fell for pretty faces and charming smiles, and it’d always been a fate he wished to avoid. But at the moment, he didn't have it in himself to care.

Her eyes lit up. “So there’s a baker’s in town? What else? Is there a bookshop? Or a library? An apothecary?” She leaned further into him, fingers lightly resting on his chest. He blinked. That was not the barrage of questions he had expected to be asked if he got caught, and coupled with her proximity it was making him feel uncomfortably warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“Why you askin’ me? You can just go see for yourself. It’s not like it’s far or anythin’,” he said with a cough, finally breaking eye contact with her and hoping she didn’t clock the blush that now stained his cheeks. After a brief silence from her, he glanced back. She was looking past him again, biting her lip as her tail swayed gently close to the ground. His own was cramped underneath him, but despite the fact it was starting to go numb he didn’t move to shove her off him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “I’m supposed to be resting, but…I really want to see the village. Will you take me?”

Questions upon questions burst forth in his mind. Why did she need to rest? Why was she trusting a boy she just met to guide her? What perfume was she wearing that made her smell so good? Hells, what was her name? He decided to go with the one that was easiest to ask.

“Mind tellin’ me your name first?”

Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by a slightly sheepish smile. “I’m Ariadne. And you are?”

“Woljif. Woljif Jefto.” He said it with as much bravado as he could muster. It was a nothing name that didn’t mean anything to anybody but him, but he liked it all the same. For some reason, he hoped she did too.

****

Daeran Arendae was hopelessly, hideously bored, and he was ready to make it everyone else’s problem.

He stared idly at the window display of the town’s trinket shop - pardon, it’s Antiquities and Mysteries shop. Nothing about any of the items he saw was particularly mysterious; it looked more like a place where passerby could pawn whatever was in their pockets to a proprietor that was no doubt going to spin a yarn and sell it for ten times what it was actually worth.

The gnome who ran the place had just moved to Heaven’s Edge a year or so prior, once word had gotten to Kenabres about how bustling and booming the town was becoming. A part of him wondered if the gnome felt cheated once he got to this backwater and saw the truth. The fact the shop was still in business, and bustling as ever, was answer enough, he assumed. That was for the better, as it was the only store within walking distance to town hall that also offered any shade.

It didn’t take long for him to become aware someone was watching him. Besides the servant his mother had insisted accompany him, that was. She was a pale, silent older woman who stared at him like he was a miracle given flesh. He was used to that reaction by now - aasimar were rare this far north, so he and his mother were likely the first she’d ever met. He had no doubt she had eyes on him, even now, but she likely wasn’t the source of the fervent whispering he was hearing from nearby.

“…do you know he even has anything good on him? He’s the same age as us!” This voice was female, with a light accent he couldn’t quite place. It also sounded fairly incredulous to be having this conversation.

“Yeah, so? That shirt alone’s gotta be worth a fortune. Even if all I get is lint, chances are it’ll be worth its weight in gold!” This one, slightly deeper, was affected by the local accent. Judging by the tone, the person who the voice belonged to was dismayed to find that voicing these words didn’t make this plan sound any better.

“Lint doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Exactly!”

“So you’ll get nothing?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” There was a long pause. “I’m confused now.”

“I’m not. Under no circumstances do I think you should go through with this.”

“You want one of those cherry rolls or not?” More silence, this time from the girl. After a moment, the boy added, “Thought so. Now just wait here, I promise it won’t take long.”

Daeran stood still, pretending he was enamored with one of the objects in the window. It wasn’t an easy task, as every item his gaze landed on was more hideous than the last. Finally, he felt a small, barely perceptible tug on his shirt. He had to hand it to the boy - if he wasn’t aware he was the mark, he might not have even noticed. But he did, and the thrill that ran through him as he casually slid his hand down to grasp the thief by the wrist was addicting.

He turned just as the boy let out a startled yelp. The quip that formulated in his mind comparing his would-be assailant to a dog died in his throat as he caught sight of him. Dark curls, purple skin, golden eyes wide with surprise…he was quite handsome, for a thief. The horns had a certain charm to them too, he supposed. And the tail…! Movement caught his eye and he looked past the thief to see his companion, a tiefling girl of about the same age who was just fetching, her eyes a dark shade of amber with a smattering of freckles across her nose and lips to die for.

A rather strange time to discover he might have a preference, all told, but he wasn’t going to complain. His afternoon had just gone from boring to exciting in a matter of seconds, after all. Now he only needed the perfect opening line.

“If you’re so desperate to see what’s in my pants, you could’ve just asked.” All right, perhaps that was a bit too forward, but the blush that spread across the tiefling boy’s cheeks made it worth it.

“I-I wasn't…I mean, it's not…” The boy spluttered as he broke out of his grasp.

“Not what? What it seems?” His lips twisted in what he hoped was his most charming sneer. Sure, he might find the two of them attractive, but that didn't change the fact they’d just been attempting to rob him. He was the scion of his house, and it was most unbecoming if he just let this slide. And besides, having your pockets rifled through was annoying, no matter how dazzling the perpetrator. “Either you were attempting to grope me, or relieve me of my possessions. So which would it be?

Behind the boy, the girl rolled her eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at the gesture, but instead he found a grin blossoming on his face instead. It grew when she said, “I think you know it was the latter. No one’s gonna try to cop a feel on someone who could clearly have their hands cut off for doing so.”

“By that logic, isn’t your friend’s attempt to pickpocket me equally as likely to result in that outcome, if not more?”

The girl scowled at him, in a manner quite ill-befitting her pretty face. He smiled in return.

“You’re right,” she said, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Daeran. “We’re sorry. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Ari,” the boy hissed, “This is Countess Arendae’s son.” His eyes were wide, his riotous mass of black curls trembling slightly.

“What?” Now it was her turn to look surprised. He found he liked this expression on her much more. “Of all the - why did you try it with him!?”

“I didn’t recognize the back of his head!”

“As amusing as it is for you two to talk as if I’m not here, I really have to insist you stop.” Really, he was genuinely amused by this. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t his mother or his tutors to directly interact with him, and he found he rather liked it when said interaction was with people his own age. Though the alarmed looks they kept giving him would prove to be a problem…

“We’re sorry,” the girl repeated again. After a moment, she added, through gritted teeth, “Lord Arendae.”

That he scoffed at. “Please don’t. Call me Daeran, if it’s all the same to you.”

The tieflings exchanged a glance at that. The boy still looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, but the girl’s fear and annoyance was quickly being replaced by what he believed was curiosity.

“All right, Daeran,” she said, “We’re sorry we tried to rob you, and for talking like you weren’t here. Now, mind telling us why you haven’t called a guard or something?”

Daeran had to bite back the immediate retort, which was that he didn’t particularly want to see them arrested. If they knew that, they might just take off. That was precisely what he didn’t want. This was the most fun he’d had in a while, and he wanted to ensure his continued entertainment. And the best way to do that…

“You know, this shop supposedly has wonders from all over the world inside it.” He could tell they didn’t quite believe him. Not that he blamed them - he didn’t quite believe it either. “Why don't we go inside and take a little look? And if you see anything worth taking, well…it would help to have the Countess’ son along, right?”

Part of him didn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. He might be a spiteful little shit, as he’d been told, but aiding and abetting thievery was new, even for him. Still, when he saw their faces light up in cautious excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that damned warm, fuzzy feeling that all the books he read claimed existed.

If this was what having friends was going to be like, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this decision for a moment.

Chapter Two

[trainer-from-unova]

summer of love

Ⓢ english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ

ship: robert reynolds x afab!reader

summary: it's summer and bob's birthday is around the corner so the new avengers convinced val to give them a weekend to celebrate his birthday party at the beach. because of your feelings and your strong friendship with him you're the one who organised everything and the one who gifted him more gifts, and one of those gifts it's helping him lose his virginity

au: for plot reasons bob goes to missions but I didn't specify whether he uses his powers to any extent or as a soldier trained by the others

c/w: road and weekend trip, beach and pool episode vibes (from an ecchi anime lmao), topless at the beach, domestic fluff, birthday party, alcohol, drinking games / questions, birthday sex, unsafe piv sex, bob has an oral fixation, biting, nipple play and licking, cunnilingus, face-sitting, masturbation, gentle and rough kissing, virgin!bob, submissive!bob, needy!bob, horny thoughts, praise kink, edging, dacryphilia I guess, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, creampie, friends to lovers, friendship so strong between them that they can joke and laugh during foreplay, third pov, use of y/n (like a lot)

a/n: virgin!bob and face-sitting was a request, and needy and nervous submissive!bob was another one, so I decided to mix them with my ideas: beach episode and birthday party / sex. I don't have experience writing (nor reading) virgin men nor face-sitting nor submissive men / dominant women soooo I tried my best and hope you all like it, also english isn't my first language and for more notes and tags check ao3

word count: 9290

Bob's birthday was around the corner, and pretending they had forgotten to surprise him wasn't an option. ______ knew firsthand how important birthdays were — a before and after, a new beginning. And it wasn't just a celebration of getting a year older, it was a celebration of staying alive. Bob's birthdays (and those of anyone on the team) may not have been joyous in the past, but now he had a family that was glad to have him to celebrate them with.

______ had organised everything weeks in advance, and she was so excited it almost felt like her birthday, but she couldn't help it because she was in love with him. After a lot of begging they managed to get a weekend off all at once, and since it was summer they decided to rent a mansion in the Hamptons on the beachfront for a change of scenery, celebrate Bob's birthday and relax on the beach. Also, since they would probably need them to get around, they decided to go in cars even though going by helicopter or private jet would be faster: ______, Bob, Yelena and Fanny went in one and Bucky, Ava, John and Alexei in another, listening and singing along to the Spotify playlist they all shared, with songs they had all chosen and sometimes also played in the tower while training or doing other things. After about four hours of driving they arrived at the address, were greeted by the owner and took the suitcases out of the cars.

"Be careful with this one, please," ______ asked Bucky as he took one of her suitcases from the boot of the car she'd been in, parked in the courtyard while Bob and the others explored the inside of the mansion. They were probably on the first floor, choosing their bedrooms.

"There's no physiological need to bring so much stuff," said John, nonchalantly hefting some suitcases over his shoulders as they all made their way to the open door to go inside.

"Most of them are presents for Bob," she said in a whisper, slightly embarrassed.

"What did you get him?" asked Alexei, also carrying suitcases on his shoulders.

"The question is, what didn't she buy him?" said Bucky, carrying the suitcase she had indicated as if it was a princess in his arms.

"A little bit of everything, really... I may have overdone it a bit, yeah..."

Maybe then Bob would feel in a bind, wanting to pay her back when it was her birthday, but when it came to thinking and buying the presents she felt they weren't enough, especially considering that being an Avenger she now had plenty of money to spare.

But inside some suitcases she had a lot of snacks, drinks and even ingredients (and Yelena had obviously taken Fanny's feed as well). So they wouldn't have to waste time shopping there, she would make the cake there too, and so as not to waste time cooking they would order food and go to restaurants.

It was around six o'clock on Friday evening when everyone was settled, suitcases unpacked and everything in place, so it was time to start baking the cake, and considering it was a summer Friday the sooner they ordered the better as the food was sure to take a long time to arrive.

"And I'll have a pepperoni pizza," Yelena said finally while Bucky wrote down everything in his mobile phone notes, so that Alexei, who was the one who was going to order by his phone, wouldn't forget anything.

They were all around the kitchen island, and upon hearing his daughter's order Alexei nodded and withdrew with his mobile in one hand and Bucky's mobile in the other to make the call more calmly. Bucky went behind him in case the screen of the mobile was blocked, to unlock it with his fingerprint.

"So who's going to help me bake the cake?" asked ______ as she opened the fridge. There were basic things, like milk and water, that the landlady left for her guests or that others had left before them, so luckily there was no need to go out shopping to make it.

"Me," said Yelena as she went to the drawers in search of utensils.

"And me," said John as he went in search of the aprons where the landlady had said they were.

"Cake?" asked Bob. "Really?" he asked resignedly, since he'd had that conversation with her before and didn't think he needed to repeat it, but deep down he was glad that she was paying so much attention to him for several reasons, among them and above all because he was in love with her. Deep down he couldn't help but smile, a smile that he passed on to the organiser.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm really going to bake you a cake for your birthday?" She asked the same question as she slammed the fridge shut, holding a huge brick of milk in her hands.

"I said I didn't need to," Bob said as she set the milk down on the counter, next to the utensils Yelena was pulling out of the drawers.

"Shhhh, shut up," she said putting the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips as she laughed.

"It's not a proper birthday party if there's no cake, is it?" Ava asked, surveying the scene hunched over the counter while John pulled on an apron.

"If you don't eat the rest of us will eat for you, don't worry," John said half-jokingly but half-seriously as he handed aprons to the girls.

"Yeah, especially him," Ava said to Bob referring to John, since John and the others (including him, even though he was playing hard to get with the cake) were eating like crazy because of their serums.

"Well, then let me help too," said Bob.

"You're the birthday boy, you can't help make the cake," said Yelena as she tied her apron.

"Exactly!" exclaimed ______. "Go to the beach, enjoy yourself," she said to Bob. "Take him," she said to Ava while pointing to the open door towards the beach, and seeing Alexei and Bucky approaching again, she asked them. "Take him."

"Come on, let's go change," Bucky said to Bob, putting his arm around him to walk him towards the stairs. Bob craned his neck to look at ______ resigned but laughing, and she looked at him the same way. Ava and Alexei followed behind them, apart from Alexei reporting that the pizzas would take almost two hours to arrive.

They stood there preparing the cake with a recipe that ______ had saved on her mobile phone, and then the others went downstairs in their swimming costumes with towels in their hands to go to the beach. They decided to make two to make the most of the ingredients, so they wouldn't have to return with them to Manhattan or leave them there, and also so that none (of the men) would go hungry. Luckily it didn't take long, and she and John were left to decorate one of the cakes while Yelena took Fanny for a walk. When they finished they put them in the fridge and then went upstairs to change clothes to go to the beach with the others during the golden hour. When the pizzas arrived they had a picnic dinner on the sand while they watched the sunset overlooking the ocean.

"Can we have cake?" asked Alexei as they packed up and headed into the house for the night.

"The cake is for tomorrow," answered Yelena as they started walking across the sand to the mansion.

"He's not going to blow out the candles" said ______ referring to the birthday boy, in the same position as Yelena, "with the cake in pieces."

"But there are two," reminded Bucky. The truth is, like Alexei, he too wanted to try the cake for once.

"What if I'm in the mood now, too?" asked Bob, trying his luck as he joked, "Can't I even do it?"

"You said you didn't want to," she said playing along in the same tone.

"I said you needn't bother to do it."

"Ohhhh," she exclaimed smiling sideways. "Well... If you want to," she added resignedly. "Only if Bob gives you permission," she said to the others, "they're his cakes."

And then they all looked at Bob, and he gave his approval. They ate the cake they didn't decorate and watched a film of Bob's choice, and then Yelena walked Fanny one last time and they went to bed, because it was still a working day and they had got up early that morning.

The next morning they woke up early as usual, even if they didn't have their alarms set. Their bodies were used to waking up at a certain time, but this way they could take the opportunity to go to the beach early and get a good spot on the shore. Everyone congratulated and hugged Bob on seeing him, Yelena took Fanny for a walk, and Alexei and Bucky went to buy alcohol and more snacks.

It was still early and the day was going to get better in ways he could only imagine in his wettest daydreams, but for the moment the best gift Bob got was the sight of _______ in her bikini. And then, as they settled into their chosen spot on the sand, she took off her bikini top to apply sunscreen to her breasts, as she intended to sunbathe but didn't want to get the bikini mark on her skin or get sunburnt. Part of him didn't want to look, or at least he didn't want to be noticed looking (particularly by her), but he couldn't stop even if he tried — if he didn't look at her bare breasts then his eyes went to her inner thighs. For better or worse John nudged him as he applied sunscreen as well, getting his attention — for a moment he thought he had been inadvertently hit as he rubbed the cream into his skin, but seeing his facial expression he realised it was a predetermined act. With the look he gave him, along with a little smirk, he didn't need telepathy to know what he was thinking. "Look carefully, man." Bucky caught his eye too, he looked the same as John, but he offered him a pair of sunglasses. He knew he wasn't just offering them so the sun wouldn't bother him.

"Thank you," he whispered, embarrassed and blushing as he took them and put them on.

"Aren't you guys going to put sunscreen on?" Ava asked as she put some on as well, looking at Alexei and Bob.

"I want to get a tan," Alexei replied as Ava asked John to help her put it on her back.

"What you're going to do is get burned," Yelena said as she approached him with her jar of cream in hand. "You can also get tanned by putting cream on your back. That's what we do."

While Yelena helped her father cream his back and John did the same with Ava, and correctly assuming that it was only a matter of seconds before ______ asked someone to help her cream her back, Bucky went to the shore with the excuse of testing the water temperature so that the only option at that moment was Bob. He also assumed correctly that even if they didn't know he had done it on purpose they would be grateful with him.

"Can you help me, please?" she said looking at Bob, offering him the cream.

"Uh- Yeah, sure," he replied approaching her, taking the jar in his hand as she turned her back to him.

He poured a good dollop of cream into the palm of his dominant hand, and for a moment he didn't know what to do, or rather where to touch first. If it were up to him he would pull her closer to him, hug her from behind and put his hands on her breasts while spreading her thighs with his leg, but he had to settle for rubbing the cream gently over her back. Good thing he was wearing his sunglasses, and especially good thing she he was on her back, because he couldn't stop staring at how well his hand was gliding down her bare back, from her shoulders to dangerously close to where the only article of clothing she wore was.

"What about you?" asked ______, wondering why he didn't intend to cream himself. "What's your excuse?"

"I have the feeling that the sun can't burn me anymore," he answered.

"But what if it does?" Ava asked.

"The burns are very uncomfortable and painful," said John, "being from Florida you should know better."

"And I'm sure Valentina won't discharge you two for it," said Yelena, including her father.

"You don't lose anything by putting cream on you," said John, "let ______ help you putting it on your back."

Now it was time for them both to be grateful to them, and it was also time for her to rub cream on his back, so when he said he had finished (unfortunately for him, for if it had been up to him he would have been touching her for longer) he handed her back the cream and they changed positions. Even if it was only on his back he loved the feel of her hands on him, and she loved sliding them over his muscles even more.

"It's cold," Bucky warned as he climbed out of the water when he saw Bob approaching the shore.

"Just what I need," he replied as he mindlessly waded into the ocean.

"Yeah," said Bucky, laughing, "it's too hot."

"Thank you again," he said as he turned to watch him walk away to where the others were, and he held up the fist and thumb of his flesh hand.

They spent most of the day there, drinking beers and eating snacks and pizzas from the day before, which they heated up in a moment in the house's oven and microwave. It was in the middle of the afternoon that they went back inside, to wash up and get ready for dinner at a nearby burger restaurant, since that was Bob's favourite food (and if they ordered it out, it was impossible for it to arrive hot and for them to reheat it themselves).

They would have dessert at home, which was the cake that was decorated with a heart and his name, and on it two candles in the shape of the numbers of the years he was celebrating, stuck like the arrow shot by Cupid that he had in his.

Being sung Happy Birthday made him a little nervous, but to him and everyone else because what are you supposed to do during it? Besides all the attention, but at least it was genuine attention from people who did love and care about him, and he was very grateful to have them in his life. He loved them all dearly, but he had a favourite.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" she reminded him, grinning from ear to ear as she recorded it on her mobile phone. He looked at her smiling, then blew out the candles as everyone cheered and clapped.

When everyone went to get their presents he was surprised to see her appear with a pile of presents in her arms, she could hardly fit them and was careful not to drop any of them on the floor.

"Why did you buy me so many?" he asked as he watched her leave them on the table where he was sitting, also confused.

"Oh and wait," said Alexei, "there's more on the first floor."

"I don't know," she laughed nervously and blushed slightly as she unstacked the pile on the table, "I felt there weren't enough of them and I didn't really know what to get you, so I felt that the more I got you the more chances you'd like one of them. Hold on a second," she said holding up the index finger of her dominant hand, "I'll be right back," she said as she turned to head for the stairs to get the remaining ones.

"We're going to be here for half an hour," Ava said half jokingly and half seriously after Bob had opened everyone else's presents first, when it was time to open ______'s presents. Already the table and floor was littered with torn wrapping paper.

"Sorry," she said embarrassed, "you don't need to be here if you don't want to be, so take your drinks out to the swimming pool."

They may not have realised that the other was reciprocating their feelings, but everyone else knew it — it was obvious to the outside eye and they knew that they would rather be alone if possible, even if it was for something like opening presents. Still they all looked confusedly at each other and at Bob, seeking his approval.

"Yeah, no problem guys," he replied.

"Okay," Yelena replied.

And he opened each gift with her sitting next to him, telling her in detail why she had bought him that particular gift, why she thought he would like it or find it useful. He listened delightedly, marvelling at how well she knew him and enjoying her attention and affection.

"It's amazing- You're amazing, I don't know how I can ever repay you for all this."

"Oh don't worry," she said shyly, ducking her eyes to take a quick glance at the two small gifts on her thighs.

Among all the gifts, torn paper and the tablecloth had been easy to hide. She wanted those gifts to be the last ones because they were the most personal. It was a letter and some friendship bracelets that she had made herself, and surprisingly she was more embarrassed to give him the bracelet than the letter, because even though she had written him a cheesy letter it wasn't a romantic declaration of love (although she thought about it, but she didn't feel quite sure and didn't want to steal his protagonism on his birthday).

"Okay, the one I'm going to give you now is the penultimate one... It's stupid, you don't have to wear it if you don't want to for some reason, it's silly, but..." she shrugged, and he obviously realised how nervous she was and wanted to calm her down.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled apologetically as well as warmly, and then took his bracelet and raised both fists, making him have to choose. He touched her left fist with the index finger of his right hand and opened it, revealing an empty palm. Then she hid her hands again and did the same a couple more times, not opening her hand even if he got it right. "Oh come on," he laughed.

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Here you go," she said opening her fist where she had his bracelet, also taking hers on her thighs with her free hand at the same time. "They're friendship bracelets," she said as he took the one she offered him and as she showed him hers.

"Ohhh! It's so cool!" he said as he looked at his, and he wasn't lying or exaggerating. "Let's see yours?" and she held it up to him so he could get a better look. They were both beaded bracelets of various shapes and colours, but Bob's had his name in beads of various shades of yellow and blue and hers had her name in other colours. "What if... I wear yours and you wear mine? I think that makes more sense," he said shyly as he shrugged his shoulders, "so we'll always be there for each other."

"Oh," she said without thinking as the proposition took her by surprise, but she loved the fact that he wanted to wear a bracelet with her name on it and she wanted to wear one with his on it, "yeah, of course," she replied enthusiastically, and they exchanged bracelets and put them on. Bob's was a little big on her, and his was a little small on her, but it was bearable.

"I've never had anything like this done to me before," he confessed with a touch of tenderness as he looked at the bracelet on his wrist.

"I'm glad I'm the first," she said with a smile on her face as she looked at him.

"Really, thank you so much," he thanked her now as he looked at her in the same way he looked at the bracelet on hia wrist, "for everything- Wait- You said it was the second to last one."

"Yeah... It's another cheesy one," she said as she took the envelope on her thighs and handed it to him. "But I don't want you to open this now," she said as he took it.

"Oh come on," he said slightly annoyed again and disappointed as he was looking forward to seeing what it was.

"It's embarrassing," she replied.

"Well... Okay."

"Come on," she said as she stood up and picked up the wrapping paper lying around to roll it into a ball and throw it in the bin, "let's go to the swimming pool with these."

"Well, all right," he said resignedly, and helped her pack up. They took his gifts up to his bedroom, put on their swimming costumes and went downstairs with the others. "Look what ______ made me," he said showing off the bracelet as they approached the others, sitting on sofas and armchairs in the courtyard.

"Ohhh," exclaimed Yelena, "it's very cute."

"In theory he was supposed to wear one with his name on it," she said showing the one she was wearing, "but he thought of swapping them," which surprised no one.

"Probably my favourite- of her presents," the birthday boy quickly clarified, not wanting to make them feel bad, "I still have one left to open."

The swimming pool was bright thanks to the lights and warm from all the sunlight that had hit it throughout the day, but even so, since it wasn't so hot anymore because it was night time, the swim wasn't so pleasant, so between that and the fact that they felt like drinking again, they didn't last long in there. When they had dried off with their towels they sat down again on the sofas and armchairs, this time all of them, and started drinking and chatting. But there comes a point when you run out of topics of conversation, especially considering that they literally do everything together as co-workers and housemates, so they started to play drinking games, asking each other personal questions. At this point it was John's turn to ask Bob.

"Mmm... I don't know," he said as he tried to think of a question. "I don't know," he said with a shrug, "body count?" he said not particularly interested in the answer, it was obviously the first thing that popped into his mind and he settled for it.

"Um... I don't keep count..." he answered shyly, and completely gained everyone's attention, but especially ______'s, who jealously clutched the cup she was holding in her hand tighter without realising it.

"Really?" asked Bucky in surprise.

"Are you a fuckboy?" asked Alexei as ______ raised the cup in her hand to her lips. "And when?" he asked in surprise as they used to keep Bob under control in every way and he didn't get out of the tower much. They didn't generally visualise him being obsessed with girls.

"Wait, fuckboy?" asked the birthday boy in confusion. "I thought you meant assassinations on missions," he said looking at his blond male friend.

"What? No!" said John, "I meant how many people you've fucked."

"Oh, well... None, or at least that I remember," he replied, surprisingly calmer than when he said he didn't keep track (of the murders), but still a bit shy about telling something so sexually intimate (in front of the girl he was in love with), and then, hearing that answer, ______ couldn't help but cough and spit some drink out of her mouth, stealing the attention from Bob and deciding to spit the drink into the soil of a flowerpot she was standing next to.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking totally embarrassed, "it went the other way," and she wasn't partly lying.

They spent some more time there but went to bed early, or at least to lock themselves in their bedrooms. Bob was anxious to open the envelope ______ had given him, and he opened it sitting on his bed by the light of one of the little lamps on the bedside tables beside. When he saw that it was a letter (quite long) he lay down to read it quietly.

By the middle of the letter his eyes were watering, and by the end tears were running down his sides and into his ears, and he wept with joy as he read how much she appreciated him. He read it three times, and even if it wasn't a romantic love letter (although it was rather ambiguous), it was in fact a love letter through and through. He couldn't believe his luck, that day and in general. He had (almost) everything he wanted, and he couldn't wait to express his gratitude, so he put the letter aside and reached for his mobile phone under his pillow.

Bob: You're probably asleep and you'll see this tomorrow

Bob: But I just read your letter

Bob: And I want to thank you

Bob: Right now

Bob: I'm speechless

Bob: If I loved you less maybe I could talk about it more

Bob: I mean

Bob: I'm not implying that you love me less for all that you've written me

Bob: On the contrary!

Bob: Look, I don't know

Bob: You know me

Bob: And I'm really glad you're in my life too

Bob: I wish I could hug you right now

Bob: I love you too

Bob: I love you very much

Bob: Although I feel that those three words alone are not enough to express how much I love you

Bob: Maybe I should write you a letter too

And then he thought that maybe he was already saying too much — he was too emotional and like everyone else he let his guard down emotionally at night (but he couldn't blame it on the alcohol he had drunk earlier, because thanks to the serum it didn't affect him anymore). He wanted to delete the last two messages, but unfortunately it was not possible in that app. And to make matters worse, he saw the "Seen". Instantly he dropped the phone as if it was burning in his hands, leaving it on the mattress and putting his hands to his mouth as he did when he saw John fall down the lift shaft the day he met them. When he saw "Typing..." he quickly removed his hands from his mouth to exit their chat room at the same speed, seeing the messages in the notification bar.

______: I'm glad you liked it

______: 🥹🥹🥹🥹

______: I want my hug 😤

______: Right now!!!!

______: I'm going to your room

______: Give me 30 seconds

He wasn't expecting that, but he wouldn't complain either because it was just what he wanted: to see her, to hug her, to feel her. He quickly wiped his tears and got out of bed and headed for the door, trying to calm down and act as if nothing had happened, and just as she had indicated in the message, in thirty seconds she was there, tapping twice on the door. He opened it and there she was, wearing only a huge shirt (with clearly nothing underneath holding her breasts in place) and a huge smile that infected him. Then she took a few steps forward into the room and closer to him, standing on her tiptoes as he curled up to embrace her once and for all.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, trying not to sound too romantic or desperate, though it didn't really help the way he was holding her: wrapping his arms around her as if his life was at stake, gently yet tightly.

"I love you too," she said tenderly, hugging his bare chest in the same way. He was only wearing a swimming costume because it was clearly hot, but instead of the balcony being open, it was all closed up and the ceiling fan was on full blast.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked worriedly when they parted.

"No, I had my mobile on silent mode and it's impossible for me to fall asleep so quickly, besides I'm not sleepy yet."

"Me too, actually."

And the same idea came up in both of their minds, only she was quicker to formulate it.

"Can I stay here for a while?"

"Sure," he replied as he stepped aside to let her pass, and as she went into the room he closed the door.

"Did you have a good time today?" she asked as she climbed into bed, taking the liberty of lying on her side.

He couldn't help noticing how the pose emphasised her curves and the folds of her shirt.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked as she did the same in the same position.

"I want to hear it coming out of your mouth," she answered with a smile, and as usual she spread it to him.

"I had a great time today, thank you very much."

"Cool. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me for what?" he asked with a laugh.

"For existing, I don't know," she replied shyly as she laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

He knew that at that particular moment she wasn't thanking him for not killing himself in the past, but he knew that in general she was, and that made him happy. Looking at her with tenderness and with his eyes starting to water again another idea popped into his mind, and he dared to formulate it.

"Can you hug me again?"

"Sure," she replied, "come here," she said as she stood up a little to make herself comfortable. Seeing that he didn't really know how to stand she decided to help him with directions. "Put your head on my arm," she said, referring to the arm she (and seconds later he) was using as a pillow. He did as she instructed, bending his right arm and resting his hand on her arm, and shyly placing his left hand on her waist. "Come closer," she said as she did as she had just indicated him, pulling her neck closer to his face and entwining their legs a little.

"Aren't you hot?" he asked, mingling concern with confusion, unintentionally tickling her neck with his voice. That question caused one of her eyebrows and the corners of her lips to rise.

"What do you mean?" she asked now with a small smirk on her lips.

"Because I'm too hot."

"Don't worry," she said as she began to run her fingers through the strands of his hair with the hand on the arm she was using as their pillow, causing the birthday boy to relax, closing his eyes and feeling even happier and calmer.

It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, few things were between them. They were great friends and she was generally a loving person in every way, she hugged him often and they had no problem telling each other that they loved each other despite being in love with each other, but this was the first time they had cuddled like this, late at night and almost naked.

"Bob," she said after a few minutes in comfortable silence.

"Mm?"

"I have... one last present for you," he broke away from her, so that she could see his confused expression and look at her as she spoke. "You can refuse if you don't want to."

"What is it?" he asked, getting more and more confused.

"Sex," she replied. The idea had been on her mind for a little while, but she hadn't had enough alcohol to show complete bravery or make the idea seem crazy the next morning, so her nerves got the better of her as she was brought back to her senses by her friend's surprised facial expression. "I mean- For a moment I thought it would be a good idea because I assumed you'd want to lose it for good and that you'd feel more comfortable doing it with a friend, but seriously," she said nervously, "if you don't want to, it's fine and I understand, no hard feelings."

"Are you sure?" he asked surprised and confused. He was happy too, but it seemed like he was living a dream, and if he really was, he'd rather not wake up.

"Yeah."

"But do you really want to fuck me?"

"Uh- Yeah Bob," she answered, blushing and holding back a nervous laugh.

"Why?"

"Because you're really hot, honestly," or not quite, because she still didn't dare to confess that it was also because she was in love with him, and this wouldn't be a good time to do it if she dared. At that moment she could make the excuse that she just wanted to help a friend having sex with him without having to risk her feelings not being reciprocated, which was partly true, but not entirely. "And because I want to help you and make you happy."

"You don't mind that I'm inexperienced?"

"Of course not," she said confidently, placing the palm of her right hand on his cheek. "In fact," she said, smiling and blushing, "I'm glad to have the chance to be the first," she said stroking his cheek with her thumb. "It means you won't forget me."

"I'm going to need your help...." He said, and instantly felt her rub her knee against his cock, which began to harden as he cuddled with her. "A-And.... I don't know if I can last long..." He said nervously and ridiculously excited, it was already showing in his voice and breathing.

"It's okay honey," she said smiling warmly as she brushed his hair out of his face, "don't worry."

You could say that kissing was like signing the agreement, getting down to business. It was she who moved closer to him, leaning in and breaking what little space there was between them. She didn't know if she was his first kiss too, but she liked to think she was, it made her feel even more special. She took pity on him kissing him slowly, and he played along until they started to get hotter and hotter. Although he moaned as much or maybe even more than she did to her surprise he wasn't a bad kisser, maybe it was beginner's luck.

"Do you want to do it with the light off or on?" She asked with bated breath as they broke apart for lack of air.

"On, I want to see you," he dared to answer in the same state, which brought a smile to her face.

Then she told him to sit on the edge of the bed, getting up to take off her panties and then her shirt in front of him, who watched her in astonishment.

"Aren't you going to undress?" she said pointing to his swimming costume with a clear erection as she approached him, raising an eyebrow and smiling playfully.

"Oh, right," he said nervously as he stood up and pulled down his swimming costume, dropping it to the floor and releasing his erection. Now the only thing they had on were their bracelets, and obviously he felt her eyes on his crotch, her eyes went there as his eyes went to hers and her breasts again.

"Good size."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's perfect," she said to flatter and soothe him (but she wasn't lying) as she moved closer to him, standing on tiptoe and putting her hand back on his cheek and the other on his shoulder, motioning for him to lean in for another kiss, this time more sweetly than passionately. "And all for me," she said before kissing him.

Then she motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed with his legs spread, and he complied, resting his hands behind him. He assumed she would sit on top of his cock, but he shuddered all the same as he felt her sit on his right thigh as they settled in, feeling her wet lips on his skin and her thigh rubbing against his cock in the same way her hard nipples rubbed against his muscular torso. And then, as if that wasn't enough, she began to rub herself against him as she gave him a hickey on his neck and brought her hand to his cock. He tensed unconsciously as he felt her hand wrap around it, and she slowly but firmly stroked up and down and then down and up.

"Oh God-," he moaned without thinking, his breath hitching and his voice trembling. After a pause to try to get used to the sensation he asked, "W-What do I do?"

"Nothing right now, just relax, okay? Let me know if you feel like you're going to cum," she said as she moved to his lips to kiss him again, this time more passionately than before.

He whimpered as his voice choked in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His desperation was palpable, his cock was hot and throbbing. He whimpered at the slightest caress on it and on his thigh, adding some nonsense when their lips were parted, apart from watching hypnotised how her hand move.

Her left hand clung to his right shoulder and wrapped around his back like a normal hug, and he also wrapped his right arm around her waist. Her breath hitched as he did as she slid more and more easily up his thigh as she became wetter and wetter. Also, as she kissed him, she increased the speed of her hand even more as their arousal grew, until he groaned and told her he was close.

"That was... incredible," he said, his breath coming in ragged gasps, resting his forehead against hers.

"Well, it's only just begun," she replied, laughing softly as she stroked his chin with her fingers. "Tell me something you've always wanted to do, some kink you have, I'll fulfill it."

"Uh- I don't know..." He said hesitantly as he pulled away from her, resting his hands shyly on her waist.

"Oh come on, everyone has kinks, and it probably doesn't scare me," she said in an attempt to calm him down. "I don't judge either."

"I'm a little ashamed to say it..." he said shyly.

"I'm not afraid to do a footjo-"

"What!?" he asked confused and surprised, but laughing at the same time. "No, it's not that! Why do you think it's that!?"

"Fuck, isn't it?" she asked surprised but also holding back her laughter as she put her hand to her mouth to cover it.

"No, why do you think that?" he asked again, now desperate to know the answer as he laughed.

"It's like- the most common weird fetish among men," she replied as she shrugged, still with her hand in front of her mouth trying to hide her laughter. "But don't change the subject and tell me, come ooon," she said putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to shake him.

"Okay," he said trying to sound more serious, "but please don't laugh."

"Okay," she replied, and when she was silent she made direct eye contact with him, but her lips were trembling as she tried to hold in her laughter. It felt like when at school the teacher said that the next person who laughed would be punished, you tried to be serious but you'd look at your friend holding in your laughter and it was all fucked up, but this time Bob was both the teacher and friend. "If I laugh it's not because of that!" She hastened to add in her defence as she laughed, her laughter rubbing off on him as he dropped his back onto the mattress. At least thanks to that moment he was already calmer, both emotionally and sexually.

He stretched out an arm to grab a pillow and put it over part of his face. She could see him giggling, but as the smile faded, she, still sitting on his thigh, knew he was getting ready to confess what he wanted to do to her, or rather, what he wanted her to do to him.

"I want you to sit on my face and ride it."

"Oh," she exclaimed, trying to hide her astonishment as she hadn't expected that, but she didn't dislike the idea either, "interesting. Is that why you put the pillow over your face?" She dared to joke, "To get used?"

"Have mercy on me, please," he said as he laughed, half joking and half serious.

"I will," she said more seriously now as she settled herself, sitting on his waist and leaning forward to pull the pillow away from his face, "no problem," she said resting her hands on his shoulders, nodding and with an encouraging smile that she wanted him to see. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of or weird, a lot of men like that too," she said quietly.

"I'm beginning to worry that you know so much about men's kinks," he said again half joking and half serious.

"I had some curious experiences, yeah... But who hasn't?" she asked without thinking.

He. He didn't have any, and when she realised what she had said, which fortunately was quick, she put her hand quickly to her mouth again.

"Fuck- Sorry," she said embarrassed.

"It's all right," he said laughing resignedly as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

"So... Are you sure you want to?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You're going to find it hard to breathe..." she warned.

"It's not like you can kill me."

"That's fair," she said smiling sideways, "all right then," she said leaning down to give him a short but sweet kiss on the lips. "But warn me if you need to stop, okay?" she said as she pulled away from him to change positions, and he nodded.

She was honestly embarrassed to find herself putting her knees to the side of his head and settling down to bring her pussy closer to his face, it was the first time she had ever done such a thing, but she was glad to experience what she was experiencing and to be able to say that in a way he had been her first time too.

But she didn't want to sit down dropping her weight — she was afraid of hurting him with her weight, though she knew that (as well as choking him) was impossible. She made eye contact with his pleading eyes, eyes that were so kind to her that they soothed her, and at the same time also excited her. And all he could see was her, but mostly he only had eyes for her.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath as she slowly sat on his face, slowly adding more and more weight until she was completely on top of him. He began to fuck her with his tongue, straining to move his tongue quickly and do his best. The instant she felt that along with the tip of his nose against her already sensitive clit she moaned and clutched at his scalp, partly for stability as she began to rub herself against him.

The moans of one excited the other, although his could barely be heard as he was crushing the lower half of her face with her pussy. Nothing but the moans of both and the sounds of his tongue licking inside him filled the bedroom (along with the ceiling fan, the only witness in there to what they were doing and which was doing nothing to quench the heat they were feeling). That made her move harder and faster against him, and the more she rubbed his nose against her clit. She felt a little guilty because she knew he couldn't breathe, but she also knew she had nothing to worry about thanks to his powers. And she was close, feeling hotter and hotter inside her, and she desperately rolled her hips on him, showing him no mercy in that regard.

With her head thrown back, her lips parted as she moaned, she arched her back and clenched her toes as the heat building in her belly surged down her body, and she unconsciously tried to pull away from him through the spasms of pleasure she felt in her clitoris. Bob held her thighs tightly in his hands, large palms that shyly and slowly slid to her buttocks, squeezing them needily when they reached them.

When she pulled away from him he felt her orgasm slide down her entrance and drip into his mouth, and then she lay defeated beside him as he wiped his face with his right arm.

"So did I do well?" He asked anxiously for the answer, turning his neck to watch her catch her breath at the same time he did, but with his eyes closed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah yeah," she moaned, still with her eyes closed, not noticing that his eyes were fixed on her breasts. "And you? Are you all right?" She asked as she opened them and craned her neck, moving her arm towards him for physical contact.

"Oh yeah," he replied with bated breath, nodding his head. "Better than ever, thank you," he said laughing nervously and blushing.

"You're welcome," she replied also laughing. She had to laugh, the situation was surreal but she was loving it.

"Um- Can I touch your tits...?" he asked shyly, trying to look her in the eyes and trying to avoid looking at them, but failing in the attempt.

"Touch anywhere you want honey, I'm all yours," she said smirking. "Come here," she indicated with her index finger, and he obeyed putting his knees at her sides and sitting on her, careful not to drop his full weight so as not to hurt her. Trembling he brought his hands to them, at last touching what he had wanted to touch all day and for months.

"Oh God," he said in awe, his breath hitching as he squeezed them, "they're so soft... And so beautiful..." he said mesmerised as he leaned down to get much closer to them, and as an idea popped into his mind he looked up, "Can I suck them...?"

She didn't even answer, she just grabbed him by the back of the head with her dominant hand and put his face in them. He rubbed his face against them and in the cleavage, and then, while squeezing one he did everything with the nipple of the other: kissing, biting and pulling, licking and sucking... — not necessarily in that order, he just did what he felt without thinking, moving from one action to another when he got tired of one, and the same from one tit to the other. Now that he had the chance to touch her exactly where he wanted to he wasn't going to waste it.

"Bob..." she moaned as she lifted his chin, wanting to get his attention and make him look at her. Their hungry gazes connected, even though his hair was falling messily down his face and saliva was running down his chin. "Kiss me," and as usual he obeyed, and their lips met again, as did their saliva and tongues. "What else do you want me to do?" She asked when they broke apart for lack of air.

"Fuck me, ride me," he begged, "please," he said as he pulled back from her and lay down on the bed.

He watched nervously but anxiously as she settled down on top of him and took hold of his cock to finally push it slowly inside her. Bob really wanted to see his cock disappear inside her, he had daydreamed about it many times, but the instant he felt its tip enter her wet entrance he had to throw his head back, whimpering and clutching at the mattress as if his life depended on it, clutching even tighter and panting with every inch he entered her.

"Are you okay my love?" She asked as she sat fully on top of him, not because of the weight but because of his condition. Bob's was a little big on her, and she was a little small on her, but it was bearable. She knew he could handle it, but she wanted to make sure.

"Yeah-" he moaned, loosening his grip on the mattress.

"Yeah," she said smirking, "you look very good..." she said as she scanned his muscular abdomen, the same one she'd longed to touch in the morning as she placed her hands on his lower half.

"Oh fuck-!" he moaned as he felt her start to move, and even if it was slow he gripped the mattress tightly again as she held the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips where she had a playful smile, meaning that it was better if the others didn't hear them. "Fuck- Sorry- But you feel- God-"

"Don't be sorry," she said still smiling in the same way, "I love to hear you like this," she said as she grabbed his hands and put them on her waist. "Touch me like you're creaming me again," and he obeyed trying to do his best while trying to stay sane and silent, watching in front of him her tits with his saliva traces and his hands sliding up and down and up and down, from her tits to her buttocks.

"Fuck- You feel so good-" he moaned, trying to keep it to a whisper. "Both inside and out... I-I don't think I'm going to last long..."

"Not yet honey, come on," she moaned, "you can do it, I know you can. Do it for me, okay?" she pouted as she wiggled. "Be a good boy and cum when I tell you to."

"P-Please..." he whimpered, tightening his grip on her buttocks. It was definitely going to leave marks, but she wouldn't complain and would wear every bruise and scratch like badges of honour.

"Wait, I assure you, it's better to cum at the same time."

Surprisingly he obeyed again. She thought that by picking up the pace he would cum instantly, but he endured it well, and clearly let him know it by saying that he was taking her very good. Luckily for him she didn't have long to go before she was at the same point as he was — it seemed like his cock was made for her, and to be honest, it was making her too hot to see how he was on the verge of tears as he felt so much pleasure thanks to her.

Hearing her moan his name between compliments as they made eye contact while bouncing on top of him was the last straw, literally. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, thinking it would stop the sobbing, the moaning, and above all the orgasm coming out of him, but it was no use. He didn't have time to warn her, but neither did she. The sensation of her wet walls pulsing around him, just as his cock throbbed inside her as he filled her was too much. Unconsciously, as he felt both his body and hers go into spasms he gripped her waist tightly again as when she was on top of his face.

There was no turning back now, she could proclaim his virginity and what was the best orgasm of his life. Although he knew it would feel better than using his hand he didn't imagine it would feel that good. He was thankful he was lying down, because he ended up exhausted (although he guessed correctly that he would soon recover all his energy, also thanks to the serum). And he wasn't the only one, but she still slowly rocked her hips back and forth, wanting to enjoy him until the last few seconds before she was separated from him.

"God," he sighed, "that was... wonderful," he said as he let go of her hips and she stood up, pulling away from him, "thank you so much. Uh- Did you have fun?" he said as he craned his neck to watch her, watching as she sat in the gap between his legs and let out his semen mingled with other fluids.

"Bob, I've cum twice," she said pointing to her entrance, and as he heard her answer and saw all that came out of her he blushed, but most of all he felt happy and proud of himself, "what do you think?" she asked smirking, a smile that infected him.

"I wanted to make sure," he answered as she approached him awkwardly, her knees giving out from riding him so much one way or the other.

"But you didn't cum when I told you to," she said as she dropped down beside him, laying on her side as she was at first.

"Did you? I think you were more busy cumming on my cock," he said as he got into the same position as her, and the instant she heard that she gasped and had to hold a laugh at the same time.

"How dare you...!?" she asked totally surprised. "I'll have to punish you for double," she said playing along.

"Whenever you want," he said, and they both leaned in for a kiss, short but sweet as their smiles relaxed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already are."

He would take that as a "Yes".

"Um... Your letter is very romantic, and always but especially this weekend you've been very... attentive and affectionate with me," seeing where he was going the young woman's face became more serious, "and I was wondering if... you're in love with me, because sometimes I get that feeling but sometimes I also think I'm delusional..."

"What makes you doubt that? Apart from the obvious," she said referring to his low self-esteem due to his depression and traumas.

"I remember a few months ago I said I liked short skirts and soon you started wearing a lot of them, but it could also be because it was getting hot," he said smiling nervously but hopefully, and now he was the one who spread the smile to her.

"It was because of you," she laughed defeatedly, nodding slightly with her eyes closed. She could no longer escape or deny it, but after what they had done she felt hopeful and it wasn't a bad time to confess it once and for all. "It's all because of you, Bob," she said as she opened them, looking up at him with a tender gaze.

"You make me the happiest man in the world," he said grinning from ear to ear as he rose to get on top of her, kissing her face full of kisses as she giggled with a blush. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said as she laughed and placed her hands on his cheeks before kissing him again.

"I can't believe the candles' wish came true so fast," she said as she put her hands on his shoulders.

"Was it me?" she asked surprised but happy.

"Yeah, you — to have you all to myself once for all."

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

post credit scene:

"Hey, now that I think about it, what kinks do you have?" Bob asked when the room was quiet and dark after taking a cold shower, trying to sleep once and for all.

"Good night my love," she replied with a laugh.

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

You find common ground with the Marks- getting a little too comfortable in the process. Across the desert, plans are made.

Past child abuse. NSFW. (Not related, Jesus)

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [16]  [18]

17 * Rendezvous [10.3k]

"I ain't even saved your number

So no, I can't reply to no text,

I make him cry 'bout the pussy,

Probably why my shit so wet."

Cry Baby - Megan Thee Stallion (ft. DaBaby)

        Gray fought the urge to stand closer to you, instead opting to keep watch of the horizon until the others returned. They did, minutes before Tracksuit asking where he was. Neither of you told them to suck it, because that felt a little on the nose. Tracksuit returned, grumbling something about his stomach. 

        Gray took of before Tracksuit could get his bearings, knowing the way better than Tracksuit after Maskless relayed the directions. Tracksuit bitched and moaned as he took to the sky. Gray ignored him because being near you like a magnet for desire that still roiled in his stomach. Nothing was as boner-killing as Tracksuit rattling on about his bathroom trip as they flew.

        Gray found Mark's body under six feet of sand. The stuff dried to him like horrible glitter glue. His heart was still in hand, fingers clutching so hard it punctured in multiple places. He was stiff and cold, flesh starting to sink in with rot.

        With all the dried bug carcasses, he could smoke all of Mark in hours instead of days like Emperor. He set up a station in what used to be your old home. It'd keep the heat well.

        Tracksuit helped. Mumbling about how fucked up it was the whole time despite his actions, because eventually the bugs would run dry. They needed emergency food. 

        He made Tracksuit swear not to tell you. Though if they ever had to turn to the backup, you'd know right away where it came from. 

        ***

        Omni returned diligently to your side. Listening to your spiked heart rate, watching your reddened face, how your eyes avoided his. He chalked it all up to more crying, you poor thing.  

        He spoke first, watching the fire, trying to see what you saw in your memories.

        "I'm impressed by what you built down there." Your home. Your hamster hut. Your shitty bug furniture. Shared with Mark. You suck in your lips and he knows he's said the wrong thing. You didn't need empty platitudes, you needed connection. The thing you so clearly had with Mark. So apparent in the single, well-worn cot, the lingering smell of soup and sex. "I was young when I first developed my powers." 

        Markus was up to bat. Missed once, twice, then hit the incoming baseball so hard it knocked the pitcher off his feet and broke three of his ribs. It was chalked up to a freak accident but Nolan knew it wasn't. It was everything he had been waiting for, he was so proud. Took Markus and Debbie out to ice cream after insincerely apologizing to the parents of the kid his son just hospitalized. Markus remembers laughing at the ice cream shop, the smile on his dads face. It was one of the last times he ever felt normal. 

        Training began right away. School shoved aside, play dates ignored, his weekends bowling with mom gone for good. Dad didn't go easy on him just because he was a child. In hindsight, his training was harder at the beginning compared to when he got older. Back then, he didn't follow orders as well. He misunderstood things, wasn't strong enough to withstand villains or the beatings that'd come if he failed to take down the bad guy of the week. But he learned overtime, getting hit was better than staying in the room. 

        A few months into his training, he'd fucked up big time. Was too slow and let an elderly couple get smashed by a car some rouge giant mutant threw. Instead of going after the mutant, he lifted the car in a desperate attempt to save the man, who's screams he could hear. Except the weight of the car was keeping the blood inside his crushed body, and when he lifted it with an apology, he bled out in front of Markus's eyes. So fast there was no chance of saving him. Not the first death he'd seen, not even close, but he remembered it for what came after.

        Debbie had introduced Nolan to the idea of a timeout when Markus was a toddler refusing to eat his veggies. Stay quiet, keep your head in the corner, don't move. It was a very human punishment, suitable to his son without powers. Viltrumite children did not misbehave the way Markus did, for fear of a beating, or just the fear of being perceived as weak, to be culled. Nolan knew Markus would never understand that pressure being raised on Earth, so he had to raise the stakes, punishment would have to match his son. So he shoved Markus into the downstairs coat closet, told him to face the wall and not move until he came back. Then he shut the door. Didn't come back for hours. 

        The house had gone quiet. Markus was well-behaved, but this was ridiculous. Dad knew it was an accident. He surely didn't mean for him to be in the closet so long. It was an accident the punishment went so long. Those people were dead forever and that sucked but it wasn't Markus's fault for trying to save them. Honest mistakes happen all the time! When he opened the door, it was night. He saw Dad right away with his eyes adjusted to the dark. Sat still on the couch, a travel booklet open in his lap.

        "I told you to stay." Dad was in front of him in an instant. Chest to Markus's nose. The threat of violence in his stillness. "You want to be like me, don't you?" He nodded though he was scared shitless and really had to pee but didn't know how to say it. "Then you need to learn to truly reflect on your mistakes."

        "Dad-"

        He shut up when Dad's fist balled. He wanted to be like him so, so very badly. He also wanted out of the closet. He also didn't want to get hit again. He decided then to look at it as training, and not as something that made him feel cracked and incomplete, if this was the only way, so be it. Markus shut the door and faced the wall for three days.

        Debbie found him while looking for an old kerchief to wear to an open house. She blindly believed Nolan when he said Mark was staying at William's house for the weekend. Piss reek on all the coats despite being dried in his pants. She tore Nolan a new one the best she could, but he quieted her. He never hit her but he held things over her neck like a guillotine. "Debbie, you need to understand. Viltrumite children are different, stronger, he can take it."

        "Nolan, he's eight."

         "Which is early for powers, yes, but there's no better time to set him on the right path. What I'm doing is a good thing. Markus neeeds to be prepared to do whatever it takes to keep the planet safe." His voice was placating, easy. They'd had this conversation a hundred times and Nolan always won.

        But Debbie still tried, less as time wore on, but still tried nonetheless. "Can't you go a little easier on him?"

        "Do you want Earth to be blown up by a metor if I'm not around to stop it? Or alien invsation or mind control? I can't be everywhere at once."

        "There's other heros to-"

        Nolan held up his hand to quiet her. "They're only human."

        "Only human?" She was insulted. 

         "Yes, Debbie, only human. You'll never understand what it's like for us. What we are. As a Viltrumite, I know better than you. I know whats best for the planet. You know how to sell a house. Who do you think is more fit to raise our boy to be who he wants to be?"  Markus had begged for training all his life. Lay anxiosly awake at night, worring if he'd never get his powers. 

Debbie didn't try much longer, like she should've, she let him steamroll her. All she did for Markus was buy him enough time to change clothes, to go to the bathroom but not clean up. Nolan had him back in the closet while he took his mother to bed where they argued. Markus could hear their rising voices through the walls. Superhearing not developed enough to parse out the words. The yelling gave way to the apparent sounds of sex. There was nothing else to hear, to focus on. 

         It was Dad who got the say when he was let out. While he sat in the dark his fathers face had morphed into a monster in his mind, an unfamiliar hatred that choked out the rest of his senses. He wanted to yell at him, to hit the thing that was keeping him in there. But when Nolan opened the door and put a hand on his shoulder, it was just his father. He was so overwhelmed and so grateful he hugged him. Nolan hugged him back, saying, "I'm sorry I had to do that, son." 

        It happened again. He made less mistakes as he got older but they still happened. Nolan would take him to the closet, sometimes silently sometimes with violence. Markus tried leaving multiple times over the years. Dad would find him immediately or some time later, sometimes goading him back to the closet, sometimes beating him so bad he had no choice but to be carried back. And there he sat. Stewing. Becoming steelier than his father in the dark. Always aspiring to be like Nolan but thinking to himself, if he had a son he'd do different. He'd be better. He'd look better in red and white instead of that silly blue-yellow color scheme Art picked out for him. 

        "I know what isolation can do to someone," Omni said.

        Killing Dad was a lot easier than he'd thought it'd be. He'd placed him on such a high pedestal he didn't notice how thin the supports were. But that wasn't the point. This was about the things you shared, not his love-hate fueled parental double homicide.

        Yet you looked at him like he'd emphasized how he'd beat his father's head in after snapping mom's neck. You looked up at him, a whisper on your lips, "What the fuck?"

        He had expected that reaction. You'd given him a similar one before. Except by the time that happened, you'd been together for years and put things a little less vulgarly. He'd always thought it was strange, how you cried to him about the death of his parents. He told you it was an attack. An old arch nemesis, a flimsy story, really, but you'd believed him because with him, you knew he always knew what was best. He could still remember the horror on your face when you found out what he really was. This time around, he'd be more honest from the get go. The more you understood him, the more he understood you. 

        "Dude, if that's your idea of flirting you suck," Tracksuit said, back to you both lying on the floor trying to sleep.

        It wasn't said exactly, but neither party was willing to leave you with the other. So they stuck around under the tent, waiting for the cool but not overly hot morning to move the tent closer to Tracksuit's and Maskless's expansive concrete estate. 

        Despite what Tracksuit said, you had leaned on Omni's side halfway through the story. Relating to some things and being horrified by the rest. Hating that you felt bad for him, that you could see a kid Markus alone in the dark and feel only horror at the idea. Hating that you needed to feel his body heat, how you couldn't stop yourself from melting into it. Hating that you needed to hear a story of someone else burned in the dark. His story, life, was worse, to the point where you wanted to apologize for making him talk about it, but you don't.

        Instead, you give him want he wants, what a stupid part of you needs, "Thanks... Markus." You can't look at him. Won't. Don't want to see what the name does to him- send a flush of memory to his cheeks and a glint to his eyes. "Even if that was a super fucked up time in your life." You think about telling him about the first time you killed someone. Not first blood for Machine Head, but the real first time. The accident. 

        "Of course, my dove." His arm loosely snakes around your waist, holding your body closer.

        Tracksuit's head whipped around. Pissed at you but nosy. The last time he heard that name you were crying it out. And since when were you on a pet-name basis with that daddy-loving freak? He found Markus's head pressed to your (hair/scalp), not quite kissing you but not not kissing you. Nose twitching as he inhaled your sweaty, desert scent. Ew. He flipped back around.

        You knew what you were doing. Trying to get closer to Markus to fill the Mark shaped hole in your wounded heart. The guilt of it hits you, dizzying and harsh. 

        "Don't call me that." You said though it had made your gut pleasantly twist. To be loved is to be changed and Mark loved you so much in those two weeks despite what he did to you. You hated the way it changed you. Here was Markus, offering up love on a silver platter with no secret side dish of being locked away and going insane. 

        The skip of your heart says you're a liar who likes the name but he placates you, "Would you rather I call you something else?"

        His lips move against your (hair/scalp), his voice low and teasing, sending a pleasant tingle down your spine and straight to your still aching cunt. It'd been hours since you'd sucked Gray dry and you wanted more. When Markus had returned with Maskless, him and Gray took to the sky. You had no idea if he told but guessed not with how surprisingly chill Markus was with his presence. If you told him, you'd ruin things, but you'd get the pleasure of hurting his stupid feelings.

        You make the decision that's not best in the long haul, but for now, "My name is just fine."

        ***

        Gray waited in the sky. Hands behind his back, still slick with sweat. Heart rate slowed, an unusual relaxation in his shoulders that he tried to offset by being extra rigid. Cock still wet with your saliva. Luckily, the wind made his kilt flutter forward a degree, hiding the mild arousal that'd repossessed him. 

        You were down there. Small with distance. Content, with no idea that you'd taken his world view and flipped it around and around. Before he was fighting for a reason to care, unsure of why he was still fighting to survive. But the care you'd shown him, how easily you could unwind him and fill him with such new uncertain feelings was more than enough. One thing was for certain, procreation without actually procreating was much better than he had ever envisioned. He wanted to do it again and again and again. Any and every way you could teach him. He fantasized about things he never gave thought before. Remembered the slivers of your skin he'd seen and shivered. 

        He wasn't just surviving for the Empire now. He was surviving for you and your vicious tongue. For the chance to fill you with love and his... oh. Jesus, that was uncouth. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. If you'd like it. The sounds and faces you'd make. The-

        "You wanted to speak to me?" Markus lifted into the sky behind him. 

        Gray didn't turn. Hard on too apparent even in the wind. "Your mate attempted to convince me to take her to the others while you were gone." He kept his tone mild.

        Markus crossed his arms, "And how did she do that?" 

        He should tell the truth. Lies would cause problems in a situation like this but he felt so much closer to you having a secret. Plus his allyship with Markus was new, he couldn't risk it, not now. Not if it meant losing you. Gray just had to hope you'd also keep your mouth shut.

         "We spoke at length," he said, "She tried to use her powers but she's drained. From what I've observed, it may take until her leg heals for her to be at full potency. We should plan for that." A gnawing, horny part of him said fuck it. Take her along. Kill the others. More blowjobs for him. Blowjobs for a job well done. More food for him. Food for a job well done. Both animal cravings the desert brought out in him.

        "I see," Markus said. 

        Gray had been shot at by alien ray guns. Been cursed, beat, trained by one of Viltrum's elite. He kept himself cool and steady to a T. He felt Markus could see right through him, had to school his heart rate and breathing. He was sure he'd win the fight if it came to that, but there'd be repercussions surrounding you he wasn't ready to face- not after you'd recently grown so affectionate. 

        "Her leg will be healed in about a week." Gray added. 

        Markus nodded to himself. "So we have a week to convince her to not try and kill herself for nothing." Not a lot of time considering how stubborn you'd proved to be. Refusing to die in those caves, taking one of them down despite your affections for him. 

        "I say we have a week to train her until we all go to kill them," Gray said, watching the man over his shoulder. Was the idea too unlike himself? Would Markus know what had transpired?

        Markus was quiet a moment. Gray took it as suspicion until he said, "They could kill us too." Though Markus loathed to admit it. "Kill her to get at us. It's too dangerous." But so were they. They'd spot you eventually. "But I agree. Something must be done about them, sooner rather than later. I don't want her involved."

        Why not? She's an asset. Gray thought, before his dick caught up to him. No post-battle reward if you were dead. It was his turn to say, "I see."

        ***

        The days went by in a molasses blur. The tent was moved beside the concrete runes that was Maskless and Tracksuit's base. Simply so there'd be no quarrel about where you'd be and who with- you were with them, at their shared base, all the time. They kept to their original bases and you floated between them. 

        Skirting the days by in agony as your bone knit itself back together. Turns out humans didn't have speed-healing for a reason- it hurt like a motherfucker. You'd used the last of your codeine to dull the pain, but it barely scratched the surface. So most of the time you just laid down wherever was coolest, and wondered when you were going to join Mark in death.

        The pain wasn't all physical, being nearly bed ridden left you with lots of time to think about him. It shouldn't hurt so bad, him being gone. You hadn't really known him all that long. You lived together for two weeks and the affection had started to turn to a boiling hatred. But you got to live and he didn't. His only crime was not joining the empire, oh and mass homicide on your version of Earth but still- you felt like the shittier person. He killed for you, you killed because some robot asshole told you to.

        You were starfished on Markus's cot, recovered from the cave ruins under the tent shade. Hot, but hydrated enough to sweat. Stripped to the soldier's underthings. Leg no longer splinted, bone mostly healed but still, it hurt to walk.

        "What are thinking about?" Markus. Ever since he told you about himself, you'd started calling him the name like he'd been calling you yours. He liked it. A lot. You hated how much he liked it, but liked that somebody liked something you were doing. You just wanted to feel loved again. Not by him necessarily, but he kept hand feeding you affection like you were some skittish horse.

        Markus had you practice using your powers every day. Never as long or hard as Gray would like but it was compromise to not using power at all. Tracksuit or Maskless were often your unwilling subjects, paid in extra bug meat. You were getting better by the day, stronger as your leg healed.

       Gray was down in the caves doing something. He wouldn't tell you what. Maskless was down there with him, sifting through the ruins of the hatchery. Last you saw Tracksuit he said he was going to nap in his hammock- the map turned cloak he demanded you give back days ago. You did, though you bickered back and forth. Blooming friendship soured by his jabs and you making him literally jab himself. You missed the normalcy he brought, but you were also pissed at him. You were pissed at everything, all the time. So was he. The desert made bitches out of both of you.   

        Back to Markus. You wanted a few things from him. For him to take you to Phantom. For him to help you ease the pain in your leg and your heart. You could get all that and more if he would just, "Come here." You reached up for him, hovering over your bed. In the past few days you'd allowed him to hold you. It left you with a swirling contradictory roster of feelings. 

        He obeyed, coming closer until your arms could snake around his back. Tugging at him. He smiled. Thinking finally, you were returning his affections, molding into the sweet thing he wanted you to be. He'd been fine just holding you while you sat or laid there like a corpse, but he'd been yearning for your reciprocation. 

        For awhile, you let him hold you. You made no sound, didn't doze. Just lay with your eyes open, face pressed to his chest listening to his beating heart. Thinking about Mark. Thinking that if he wasn't so... You closed your eyes. You couldn't start thinking it was Mark's fault. Wouldn't. But if he had just held on, let you dig you both out...

        You couldn't think anymore. You pulled back from Markus's chest, looked into his face. Calm with a slight wrinkle of worry in his brow. "My-"

        You kissed him. Trying to recoup yourself in it, to not feel the overwhelming void. You feel his stubble scratch against your jaw and reach your hand up to trace along it. You feel needy and when he tenses and kisses back you feel wanted, vindicated. You go back and forth, slow and steady wins the race- and gets your motor humming. He welcomed your tongue into his mouth, practically rolled out the red carpet. He was all too happy to help you feel needed, wanted.

        Through the rolling of tongues and sighs, you could still remember Mark, feel the rebar digging into your skin and his arms around your waist. You needed something more. Your hand left his cheek, trailing down his chest until you found a semi on the soft side. 

        He was gone from you all at once. Standing on his knees on the edge of the cot. You followed him, lifting onto your elbows, face flushed and lips buzzing. Whining, "Why'd you stop?"

        You looked so much like her. Chest heaving, eyes wanting, splayed on the bed under him begging for more. He wanted to give it to you but not like this.

        "I don't think you're ready." He knew the only reason you let him cling to you was Mark's death. It stung, but he was grateful. Knew you'd eventually stick around because you liked him for him, not that dead boy. Only when your heart had healed and you were wanting, would he make love to you again.

        "For sex? I think I am." You'd been thinking about how good it'd felt to suck Gray off for days. Gray had been avoiding you but seemed to have told nobody of your rendezvous. You missed how getting eaten out by Mark felt. Fingers stretching out your cunt. You ached for something more. Something thick and mind-erasing, even for a little while. Felt guilty about it, felt not-guilty, then guilty all over again.

        Markus frowned as you sat fully upright. Hands reaching for his waist. He leaned back, "You're still grieving and hurt."

        But you were insistent. Hurting so much in the stillness, the broken leg and your mind eating at you. You needed this. "Gray gave me the okay to walk yesterday. Why don't we set that back a little, yeah?" 

        He shook his head and completely floated out of range. "Don't use my love for you to hurt yourself." You didn't rise to follow. Knew it'd be a fruitless endeavor. 

        You scoffed still, rejection stung. "Sex wouldn't hurt me."

        He rose a brow. Remembering how you enjoyed him manhandling you. Remember how your attitude had started to shift after he fucked you. Sex changes things, though he doesn't bring it up. "I'm sure we'd enjoy it, yes, but I don't want you to regret it afterwards." 

        "I won't." 

        You didn't love him enough yet. You hadn't dropped Mark from your mind.

        "You will." He said. You fixed him with a look but you both knew he's right. "I appreciate the... offer but I think it's best to wait." He moved back toward the edge of the tent. Thinking about fucking you till you begged him to stop. Feeling himself twinge with excitement but his mind was stronger than his body. "I'm going to check on the others. I'll tell you if they've found anything."

        With that, he was gone. Fighting himself to leave you but knowing it'd pay off in the end. You wouldn't see him as some fuck buddy, he was to be your husband. 

        You were alone. Unsatisfied. Needy as hell. Pissed. Needed someone to rant to, a little normalcy. Needed to feel like you were talking to Mark at the very beginning of things. Him and his cocktail sauce jokes.

        You trudged to the other base where the only other person you could talk to was.

        The concrete remains were shaded but sweltering. The hammock ends were stuffed into cracks in the wall like they used to be before Maskless tore them out, unsecured and unsurprising when Tracksuit fell out of it, again. He swore as he got up off the ground, trying to fix the damn thing and take his nap. He was tired of sand, of this fucking place and everything that came with it. He heard the crunch of your boots, another thing he hated about the desert. "Didn't hear the other guys makin' food so wha'dya want?"

        You leaned against the bare window frame watching his back flex as he worked, trying and failing to shove the fabric back where it used to be.

        "That's not going to work." You thought of Mark trying to help make the buggy furniture. His hands were big and clumsy, you ended up making most of it.

        He scoffed. "You come'ere just to tell me that?" He crawled into the freshly hung hammock, which instantly fell. He bristled as he thrashed in the sheet, saw you still watching and hissed catishly, "Fuck off!"

        You left to his relief, only to come back a few minutes later. You walked slowly, mostly leaned to your good leg. You were determined to walk on your own, with no more sad looks from Gray or Markus. "Here." You re-entered the room, holding your rebar crutch. "Use this as a stake." 

        In the time you were gone he tried three more times with zero success. "Oh yeah, cuz I can hang a hammock off one thingy." He snatched the crutch out of your hand anyways. 

        You watched him look around. Considering sticking it in the sand but remembering it wouldn't hold. You suggested, "Stick it in the wall. Tie the other half to that." You point to a rusty spike of metal jutting out of the ceiling. You'd had to be resourceful in the cave, with Mark.

        Tracksuit grumbled but listened. Shoving the rebar into the wall, sending cracks along it, making you worry the wall would crumble and ceiling would come down but the rebar held. He tied one end to it, then the other to the spike you pointed out. He gently, slowly, laid himself down. Tensed for the inevitable fall but it didn't come. "Hm."

        "You're welcome." You said, not your normal biting tone.

        "Didn't say thank you." He bit back.

        "I know." 

        He waited for you to leave but you didn't. "Thought you came over cuz you were all like, annoyed at the sound of me falling n' shit. You jus' gon watch me sleep or something?"

        "No."

        He spun, back facing you. He slipped his mask off his face. Hot as all hell under the fabric. "Then piss off, I'm trying to sleep." 

        "Is it really that hard to not be a dick to me?" You snapped. Deep down you missed that asshole you smoked with. You needed a friend. You couldn't see him now, just another back turned. You can almost imagine Mark in the end- despite the hair.

        "I dunno, is it really that hard to not be a huge bitch when every guy in the desert is slobbering over your pussy?" 

        "Excuse me?" You had power again. You could make him hurt. You wanted to rebuild the bridge you burned but... God, he was such a dick.

        "If I were you, I'd be all for it. Like, you can't do shit but sit around, so why not ease the tension a bit and pass yourself around?" 

        He didn't mean it but he was mad. Missing Rex, missing home. Missing when he didn't have to hear about you and see you every fucking day. You got to eat good in a cave while he starved in the sun, got to cum as much as you wanted with an endless roster of boyfriends but abstained for some fucking reason. 

        He heard your footsteps coming closer but didn't move. He knew you couldn't hurt him but was wary of you controlling him. He hadn’t considered you could untie the hammock from the crutch and let him fall on his ass. It didn't hurt but it did well making him angry. He snarled up at you from the floor, unmasked, feeling naked but he didn't lunge for the cover. Thought it'd make him seem weak in front of you. "Fuck was that for?"

        You knew under the fabric he was Mark, but seeing his face for the first time felt like a hot slap. He was Mark with thicker brows, one of them slit. He was Mark with a more bent nose bridge, a bull ring septum, and a cheek dermal. He was Mark with longer lashes and a scowl that said he hated you. Mark would could grow facial hair, stubbly and spotty as it was. Seeing his face made your gut twist painfully and balloon with butterflies. You had wanted to reply, to tell him he was being a cunt but your throat was dry.

        Tracksuit saw the hesitation in your eyes and went for the kill. He stood fast, forced his face into yours grinning. "Aww, lose ya nerve when you saw this sexy mug?"

        You didn't back down, pointing at the cheek piercing, "You look ridiculous." Though you thought it looked sexy.

        "Tch. Yeah right. You're like- biologically down for all this, sweetheart." The pet name came out as an insult. 

        "I don't fuck losers." You leaned in, challenging him back. 

        "Really?" His breath was hot on your lips, "Could've had me fooled."

        You snarled. "Step off." 

         Even though you were in his place, standing over his fallen hammock. Even though you could make him with your powers but you don't. 

        "You first." He said.

        You'd been down this road before. Knew where it led, but you stood your ground. Waited for it to happen.

        Both of you stared nto each other’s eyes, yours so pretty, his light and amber. Anger electric between you. You don't remember who looked at whose lips first. Just that someone did and lips and teeth collided shortly after. You had him by the collar, pulling him violently close. He gripped you hard by the waist. Tongues already in each other's mouths. Growling like animals. Biting but never hard enough to bleed.

        As the kiss moved, so did your bodies. He pushed your back rough into the concrete wall, pressing himself fully into you. Warming your already overheated body. Pressing his quickly growing arousal to your thigh. You moaned into his mouth, heat pooling between your legs. 

        He sensed it. Moved his hands from your waist to your hips, forcing your legs up, making your thighs hook around his hips. The sound you made when his clothed arousal pressed to yours, a harsh gasp, only made him harder. He snickered against your lip, grinding into your core. "You fuckin' like that?"

        This was a terrible idea on both your parts but neither of you stopped. Tracksuit needed a proper release after starving in the desert and You needed a distraction from the grief. Both of you got something out of this. 

        "Hate it." You said against his lips, slick with your spit before you kissed him again. Body moving with his, dry humping each other like dogs against the wall.

        He's touchy. Hands slipping under your shirt to paw at your tits. Kneading them harsh in his hands. Savoring how it made you gasp into his mouth. "Not such a bitch now, huh?"

        He was Mark, but sounded nothing like Mark when he talked. It was the accent, the cocky attitude. Part of you wanted to pretend it was Mark making you feel good. Another part wants you to remember its Tracksuit. Mark was dead, couldn’t make you feel good anymore, move on.

        You can't make up your mind so you tell him to, "Shut the fuck up."

         You escape his lips and go for his throat. Not bothering to kiss down the column of skin, going right to sucking and biting. His hips cant against yours, pressing delicious friction to your core. 

        "Yeah," He gasps, "Yeah, just like that."

        "What did I just say?" You bite him again. This time he doesn't comment, only groaning as he grinds into you.

        He doesn't expect it when you say, "Get off of me."

        He listened, not because you used your powers. but because his mind came back to him. Thinking, 'oh shit, I'm so dead, the others came back and heard and I'm sooo fucked.' He listened, looked out the broken windows and saw no one. 

        "Blue ballin' me, seriously?" He tried to sound pissed but he only sounded desperate. He only stepped back a few feet. He was faster than you. Could so easily pin your back to the wall and fuck you into it. He doesn't because he's not Scars. You're a person to him, despite much of an asshole as you were.

        You gave him an annoyed look. "I can't take my pants off like that." 

        Oh. Oh!

         He shifted on his feet, ready to tear your pants off rather than wait for you to pull them down. His head (not the lower one) stirred. "Wait a sec. Are you trying to get me killed right now?"

        You didn’t stop undoing your pants buttons. "They're all out right now. We've got time."

        His mind went blank when you started wiggling your hips to get out of the pants. God Damn. His head stirred, that one this time. "They catch us, I'm dead."

        "You're dead once we run out of food anyway." Or until you accidentally made him kill himself, you thought bitterly. You knelt down and tugged off your boots, stepped out of your pants. Casual, easy, like sex used to be. You hated that you felt the need to say, "Are we doing this or what?" When everything was so easily passed between you and Mark. You hooked your thumbs in the solider shorts, waiting for his reply. Looking dangerously hot. He prayed to a God he didn't believe in that your pussy would be to die for.

        Tracksuit had you back against the wall, helping you tug down the shorts. Naked from the waist down, though your rumpled-up tank top didn't cover much. He'd undone his suit, pulled the zipper at his neck all the way down to his crotch. Exposing a sweaty, toned chest and a cock in dire need of attention. He hated that Art made him a onesie but it was easy to get in and out of.

        "Fuck." You moaned just looking at him. Still mostly clothed but Jesus. 

        "Like what you see?" He squeezed your ass as you rehooked your legs around his waist. 

        "Shut up." You tugged at his hair and he moans, leans in to mindlessly shove his tongue down your throat. You welcome it. Leaving him to blindly fumble with his dick, sliding the pink aching tip up and down your folds. Coating himself and relishing your shudder. 

        He pushed in slow. Eyes rolling back into his head as your welcoming cunt stretched around him. So wet and ready for him. It'd been such a long time since he fucked. A millennia by his standards with his revolving door of booty calls. Sliding inside you felt like coming home.

        You knew he'd be big, him and Gray were the same person after all, but he just kept going and going. Filling you inch after thick inch. Pushing your body to its limit by the time his pelvis met yours. For a moment, you were both still. Your body adjusting to the fullness. So much bigger than fingers. 

        "You good?" He panted into your lips. You growled and canted your hips. That was answer enough. 

        Squeezing your ass, he rolled his hips back, dragging his dick slowly out before he pushed forward. Testing the feel of you. All of you felt like it was squeezing him, trying to keep him inside, close. You moaned as he pulled out again only to shove back inside, faster this time. He'd done enough fucking to know the signs that someone liked it fast, liked it hard. He wasted no time in setting a pace that made your skin clap together. 

        Filling you all the way before leaving you empty then forcing your cunt to reopen, to take all of him in one long drag. Over and over. His pelvis slapped harshly against your swollen clit. Your moans echoing off the concrete walls only spurred him on. So different from the way Mark worshiped your pussy. Mark was all about giving, even when you were pleasuring him, he wanted to be good for you. Here you were, a week after his death, being fucked near to tears by another man (kind of). Tracksuit took, greedy and unforgiving. God, you were awful and God Tracksuit's dick felt so good. Why was Mark so scared of giving you his?

        "You know," Tracksuit pulled you from your half-dazed thoughts, "you're a lot nicer with a dick you." He watched your face, flushed, fucked-out by a few strokes. He wasn't surprised, he was good at a short list of things: Killing, fighting, and fucking.

        Only then you realized how desperate and slutty you must look. You schooled your features but he'd seen it, was grinning mischievously at you though his eyes were clouded with want. Dick snapping into you. 

        "You're a lot less annoying when you shut up." You could've cum by now if he just kept quiet. Stopped pulling you out of your thoughts that only made you start to spiral. Pleasure mixing thick with self hate and regret.

        "You say that a lot." He chuckled.

        "Because you talk a lot." You yanked him forward by his tousled hair. You sucked on his neck and finally, instead of yapping, he moans. Gripping you harder, hips starting to stutter, thrusts less calculated, balls deep practically grinding his cockhead against your cervix.

       “You want me to pull out or can I cum in you like a slut too?” He probably shouldn't have added that last part. You'd probably push him off, hate him for saying it but you don't. 

        The idea makes you clench around him, throb with want. Finally forget. You try and fail to keep your voice steady, maoning, "Don’t you dare pull out.”  

        "Fuck- nnnngg- fuck I'm-" A jackal's bark escapes his throat as he cums. Filling you more than you already had been. Hot and claiming. His head lulls as his dick went sof, heart hammering. "Holy shit." He pulled out of you. The plug gone, his cum starts to ooze out. "Fuck I did not think you’d let me cum in you, that’s crazy." He mused over the view a moment. 

        You leaned back against the wall. Dejected. Feeling like a slut cheating on Mark who was fucking dead. Feeling like if you didn't cum this would all be for nothing. You don't care about showing him, just lift your tank top and let him see the scar. "Doesn't mean much, remember?"

        He felt like an asshole. "Uh. Yeah." His hands leave your ass, now lightly bruised in the shape of his hands. Usually people were panting when he was done with them. You just looked kinda sad, but that wasn't his problem. You were the pampered princess, he was just some guy, not some princeling who promised to save you from a castle. He unnotched your legs from his waist, left you shivering and wanting as he grabbed his zipper and starting pulling it up. "Thanks for that."

        Your feet hit the sand and you are fucking pissed. "I'm not done." You prowled forward, needing to finish what you started. Pussy throbbing. Having a taste of him but not enough to bring you to orgasm. You kept thinking about Mark every time you got close- bit of a mood killer. 

        He jutted his hips forward, softened dick uselessly flopping between his legs. "Can't really fuck you like this."

        Mark would've never left you wanting. Even if he'd come he'd take care of you, double whatever you gave him, triple it. "You selfish asshole." 

        Tracksuit shrugged with an unwarranted smirk, like you’d just called him handsome. "I get that a lot."

        You narrowed your eyes at him and his toned body and good dick and hair sweatily stuck to his forehead. You wanted him all over again but he'd need time to recover. "Lie down."

        "What?"

        Your eye twitched. "Look, we're probably going to die. Let's just get this out of our systems." That got him on his back, hands folded behind his neck like a pillow. Dick still soft but soon to wake. 

        "So what'cha gon do until then?" Tracksuit watched you, amused as you crawled on top of him. Cum rolling in streaky tears down your inner thighs. 

        Your pussy touched down on his muscled thigh. Rough fabric providing the perfect amount of friction. You don't reply, hands coming down on his hard chest as your hips started to rock, sliding yourself up and down his leg like a dog. He watched, mesmerized by the way you moved. Needing his dick to resurrect so you’d do that rolling motion on him. 

         "You gonna help at all?" You snarled at him, still and lazy, hands still tucked behind his head.

        "Don't wanna ruin the view." He said, happy to watch as your eyes flutter from grinding on his legs. Most girls would be too embarrassed to do something this desperate. God, you really were a slut. He appreciated that. Loved a good slut. Didn’t consider why you might be desperate or what it meant. 

        "Dickhead."

        "Speaking of," he palmed his regrowing erection. Still slick with your fluids. You were poised to sit down on him before he was fully hard. He didn't mind. 

        You were full once again. Getting fuller by the second as he grew harder inside of you. Again, you rolled your hips on him. Feeling his cock push into your walls, grind against all those sweet spots that made your eyes roll back. Your shin shot little spikes of pain up your back but you didn't care. Leaned forward, gripping him by the shoulders as you chased release.

        Hands came to your hips, guiding you along with a guttural, "Fuck yeah, baby."

        It was your turn to set the pace and you did. Bringing yourself up and down as fast as you could. Trying to out run the grief. Feeling Tracksuit's thickness punch up inside of you. Thinking about doing this with, "Mark."

        Tracksuit's closed eyes open. Watching you. Knowing who you were pretending he was. Fine by him. He was using you to cum too. But, he was still mildly insulted, he wouldn't give you what you wanted, only himself. He gripped your hips hard, started fucking back up into you, making your tits bounce, setting the pace. You tried to keep up but you were only human. Just a hole for him to fuck.

        You were about to cum. You could feel that sweet tension building inside of you, ready to snap when he flips you on your back. Climax slips through your fingers as his dick shifts, hitting a different spot entirely.

        "Are you fucking serious?" You snapped.

        "Yes ma'am." He didn't hide the way he was watching your tits bounce through the tank top. Didn't hide his purposeful denial.

        "You are-"

        "A selfish asshole? Yeah, think I just heard that."

         You snarl but get lost in him again. It's endearing. He liked your attention on him, though he doesn't know why. He'd had plenty of casual flings he didn't care about, but none of them got a round two. Maybe the desert was really starting to get to him. Maybe he had a crush. Whatever- you were fucking him and he was going to make sure you knew it.

        He grabbed you by the plush of your hips and rammed in deep. Cock filling you all at once. He savored the way your eyes shot back. Mouth fell open. He opened his mouth to taunt as your spasming hand reached up, and covered his lips. He smiled into your palm. 

        You bounced off each other. Shifting sand under your bodies. He filled you deeply, completely, fast, so fast. Holding your hips at an angle so his cockhead punched into your g-spot every time. You felt orgasm finally coming like freight train. Your mind went blank.

        "Oh shit!" Your pussy convulsed around him. Squeezed so hard he felt like you'd snap his dick clean off. Jerked him off with your muscles and twitches so good that he came again. The hardest he'd ever cum. Vision going blurry and mind going fuzzy. Maybe there was a reason the others wanted you so bad.

        Cum leaked out your hole from around his softening length. Every inch of you full and warm and claimed again like it'd been with Mark who could've fucked you like this had he not been so scared. 

        For a few blissful seconds, you were a blank slate before it all came crashing back. Mark was dead and you just fucked somebody else a week after he died. 

        Tracksuit pulled out and flopped into the sand beside you. Heaving, red faced.

         "Holy fuck." He said. It was good before but feeling the way you came? "I think I just saw God." One thing was for sure, your pussy was not mediocre. Most people couldn't get him to cum once, let alone twice.

        Your breath hitched. He turned to watch you laugh exept you weren’t laughing. You were crying.

        ***

        Markus wasn't gone for more than ten minutes. Just long enough to check on Gray and Maskless's progress with the jerky. A collective secret shared. Talking of dead man's meat cools his body and mind. They head back in a group, flying low and slow, idly searching the desert as they went. Finding nothing. 

        He heard it before he landed. Heard the same sound fall from your lips all those weeks ago in the dark cave after you fell. Ricocheting off the walls of the concrete ruins, so loud it made his ears twitch. Markus was a reasonable man. He knew you were bound to be attracted to the others, would be downright concerned if you weren't. But still, it hurt, hearing you fuck another version of himself. The one who didn't even care about you- that hurt. How could you be so stupid? 

        His gloves groaned as he approached the building. He was going to rip that rat off you and give you the talking-to of a lifetime. A hand fell on his shoulder, Gray. Who was fighting jealousy in his own right but approached the situation a little more clinically. "Humans get frustrated when they can not finish what they set out to do."

        Maskless ran his hand over his face and retreated to the tent, where he laid himself down. Hands over ears to drown the sounds out. No prude but pretty fucking annoyed. Forcing himself to think about William and now how much he hated the lot of you.

        Markus waited, getting angrier by the second, every grunt and moan that came out of that building like a punch. He was livid, but willing to wait until you were decent. He'd waited and suffered long enough what were a few more minutes? But once he heard your soft cries, that plan went out the window.

        ***

        "I'm bored! This is boring!" Lensless whined, head thrown back. Phantom didn't react to him poking at his wounds anymore. Whenever Phantom was conscious, he didn't react to much at all. "We should just kill 'im. Jerky-fy him the way that guy did."

        "He knows where she is." Scars scratched at his beard. Somehow he grew one while all Lensless got was spotty stubble. 

        Lensless hummed, thinking while he shoved a thumb under Phantom's dirty bandages. Feeling around in the hot meat, stomach grumbling. Phantom breathed but didn’t stir. 

       "He's not gonna tell us, even if he could." Lensless pulled his thumb out and popped it into his mouth, savoring the rich flavor. He sucked his finger clean before shoving it back in. "She's probably dead anyway." He smiled, but wasn't happy. You barely used your powers on him. Barely pushed him around. He hardly got to see you cry and break down. That was no fun at all.

        Scars quietly considered this. Hating that Lensless of all people was right. "We'll kill the next one slower." 

        Lensless grinned. "Any idea who?"

        "Whoever we find. We'll keep him alive till we've got a replacement."

        "Sounds good to me!"

        Mohawk slunk away from the wall he hid behind.

        ***

        "Aw shit," Tracksuit rolled onto his side, trying to joke. "Was it really that good?" 

        You wiped at your eyes with your thumb but the tears kept coming, hating that this was what you'd been reduced to. A grieving slut with a gaping pussy.

         "I miss Mark." You'd never said it, even before the desert. Before you would have lashed out at the suggestion it but you'd been beaten down by the sun and withered by grief. You were a shell of who you used to be. Longing to be that person again but you couldn't be, not out here. A sob ripped from your throat.

        Tracksuit didn't reach out. Didn't know if he should or not. His casual flings cried sometimes, but he usually had the option to just fly away before they got sappy on him. He couldn't really leave because this was technically his house, his camp. Plus, he kind of, sort of liked you a little more now after you made him cum twice. Enough to think he should be a little less of a douche to you. You had been trapped for two weeks, had just lost you kind of boyfriend. He wracked his brain for something nice to say. "You like... are like... really-" He'd always been bad at being earnest. "-Not a bitch at all, I was just kinda mad earlier." That was a start.

        "Is that seriously how you talk to women?" The voice made you both bolt upright. Sand stuck to the sweaty backs of your clothes.

        Markus's frame eclipsed the doorway, casting a cool shadow over you. Mask on to protect his face from the UV, to protect you from seeing the betrayal in his eyes. 

        "Shit, dude." Tracksuit yanked up his zipper. "Don't kill me but also learn to knock? Seriously, don't kill me."

        "If I wanted you dead, you would be." Markus deadpanned. "I've been waiting for you two to finish."

        You moved for your pants. Markus was a red-white flash. Suddenly, you were sat down, pants on, wiped dry (much as he could) between the legs by a rag Markus threw into the wastes. You stared up at him, heart beating erratically, even your tank top was fixed back in place.

         "I don't want you to look as indecent as you must feel." He said as his attention turned to Tracksuit, who was in fighting stance, ready to be attacked. But Markus didn't lunge. "That was a stupid idea."

        "Yeah, cuz you're gonna kill me." Tracksuit tried smiling but it didn't reach his eyes- so close in hue to Markus's, to mom's. 

        Markus ignored him and his tense muscles. "(Y/n) is under deep emotional duress. She is in no state for intimate relations."

        "Intimate relations?" Tracksuit scoffed. "You mean fuckin'?"

        "Obviously."

        The more time Tracksuit went by without his head being mashed into a pulp, the more he relaxed, but never completely. Markus could pull a Maskless any second. "If you haven't noticed, we're all stuck in a fuckin' desert bro, we're all under 'deep emotional durress', so yeah, I'm gonna need to relax a little."

        Markus wanted to snap his neck. For fucking you, sure, but his voice, his manner. So childish, so unrefined. What he could've been had father not been so cruel in molding him into the perfect hero.

        "A few months in the desert is nothing." He said, "As Viltrumites we can survive much longer without food or water. You would know had you ever had any hardship." Days in the closet. No food. No water. No light. Just him, the darkness, and the coats pressing in.

        "Bitch, I moved outta my parents place and roughed it for years. Oh and-" He pointed to his face, exposed to Markus for the first time. His nose bridge was permanently knocked to the right. "I didn't have it easy with daddy-dearest like you did. He'd beat the shit out of me, no fuckin' time out. Like, matching costumes, man, for real? How often do you two go on daddy-daughter dates, huh?"

        Markus's jaw ticked at the way you watched them both. Catching a flash of concern for Tracksuit at his jab. He couldn't kill the fucker, you cared about him now, clung to him like you had Mark. It'd only set back your relationship. 

        "I suggest you be quiet, Mark." The name came out low, a warning from Markus's lips that made Tracksuit almost flinch. 

        "You sound just like him." Tracksuit half-laughed. "That's fucking crazy, dude. Like, actually insane."

        "I won't warn you again, Mark."

        "Okay, first of all, I never went by that stupid ass name," Tracksuit said. Dad picked it. He hated dad. Hated mom too but a little less, "Went by Seb. You know, like, Sebastian." 

        "I'm aware of our middle name."

        "Cool. Well, if you're gonna 'dad' me, at least get the name right. Or don't maybe. Seriously, you're freaky as fuck, dude. Quit it with the dad voice and the dad outfit and the dad lecture-" Tracksuit threw his hands up then down. "Whatever. It's weird! You're weird!"

        Markus's lips twitched stiffly down. He even frowned like dad. "Father must've only lectured you if you're like this."

        "Uh, my broken nose, hello?"

        "That's nothing." Markus took a proper step into the room. Sand dusting up around his boot. "Do you want to see what my Father would do to me for acting like this?"

        You're up on your feet. Legs and back aching. Embarrassed, vindicated, but having seen enough macho bullshit.

        "I came onto him." You admitted fast. 

        Markus's eyes slide to you under the dark glass. "I could tell. I thought you were better than this. I told you to wait until you felt better." 

        It hurt. Almost felt like your actual parent was disappointed in you. You lashed out, "I thought you hated your dad for what he did to you. Why the fuck are you acting like him now?"

        There were still tears in your eyes, but Markus didn't miss a beat. "I hated him, but you both are acting like children."

        Another shadow crossed into the room. Gray hovered in through a busted window, wearing an expression that gave nothing away.

        Tracksuit threw up his hands, "Uh-oh! Mommy's here to yell at us too!"

        You snickered at that because it felt good to be a bitch. To feel like you and Tracksuit were on the same page, friends again at last. 

        "We have a guest." Gray said.

        ***

        Mohawk remembered vaguely where Maskless and Tracksuit held up. He wanted to warn them because they were alright. He liked them better than those pretentious dickheads because they didn't slobber over you. He didn't truly care for Maskless and Tracksuit, he just wanted help taking Lensless and Scars down. It was only a matter of time till they went after someone else then someone else, picking them off one by one. If Mohawk wanted to live, he needed to buddy up. Kill them and eat them. Not the other way around.

        Seeing that tent outside the concrete ruin surprised him but to hell with the dislike, he thought. The more the merrier. 

        Gray intercepted his landing in the sky, asking why he was there. Mohawk explained in a frazzled frenzy. Mohawk had some of his head on but it wasn't screwed tight. That's what drinking blood and eating raw flesh did to a guy after two weeks. He could only imagine how batshit Lensless and Scars were since they really, really liked the taste where Mohawk... could only admire it a tad. 

        Gray wanted to talk longer in the sky. Steer Mohawk toward the tent so he could fetch the others, conveniently leaving you in the ruins with orders to stay put. Gray didn't trust him a bit. If anybody was going to snap next, it'd be Mohawk. Perhaps once the job was done, he could be eliminated.

        Despite everything, Mohawk was quicker with him. Fueled by desperation and annoyance at the idea of waiting a second longer to launch an attack. He touched down. Gray only had seconds to warn the others and hope they had the sense to hide you.

[notjustjavierpena]

you mentioned wife being the first person javi opened up to about his mother.

imagine him walking with her around his fathers ranch and just showing her all the places from his childhood, his favourite hiding spots etc and causally just mentioning his mum here and there. reader is clinging to his arm and just basking in the day.

at night they’re staying in his childhood bedroom since it got late and they had quite a few beers with Chucho and eventually javi is holding wife/then girlfriend close and just says “i’ve never told anyone about my mother before like this” or something like that ahhh

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A/N: This is extremely personal for me to write about as a person who knows what it is like to lose a parent when you are young. I have written this with utmost gratitude to Hubby Javi because I can process some feelings through him. I hope you enjoy this harsh thing. I hope you know that this heals me and I hope it heals other people too. It might not be completely how you wanted it but I hope you like it better.

Summary: Javier opens up about the loss of his mother inside his childhood bedroom.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, angst, talk about abusive parenting, talk about grief, descriptions of a child experiencing grief and the loss of a parent, descriptions of cancer and its effects physically and emotionally, talk about death obviously, hurt/comfort, love confessions, openness is beautiful!!! kisses, clit stim, sex to deal with emotions

Word count: 4.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56911576

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About two months ago, you promised Chucho Peña that you would help him with the annual apple harvest and suddenly, the leaves are turning brown, and September begins with magazines filling up with apple pie recipes. 

Today, you have dressed the part for a weekend on your father-in-law’s ranch with your boyfriend. Dressing the part means that you have gone out to buy yourself a pair of denim overalls that make you look mostly like a caricature of a farm girl. Javier promises that he finds it sort of endearing, reassuring you every time you bring it up with embarrassment on your face. 

“Stop worrying,” he says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, standing on a ladder that you are holding whilst he plucks apples off what seems like the millionth tree in the orchard, “He likes you, baby.”

“I should have just gone with my usual clothes,” you argue with a little sigh. Javier doesn’t know how much it means to you that you aren’t seen as foolish, how much it would hurt to find out that you are seen as the butt of a joke behind closed doors. He doesn’t know how much you need this approval because Chucho Peña is the kindest and most gentle and attentive older man you have ever met, treating you like his own child with a soft mija (my girl/daughter) that had been enough for you to excuse yourself for a moment the first time you had heard it. He is not at all like your own father. 

“You’re making an effort that doesn’t go unnoticed,” Javier offers as a consolation after you have stayed silent for a little too long, stepping down the ladder and taking off his work gloves. He stuffs them into his belt and kisses you with another reassuring smile, “He likes you.”

“I guess I'll just have to trust you,” you sigh dramatically and Javier pulls you into an embrace, the chuckle he lets out vibrating against your chest. You feel his lips pull into a smile as he rests his mouth against your cheek.

“You are kind and honest,” he compliments and sways you from side to side as he holds you close. You wrap yourself around him too, listening to his sweet words and breathing in his scent, “And he thinks the world of you. I might actually start to feel a little jealous.”

A little smile forms on your face as he squeezes you tighter and when he pulls back just a bit to kiss you, you nod at him, trying to play it cool despite thoughts of self-doubt nagging at you, “I did warn you about how I get around parents..” 

“I know, mi amor (my love), I know,” he acknowledges and holds you close again, “But you did enough to charm him the first time to be invited back. And the overalls really do sell it.”

“Shut up,” you groan as he snickers in your ear. He always manages to make your heart flutter in your chest, teasing you relentlessly but grounding you as he does it. None of your baggage is too big for him, even as you present it with trembling hands from how heavy it feels to you.

“Just a few more minutes here and we can have a well-earned fucking break. I love you but not enough to skive off in my Dad’s garden,” he tells you and starts to loosen you from his embrace, “That okay?”

You nod and then you finally break apart. Javier gets back onto the ladder to pick the remaining apples off the tree in front of you. He starts the repetitive task once again, handing each one to you so you can carefully put them in the basket on the ground so they don’t bruise. While you do it, you find your mind drifting to the day you met Chucho. 

You remember the drive to the ranch, your heart pounding in your chest at a million miles per hour, and the fake smile you had given Javier each time he had asked if you were okay. During your stay for dinner and drinks, and as you smiled and charmed, you hid the anxiety until you were all the way back at Javier’s apartment once more, only then letting your facade crumble and telling him that the dizzying nervousness he had seen on the drive back had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with your own. 

Javier had asked you if your parents had ever hurt you and with a shaky voice, you’d had to explain that while the answer was no, what you received instead of deliberate cruelty was cruel indifference. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you had said with stinging tears in your eyes, “Being hurt or being invisible.”

“You’re not invisible to me,” Javier had whispered into your hair. He had held you tightly that evening, right in his hallway, feet planted on the floorboards that have become yours too, his arms a harbor of reassurance that things will never be like that again, “I will never allow anyone to treat you like that again.”

Now, as you place another apple gently in the basket, you think about how different Chucho Peña is from your father. Chucho’s attention is genuine and warm, listening to you with the same interest as Javier shows too, letting you know where some of your boyfriend’s mannerisms come from, whereas your parents’ show of care was always fleeting and conditional to the point where you wondered why they even decided to have you. 

“Hey,” Javier’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s looking down at you from the ladder, concern on his face and gloves already off again, “¿Estás bien? (You okay?)”

“Yeah, sorry,” you feel embarrassed that it’s so evident on your face that you aren’t at ease but decide to be honest, “Just thinking about parents and overalls.”

Javier steps down onto the gravel again, laying the gloves on the top step of the ladder. He tuts, face serious for a moment. 

“C’mon, you’ve been standing in the sun too long. Let’s take a break now and go for a walk in the garden. Still got a lot to show you,” he says with his hand reaching out for you. You take it with an unsure smile, but as you are interlocking your fingers and gently swaying your arms between your bodies as you start walking, you find that it feels more than alright to let yourself be comforted by him. 

Javier leads you through the apple trees until you are out of the orchard completely. He talks quietly about the ranch but there’s a slight hesitation to dig deeper than the materials and the construction of his childhood home. You decide not to push it, knowing that it was not easy to reveal your secrets, and instead admire the many flowers that will bloom in next year’s Spring. 

Javier seems to notice you taking in all the different bushes and flowers and you’ll never admit to seeing his shoulders slump slightly just before he starts talking again, “Mom loved this garden, you know. She spent hours here, tending to every single plant until her fingertips were green and dirt-smudged. I used to follow her around, pretending to help but mostly just getting in the way.”

“Didn’t get into trouble, did you?” You tease and lean into him as you walk. 

“Loads and I would hide up there when she got angry with me,” he points to an old and slightly weathered oak tree, a rope ladder in even worse condition hanging down the trunk, “But she’d always soften if I apologized. Once she said she liked her hyacinths without their heads to make me feel better.”

“I’d swap parents in a heartbeat,” you sigh with your head on his shoulders and he moves to let you hold onto his arm instead. He goes a little quieter and you allow him to hold onto her memory by himself for a moment, looking up to see a slight crinkle on his forehead. 

“Even when you’d only have one?” He eventually murmurs into your hair and from the way he exhales, you know that he regrets saying it, “I mean… I know you would.”

“You have beautiful memories of her, I can tell,” you say as gently as possible, “If you ever want to tell me more about her, I’m here to listen, you know.”

Javier clears his throat, “Thank you.”

A moment passes but nothing more happens. This would be the perfect opportunity but the silence stretches out until you walk beside him again, holding his hand instead of basking in his half-embrace. You want to say something but you are at a loss, searching for the right words to comfort him but failing just long enough for him to change the subject. 

“We should go see how far Pop has gotten,” he suggests lightheartedly and steers you back where you came from, out of what used to be his sanctuary with his mother. 

“Yeah, sure, baby,” you reply. 

Another time then.

—

When the sun has gone down behind the horizon and the cicadas have come out from their hiding places, singing their hearts out, Javier takes you to his old room upstairs. The both of you have had alcohol with dinner and while Javier had offered to take a cab, his father had scolded him for even thinking about such nonsense, telling him that it was a joy to have him home so wholeheartedly. Your father-in-law had looked at you with a warm smile as he had said it. 

Now, you lie in Javier’s old bed - just a little bit too small for the both of you - with the quilted bedspread lying neatly folded in the end. It somehow feels more intimate to be in his childhood bedroom than it would be to go through his underwear drawer. 

Right above you, several posters are pinned to the ceiling and overlapping each other. The corners of the posters curl slightly and their colors have dulled since the 70s but they display the men of rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Some display the band logos too, they exist on the CDs that you have found in Javier’s glove compartment but he never listens to them when he drives you around. You make a mental note to casually put one of them on during your drive home tomorrow. 

Seeing those iconic faces from the 70s stare down at you, you can’t help but glance fondly at Javier when he isn’t looking but instead standing by the open window on the opposite wall, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly, his wardrobe consisting of denim jeans, colorful shirts, and leather jackets makes sense. 

You try to imagine Don Chucho coming in here with the determination to put out the cigarette in his son’s hand, holding in a lecture that would only have made the teenager roll his eyes. Then the snark that would have come out of Javier’s mouth, his face mustache-free and full of spots, and you smile so much that you turn around onto your stomach to hide your expression in his pillow. 

It smells faintly of sweat and the cheap cologne only a teenager would have bought, so you turn to peek at your boyfriend again. He taps his fingers on the window sill, overlooking the garden that you have come to learn so much about earlier. 

You spot small pieces of who he is everywhere; a stack of sociology books, paperback horror books with titles in both English and Spanish. The most worn down and loved one is El Resplandor which you guess to be The Shining. There’s also a corkboard on the wall with ticket stubs and polaroids, a framed photograph on the desk that you haven’t had the courage or chance to look at yet, beside it a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe that’s been tipped over in what seems to be frustration. Your smile drops a little as you feel the weight of the unfairness he must have felt. 

From the window, Javier exhales a puff of smoke and reaches up to rub his eye with his free hand. You glance again at the photograph on the desk, curiosity getting the better of you as you rise from the bed and walk over to it. 

As expected, the picture is of Javier's mother. What you didn’t expect is seeing your boyfriend at the age of what you calculate to be younger than ten. The resemblance is striking; her features are mirrored in his even with how much he still looks like his father. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you pick up the religious figurine next to the picture, placing her upright once more so her head is tipped toward Javier and his mother. There’s a surge of emotion in your stomach that you try to suppress, a sense of urgency to reach through the photograph and comfort the little boy who has lost half of himself. 

You hear him stub out his cigarette on the wood paneling outside, followed by the dry sound of him trying to brush the ashes off the wood again with his calloused hands. In his late thirties and still acting as if he’ll get caught by his father. 

He turns back towards you and you act like nothing has happened, holding out your hand for him to take. He glances in the direction of his mother’s photo but decides not to say anything even as he notices the figurine standing upright once again. You flex your fingers to draw attention to your hovering hand, “Come to bed.” 

You’ve both already been in your underwear for a while since it’s late and you’re alone - the overalls hang on the back of his door, scowling at you - so he simply takes your hand and you walk backward until the edge hits the back of your legs. You let yourself fall down onto the bed and into the mattress, moving backward until there’s room for him too. 

Javier sighs the second he is lying down next to you, your shoulders touching from the missing width of the bed. He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at your face. 

“What?” You ask with a little smile.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes and the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet makes you want to squirm nervously. He reaches out with the arm he has been lying on, splaying his fingers against your cheek as his thumb rests underneath your chin, and then he crashes your mouths together in a kiss that you know is him resolving back to past methods of dealing with it all. 

However, you find yourself kissing him back at first, grabbing his wrist, and leaning into him to make out with him in a way that his younger self wouldn’t have believed was possible to experience. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach as you tangle your legs together, desire for him swirling below your belly button. 

You gasp against his lips when his free hand slips into your panties, your heart hammering in your chest as he smears some of your wetness over your clit. He rubs you off until you breathe heavily, fingertip dancing back and forth over the hard nub.

“You’re so wet,” he moans quietly and slowly increases the pressure of his fingers. He really wants you to come, it seems. You didn’t have getting laid in your boyfriend’s childhood bed down on this year’s bingo card but you can feel your orgasm approaching so damn quickly that it makes you not able to think straight. 

“Baby,” you babble, horny out of your mind from the intense emotions in the air, “I’m not gonna— in your dad’s house.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” he says in a low voice, kissing your open and panting mouth to shut you up. You might come but he won’t have you making noise loud enough to reveal what you are doing. He growls in the back of his throat, “You want my fingers? Don’t reply. Just nod or shake your head.”

You dig your nails into his wrist hard enough to create little crescent-shaped marks. You want to nod your head so badly but it feels wrong to be nothing but an outlet, a distraction from what you should be talking about. So instead, you shake your head with a moan, on the brink of bursting, “Stop, Javier. Stop.”

Javier raises his brow but immediately brings his hand to a halt, watching as you whimper from being edged. You clutch at your own chest, rolling away to not tempt him to fall back into his bad habit. 

“¿Qué pasa (What’s going on)?” He asks with a crease on his forehead. He tries to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest to create some space between the two of you. He scowls, “What? You’re not having sex with me because we’re in my Pop’s house?” 

“That wasn’t sex,” you bite with frustration throughout your lower body, reaching down to fix the waistband of your underwear. The fabric sticks to you and your throbbing clit tells you to beg for forgiveness so it can have its release. You ignore it, “That was you avoiding the elephant in the room with intimacy and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Javier lets himself fall onto his back, reaching up to push the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groans and lets his palms run down his face until his arms rest along his sides again. He heaves a big sigh, “Shit. Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you promise because it is. You aren’t even mad despite how you probably should be, only feeling the way your heart aches for the boy who had to grow up too fast. Without a word, you reach down to entwine your fingers and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “I promise. It’s okay.”

“We talk about her but we don’t talk about her,” he says to the ceiling. You go quiet and choose to simply listen instead of breaking the streak of him opening up about something so vulnerable. Instead of using your words, you rub his hand in soothing circles. 

“Pop likes to mention her occasionally but it’s with a little smile on his face and a funny story,” he continues quietly, “And that’s fine. Really, it is. I like remembering the good but he says all the right things without making it hurt. It feels as though he expects me to keep all the bad in check and believe me, there was a lot of awful shit. So much that sometimes it feels like I can’t move when I am reminded of it. Hospitals with never-ending halls, that poisonous shit they shot into her veins, her losing her hair, even her goddamn eyelashes, and suddenly not—“

He stops for a moment and swallows thickly. You turn onto your side and rest your forehead against his shoulder, still clutching his hand to let him know you are not letting go. He clears his throat to sound as if his voice isn’t wavering, “Suddenly not recognizing her anymore. This terrible sight of her turning yellow during her last few weeks. I was just a kid and it was horrible and unfair. I wish he’d acknowledge how horrible and unfair it was.” 

You kiss his bare shoulder a few times. There are so many things you want to say but mostly, it is that you are so sorry for what he went through. 

“I think I learned that nothing lasts forever,” he adds without looking at you, staring down at where his fingers are entwined with yours. He is quiet for a moment and you feel your heart pick up in rhythm as you try to find something to fill the silence with, something that debunks that belief. However, just as you are about to say something, he speaks again, “But I would like this to be. I would like us to be forever.”

“Javi,” you finally say softly. 

He lifts his gaze to lock it onto yours. He looks at his most vulnerable, eyes brown and big as he waits for you to continue. You take just a moment too long and he is off again, suddenly very chatty.

“I know I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he says, “But I promise it’s coming. I just need to get it right.”

“You don’t have to talk about that right now. You know I love you and I know you love me too; I know it’s coming,” you say to reassure, pushing the idea of only letting him speak away because this topic is too big to stay silent on, “I’m not lying here with you because I want a ring on my finger, and I’m certainly not treating it like a condition for you to open up to me. I want to know you, Javier.”

“Thank you,” Javier looks grateful to hear that, saying nothing for a moment before looking at the ceiling again. He laughs softly, “You fucking terrified me, you know, the first time we sat down together.”

“I terrified you?” You furrow your brows, huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“I pull my grief up to every table I share with a person I would like to have in my life, mi amor (my love). I was terrified the first time we were on a date,” he admits, “I kept thinking when you were going to ask about family… If I was close to my mother. I hated to imagine the way your smile and curiosity would drop but I don’t want to just focus on the way I want to remember her. You were so kind and thoughtful and damn bright-eyed - that was before I knew about your dad - and I didn’t want to share how I actually remember her because you might have not wanted to see me like that.”

“Javi,” you let go of his hand to put your palm against his cheek, turning his head towards you. You weigh your words, “I want to know everything about you. I want to know everything about her too. Especially if you’re gonna marry me.” 

“She was incredible, loved music, always honest even if it meant war, and read so many books that Pop had to build her bookcase after bookcase,” he tells you with a tremble in his voice and a tear that threatens to spill down his cheek even as he smiles in remembrance of her, “But as warm and loving as she was hard. Believe it or not, Pop used to be the softie of those two.”

“I can imagine,” you say fondly. You let your hand fall down to rest on his chest, palm laying just where his heart is. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a woman so defiant in her ways but she grew up with a lot of expectations of how she should live her life,” he continues, “I think that hardened her a lot. I think it brought a lot of trouble too. She was so fiercely independent. She was fiercely protective of me and Dad too but sometimes even more of herself. I guess I know what it’s like to defend oneself from all the bullshit people give you.”

“Fiercely protective?” You tease, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe I got that from her,” he admits with both pride and sadness. He puts a hand on your wrist, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to fidget, “That’s why it got so hard when she got sick because that defiance just crumbled. I was just a kid but I was old enough to see through the facade she put up every day. I was happy to eat takeout all the time - I was barely ten, so who wouldn’t be? - but I knew it was because she was too exhausted to cook. The music was too loud, the TV muted so she could sleep on the couch all the time or maybe it had the sound turned up all the way because she was throwing up in the bathroom.”

It seems he cannot stop himself now, hand tightening around your wrist and tears falling from his eyes, “She would look at Pop with a scared expression because she knew she had to leave him all alone with me. I don’t think we ever talked about that fact. I think I just realized it for myself one day.”

Your chest constricts at seeing him cry for the first time in your presence. You’ve seen him in the aftermath of it on the nights when Colombia creeps into his head as he sleeps, where he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later with puffy eyes and a reddened nose. Seeing him now, upset like this, hits you harder than you thought it would and your heart aches as you listen to him talk about the loss of his life. 

It is years of bottled-up cruel pain and sorrow flowing out of him, so you follow your instincts and throw your arms around him even if his arm is still trapped between you. You hold him tightly and feel his reluctance for a millisecond before he allows himself to tremble in your embrace. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, “You were just a little boy, and you had to watch your mom suffer. No one should have to go through that.”

Grief is a funny thing because as you close your eyes, feeling his shuddering breaths against your chest in the midst of his emotional motion sickness, you swear that it is not an adult Javier that you are hugging but rather the version of him that had to let go of his mother. 

When your muscles start to ache from squeezing him so hard, you pull back a little to stare into his tearful face, watching his eyes glisten. You wipe a tear away but it is just replaced by another. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess this up,” he says and you’re not sure if it’s him or the little boy in him that speaks. 

“You won’t,” you reassure him, your voice steady like a lifeline that he can hold onto, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Javier sniffles with a hesitant smile. Like the instincts of a mother, you lift the hem of your shirt to wipe a few tears from his face. You lean close to kiss him afterward and then move to lie face-to-face with him, so close that your noses almost touch. Your voice is sincere, “I know she meant a lot to you and your dad, so thank you for telling me. It sounds like she was an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you,” Javier replies, “She had this way of seeing right through people, knowing if they were genuine or not. And you, you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Despite the warmth outside, you feel a different kind flow through you at those words. You brush your lips against his in a tender kiss, “I need to make sure that I tell you that I love you even more when you are so open and gentle with me.” 

He looks tired now but it’s the tiredness that fills the body after relief, “I love you too.”

“I think you should get some sleep,” you say softly. 

“I’ve never talked to anyone about my mother like this before,” he adds, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You never have to find out,” you tell him and reach to rub a thumb between his eyebrows, “Close your eyes, baby.  I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep.”

He does as he is told and smiles until sleep takes over, his face relaxing, his mouth going slack, and his breaths slowing down. He is so beautiful like this, looking peaceful, looking like home.

.

.

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[trucetale]

So this is the family photo for those who seen the movie. I have dreams okay and I need this. Details about the pic without giving too much detail. It’s an 8 years in the future family photo of the Wachowski family.

The kids (well mostly young adults here) all have bandannas, and bracelets on Amy’s part, of each other’s colors to show that they are always together even when they have to be apart. Since they are older they travel and go out on adventures more. They even tend to stay gone for months but even then they always find their way back to their found family. They do bring gifts back to their parents when they travel to different places on Earth or even different worlds. Amy’s hairstyle (quill style?) is a call back to her old design before they gave her the iconic bob.

Okay so some rambling and head cannon below.

I’m so sorry this got long as hell just straight rambling. My bad, read at your own risk bro 😭

I drew Shadow and Amy as a part of the Wachowski family because I know they would welcome them no questions asked even after the debacle with Shadow if they ever go that route moving forward. But I have been reading a little fanfic recently that I saw mentioned in another Sonic tumblr post I’m sorry I can’t remember who called “Welcome to Green Hills Shadow” on Ao3 and I have been eating goood! Shadow having his found family before he meets Rouge and Omega is a head cannon for me. Even after he meets them he keeps their colors to show he cares. Something Sonic will always point out when they meet up. Amy of course would probably live with them like the trio. I can see her sticking mostly to the trio before she opens up to Maddie and Tom. Them at first not knowing just how strong she is would try to have her stand back with them and let the boys handle the dirty work but she shuts that down by saving them and help in obliterating the enemy. Her and Maddie doing some girl bonding while Tom bonds with the guys. Just a wholesome family at the end of the day.

So we know Shadow ain’t dead, you can’t kill him off without getting into the niddy griddy of his story and we know that they are going to make a spinoff movie about him. I can see Shadow joining the family but not like…. living with them like The heroes gang just on and off he’ll stay, bond with the fam and be like, “I need to find out more about myself. I need to know where I come from.” Then pew, off he goes and a few weeks later he comes back brooding but with some good news. Him and Tom talk about what he finds and they bond and stuff. Maddie and him bond for a bit, she does some embarrassing mom things that make Shadow smile and chuckle. He gets into some shenanigans with the trio and he’s off again.

Since we know Amy is gonna be in the next movie which I for one CANNOT wait for. All I ask is that they keep her a badass and not clingy. I like Amy I do and want her to be the daughter Maddie always wanted so they can do shit together heck even do a tag team rescue! Like, Tails gives Maddie some gadgets to go on a mission with them because they need their mom’s help for something and the boys can’t go because they’re the distraction and while on this mission Maddie and Amy bond… bro I need Sonic 4 NOW!!!

[flymetosnarryland]

Update.

I deleted yesterday's cropped art cus it got flagged anyway, uh. But... I managed to reupload some of older spicy stuff on my AO3 and two new fanarts are there too now. We'll see how long they'll stay, heh.

And, um... I have one simple request, please. At least for those, who care a little: can you guys not be creepy about me sending you my spicy snarry art on priv? I will not do that. Yeah, I am drawing it from time to time and decided to share it with my beloved fandom for free, but that doesn't mean I feel 100% comfortable with sharing this kind of stuff (it's 50/50 fun and stressful). Especially with some random people I don't know at all. And some people are making it weird. Also, when those pics disappearing from AO or are not visible here - gosh, please, stop asking why and when I fix it, because you need it. Somehow I don't feel good, when people are crying about it, while I'm sharing a lot of other things. I may delete or ban this kind of messages and comments from now on, cus this is my comfy corner and I want to feel good here, okay? (・-・)

Thanks for hearing me out ɷ◡ɷ

[jillsandwhichs]

Beer and Sex

Chapter 6 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy are at an event in Austin that includes being outdoors, drinking & games! Well, long story short, you and Joel end up heading back to his place for some indoor fun

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends

WC: 3.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: No outbreak (AU), Usage of alcohol, Buzzed sex, Dirty talk, Making out, Breast play, Living room sex, You ride Joel, Unprotected sex, Choking kink, Clit rubbing, Denial of orgasm, doggy style & you ride him

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You sat back down whilst laughing. Picking your beer back up, you sipped it and put it back down. You haven't drinken in a while, it's nice to finally do it again. You're usually so busy with work that you never have the time or energy to get some alcohol in your system. Your friends Joel and Tommy convinced you to go with them to this event in town though and when you saw there were drinks, you couldn't refuse.

The only reason Joel and Tommy are here is because Maria is hosting this event. She's very big with the city council and hosts events like this from time to time. You don't mind coming. You're actually enjoying yourself. Just a bit ago you were playing darts with Joel and then tether ball with Tommy. You're slightly buzzed too. You can't get full blown drunk though, you need to still drive home.

As you watched some of the younglings run around and play, you felt the weight of the table increase as Joel sat down. It's a muscular man. He weighs a good bit. "Hey." You said in a friendly tone. "Hello." He replied, sipping his tall boy. "You got another one? Shit, don't make me go get another one too, I still have to drive home." You joked, resting your head in your hand. Joel chuckled. "My house is just a few blocks away and I walked here so I ain't even bothered." Joel stated.

That's right, he lives in the suburbs. That's not something you'd expect from a country boy like him. Then again, being country is defined by where you live. "Where did Tommy and Maria go?" "No fuckin' clue," Joel snickered, "Probably fuckin' in the bathroom or something." He teased. You laughed and nodded. "They are newly weds, what can you expect?" You said whilst giggling. Joel nodded. "True that."

Joel was once married, he even had a daughter with the woman. Joel has been single for years now though. Everyone jokes he's out of commission but he just says he's waiting for the right lady. Sarah, his daughter, is almost twelve. She's getting older and cuter by the second. You've met her quite a bit, even babysat her, she's a dear. Joel told you she's with her mother right now, so he's free.

"At least Maria is getting some. It's been a good few months for me." "Months? Try years darlin' and it ain't by choice." You cackled at his words. He isn't wrong. He's celibate from what you've heard. "Sorry Joel, that has to suck." "It sure fuckin' does." He took a shot of his beer. You nodded and sipped off of yours too. The beer was getting warm. Gross. You sighed deeply. "I'm going to go get a new beer, I'll be right back."

You stood up and headed towards the cooler. This cooler was brought by Tommy himself. He decided to provide it for everyone. It's the good stuff too. You bent over and picked up a new one. It was ice cold to the touch. "Hell yeah." You murmured, cracking it open. You're currently wearing a black tank top and short jean shorts. It's hot during the summer, you have to stay cool somehow.

When you turned around, you saw that Joel's eyes were on you. He looked like he was trying to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he totally was. You can't lie, you've checked him out too. Those big muscles and that handsome face are a sight for sore eyes. He's a hottie, admittedly. You giggled and sat back down beside him.

"You were totally just checking me out, weren't you?" You said with a laugh, tipping your beer into your mouth and drinking it all while looking into his brown eyes. He snorted and nodded. "You caught me." Oh, so he was? You don't mind. You knew Joel would be there and that did somewhat take part in what you're currently wearing.

You've always thought he was sexy. The day Tommy introduced you to him you though that. That was only two years ago. Your guy's friendship has been great but you're awfully surprised the two of you haven't hooked up yet. You've definitely flirted and hit on one another. You've even went as far as to having him lick salt off of your stomach before taking a shot of tequila and that had you soaked.

It is very surprising.

"But you can't deny you were checkin' me out earlier." Joel whispered to you with a husky voice. You giggled. "Guilty as charged. You've also caught me red handed." This isn't just the beer talking. You totally were. When he was putting the cooler down earlier, you were indeed gawking at his veiny, buff arms. You giggled and bit your lip while looking up at him. "How drunk are you?" You asked him. "Not drunk enough." You rolled your eyes at his words.

You looked around the area. You still have no clue where Tommy and Maria are. "I'll shoot him a text. Let's get out of here." He whispered to you. You scoffed and breathed in deeply. "Alright." You giggled. He got off of the picnic table and took your hand in his, helping you out of the table as well. You smiled at him. Your guy's hands stayed interlocked. Is this actually going to happen? Are you going to fuck Joel Miller? After all this time?

"My house ain't too far from here." Joel said to you in a deep voice. "I know." You smiled, walking alongside him. You don't feel drunk. You do feel buzzed. It isn't anything you can't handle. You're a heavy weight. It takes you time to really hit the drunk point. The trees around you and Joel brought you two shade, but you're already too hot, in more ways than one. He looked down at you and chuckled. "I can't wait to fuck you." He admitted. You huffed out. "Good." You bit your lip to hold back a big grin.

You glanced over your shoulder. You hope no one will wonder where you two are. You'd rather keep this between you and Joel for now. "Will we come back once we're done?" "We'll have to, I left my goddamn brother back there." You laughed loudly. "That is true... He'll be fine, right?" "He's a grown man, he's fine. Like I said darlin', I'll text him." You nodded. You just don't want them to come looking for the two of you.

You'd rather not be in the middle of getting fucked when Tommy and Maria show up.

-

As Joel opened his front door and locked it behind him, he chuckled and grabbed you, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back. His messy beard scraped against your face. "Mmph." You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He picked you up into his arms like you were a feather. You giggled and continued to kiss him. His hands were on your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he took you two to the living room area.

"Baby?" "Hmm?" "Bedroom or living room?" You snorted at his question. At least you get a say in this. You thought for a moment. "Let's keep it fun-living room." "Glady." Joel smirked, kissing you again but this time, his tongue found it's way into your mouth. You didn't mind. It made you even more horny. Your guy's tongues fought for dominance. You wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth. You moaned loudly as he sat you down on him. You could feel his erection through his stained work jeans.

You giggled and kissed him before reaching your hands down to the end of your tank top and pulling it off. Joel just stared in admiration. He thinks you're gorgeous. "Look at you," He purred, "You're beautiful." He whispered. You grinned. "You're handsome, and so sexy." You spoke seductively before licking his lower lip and kissing him again. His hands went to your tits, he squeezed them gently. Joel is more of an ass guy though.

After making out for a little bit, Joel finally pulled away to take deep breaths. "I'm fuckin' twitchin'." He sighed deeply, looking down at his bulge. You think that's the sexist thing ever. You love when a man is vocal about how he feels or what you're doing to him. "I'm so wet for you, wanna feel?" You whispered against his ear. Joel's breath shuttered. "Badly." And his hands went to your shorts, undoing them and helping you out of them as well.

Stepping out of your shorts, you climbed back into Joel's lap and sighed. "Feel." You whispered, kissing his neck and jawline. Joel brought his finger down to your core and pulled your panties to the side. As he dipped his fingers through your folds, he let out a low groan. "So fuckin' wet, just for me, hm?" He whispered, nibbling on your jawline. You giggled. "Just for you." This surely isn't the first time you've gotten wet thinking about Mr. Joel Miller.

Joel swiped his fingers through your folds, picking up all of your juicy wetness. You continued to kiss him. He seemed desperate, like a wild animal. He's hungry for you. You bit his lower lip and once again swiped your tongue along his. You moaned so quietly, it was more of a whimper.

He pulled his finger away and grunted. "Need to feel you from the inside." He murmured as he pulled his cock out of his jeans. Oh yeah, he's big. You're excited. It's been so long, especially for him. You hope you're as good as he'll be to you. Grabbing his member, you yourself pulled your white panties to the side before you then sat down on his dick. Both of you made sensual noises as your folds and cunt enveloped him. He was already so deep inside of you. It feels so good.

"How's that?" You chuckled, your arms around his neck. He snickered and gripped your ass tightly, landing a smack onto it which caused you to jolt slightly. "You feel so good. Now fuckin' ride me." He began to squeeze and slap your ass and you started to ride him. You went slow at first. Your movements were just simple grinds back and forth but you'd occasionally lift your ass up and back down, literally bouncing on his cock.

You wanted to savour this. You haven't felt this good in awhile. Having sex with Joel tonight was not on your agenda of plans but seriously, it is a welcomed surprise. He feels amazing. He knows what he's doing too. Each time he pinches your ass cheeks or spanks you playfully, it either makes you moan or kiss him even harder and more passionately.

Now, Joel is holding your hips. You began to ride him faster too. His dick is so deep inside of you, you can hardly believe it. "I've wanted this for a long time." You moaned out, looking him in the eyes. His eyes got darker and even more full of lust. "Me too babygirl, me too." He then swatted your ass again before going back to squeezing your hips. You're sure you'll have red marks all over your cheeks by later in the evening.

Bouncing on him, each thrust was just a mark bringing you closer to your climax. His member is deep inside of you and is shoving itself against your tight walls with each movement. "Yes baby." He groaned, kissing and licking your neck. He thinks you smell amazing. You did put on your perfume before going to the event. You're glad it's doing it's job.

"Babygirl, turn around, cowgirl, y'know?" You giggled at his words. "Yes sir." You teased and lifted yourself off of him slightly to turn around. You were surprised he asked you to switch positions, but you aren't complaining. You pushed yourself down onto his dick again and you both made whimpering noises. He seems to be feeling good. That's all you want. It's been years for him, you better make it good.

Once you got comfortable, you moaned loudly as he started to thrust up into you. "Joel!" You practically screamed, tossing your head back against his broad shoulder. He cackled and kissed your neck, leaving numerous bites and hickies onto it too. How are you supposed to go into work on Monday? You're sure these'll last a few days, hopefully not. "Need to make sure I still got it." Joel grunted, now he is the one fucking you and man, it's heaven.

Joel noticed your head was still tilted back against his shoulder. He smirked. He brought his left hand up to your neck and held it, choking you now. You moaned and turned your head slightly, kissing his messy hair and giggling. "You're so deep inside of me." You panted. "Yea? You're takin' it so fuckin' well too baby." Joel replied, kissing your cheeks numerous times, making you smile and chuckle.

His free hand, his right one, was one your lower stomach, holding you in place. You wanted to look down to see him moving inside of you, but you couldn't. With his hand on your neck, there's not much you can do with your head. You aren't complaining. You think it's hot to be choked. He does it so well too. "Been thinkin' about fuckin' you for awhile now," He whispered against your ear. His breath was warm. "You feel better than I ever could've imagined." That made you whimper in pleasure.

You felt his right hand slither down from your waist and to your clit. You whimpered. "Oh God!" You whined out as he began to rub your clit fast and with pressure. It felt so good. He works well with his fingers. He continued to thrust up into you, which made the experience a million times better. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered to him. "No baby, not yet, hold it in." What!? How are you supposed to just hold it in? "What?" "You heard me babydoll." He licked behind your ear and bit on your lobe. "Do not cum yet." He sternly stated.

"How?" "Just do it."

How are you supposed to hold back your orgasm? No hookup has ever asked you to hold it back. Actually, they need you to cum quickly or else they'll finish before you. You whimpered and bit your lip. No, you're going to cum. "I can't," You panted, "I just can't." Joel didn't respond. "Joel!" You moaned out, reaching your hand behind his head and tugging on his hair. He grunted and bit down on your neck.

"Cum for me."

That was it. You moaned softly as you coated his cock in your fluids. You let go of his hair. Shaking in his lap, Joel continued to rub your clit until you came down from your high. It overstimed you even. "Holy Christ." You moaned. You went to turn your head to kiss him but he lifted you up and chuckled. "I still haven't finished." He then pushed you down onto the couch, doggy style, and began to pound into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the couch beneath you. Your knuckles even went white. He moved so skillfully inside of you. Each pump was one of excellence. "Wish I could cum inside of you." He whispered, running his hands up and down your back before he ultimately rested them on your rear. Joel gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly before leaving multiple slaps onto it, all of which made your moan or squeal.

With just a couple more thrusts, Joel finished. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself. He finished all over your ass and lower back. "Fuck sakes." Joel groaned, caressing your ass as he came. You pushed your ass against his manhood and giggled. He spanked you again and snickered. "One sec." He leaned over and grabbed a random wipe, cleaning your ass and back off. He tossed the rag to the other side of the living room and you chuckled.

Joel heaved deeply and lifted you up by your waist and pulled you back into his lap. You were basically completely naked, only in panties whereas he was fully dressed. So unfair. "Was it good?" You asked him, resting your head against the arm of the couch. He glanced down at you, still breathing heavily. "You're a funny girl." He leaned down and kissed you softly. "It was fuckin' glorious." He then nibbed on your jawline, making you giggle cutely.

You hummed and looked up at him. "You're the only man whose ever denied me of finishing, by the way." You snorted. "That's because you've only done slept with boys who finish too quickly. I think it's sexy to see a woman be restricted of her pleasure." You giggled at his words. "It felt better." "That's the point babydoll." He caressed your cheek and you brought yourself closer to his face, kissing him gently.

He breathed in deeply and cupped your face firmly, holding you in place. "Don't convince me to fuck you again." He said with a smile against your lips. "If you can't handle it..." You bit your lip. You acted like you were about to get off of his lap and you suddenly squealed as he tossed you back onto the couch and put you in missionary. Your legs went over his shoulders and you smiled.

"Oh I think I can handle it."

That was where the next of many rounds began.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

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Up Next

Chapter 1

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Nine

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (Well... sorry this took so long. Safe to say, life has been a bit mental lately. Lando is currently cutting two teeth at once so yeah... bit grizzly. We've also put our flat up for sale so yeah. Lots going on. Hope this was worth the wait 🥹)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven, Eight

Your hands were shaking so violently that you weren't really sure how you made it to the hospital. You parked and ran into the ER like your life depended on it. Soon finding a particularly shaken Simon with his head in his hands, along with Joel's parents and younger brother. 

"Pip, sweetheart." Joel's mother said sweetly as she swept you into her arms hugging you tightly "I'm so glad you're here." 

"Any news?" You asked as your eyes flitted between her and Joel's father who was cradling a sleeping Sarah in his arms.

"Nothin' yet." Replied Simon, pulling your attention away from the older Millers "They had him all strapped up in a body brace 'n everythin'... He wouldn't wake up no matter what they tried..." Simon trailed off as he again threw his head into his hands. 

You were quick to drop to Simon's side, pulling into a sideways hug as you tried to comfort the distraught man. 

"This ain't your fault son." Replied Cole Miller as he took a few sure steps towards you and the younger man "It was an accident, plain n' simple." 

"But I didn't even see it happen... If I'd just-"

"No one saw what happened, son." Cole interrupted "You cannot blame yourself for this. This stuff happens. Unfortunately, it comes with the job." 

Simon nodded in reply but, you knew that he wasn't convinced by Cole's argument. You knew that until he knew that Joel was going to be okay... He would never stop blaming himself for this. 

"Miller family?" Called out an unfamiliar voice and you all perked up as you turned to find its owner. 

"That's us." Piped up an uncharacteristically quiet Tommy and a moment of guilt washed over you for not speaking to him when you arrived. 

"Is he okay?" Asked Lucia as she hooked her arm with her husbands and you looped your own with Simon's.

"He's a very lucky young man." The doctor replied and you all breathed a collective sigh of relief "He's shattered his left arm and broken his femur. He will require surgery to repair both so he is going to be off his feet for a while. He's also got a pretty nasty concussion so we will want to keep him in for observation for that also. All things considered, he's lucky to be alive." 

The doctor's words hung over you all as you took them in. 

Lucky to be alive. 

Joel could have died.

And you have been giving him the silent treatment over a kiss that you weren't entirely sure was really a kiss at all. You could have lost him today, without ever really having the chance to see where this thing between you could go. 

You had wasted so much time. 

"When can we see him?" Asked Cole, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts. 

"We are going to be taking him into surgery shortly so it's going to be a little while yet." The doctor answered honestly"My advice would be to go home, get some rest and come back in the morning. The surgery is going to be extensive andthen he'll likely be in recovery for a few hours." 

"But what if-" 

"We will call you if anything changes but you need to get that baby home and you're all going to be no good to Mr Miller if you're all dead on your feet." 

The doctor had a point and you all knew it. Yet the idea of leaving the hospital and Joel didn't sit well with you. 

"I'll stay. Keep you all updated." You said and Cole and Lucia gave you a small nod before gathering up Sarah's things. 

"We'll see you in a few hours Pip." Said Lucia as she gave you a peck on the cheek. 

"See you soon." You said softly "Go get Sarah into a proper bed." 

They left then, Tommy trailing behind them both and not sparing anyone a glance. 

"Can I stay with you?" Asked Simon softly and you turned to see him standing across from you, his hands wringing together as he waited nervously for you to answer.

"Of course." 

...

"Dadadadada..."

You were woken by babbling. Your neck was sore from resting it on Simon's shoulder whilst you waited on news of Joel. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted by Lucia stood across from you with Sarah in her arms. Your sitting up abruptly grabbed the baby's attention and she squealed and reached for you, her small hands grabbing at you. You didn't hesitate, you were on your feet in a heartbeat and pulling her into your arms.

"Oh, baby girl." You sobbed as you placed a kiss on the top of her and breathed her in "So good to see you." You breathed as you held her tight.

"Any news?" Asked Lucia and you shook your head. 

"Where's Cole?" You asked as you noted her husband wasn't with her. 

"He stayed home with Tommy." The older woman replied, "Kid's a little beside himself so we felt it would be better for Joel to have a less stressful environment to wake up to." 

You nodded in understanding. Tommy's a pretty hot-headed young man and struggles to keep a level head. As much as you knew the kid would want to be with his brother and no doubt Cole wanted to be there for his son, it was best to keep away till they knew what condition Joel would be in.

"Miller family?" Called out an unfamiliar voice and you all turned to look at the owner.

"Yes." You replied in unison and the nurse smiled "He's out of recovery and responding well." They stated "If you follow me, I will take you to him."

The three of you followed eagerly, desperate to see Joel after what felt like weeks of waiting. You were taken into a ward and then led to a small room just off from the main area. A bed sat in the centre of the room, equipment, cabinets and a few chairs lined the walls. Joel's leg was elevated by what looked like a bit like Sarah's door bouncer. He was sleeping. A dark bruise painted the left side of his face, a nasty gash along his hairline, neatly stitched but red and angry. 

"He's been coming around for a little while." The nurse stated as she finished off her checks "Might still be a little while before he's coherent so be patient with him.

"He's been through quite an ordeal." 

You all nodded then grabbed some chairs and placed them strategically around his bed. You sat with Sarah in your arms, smiling at her little snores beside your ear and with your free hand you took Joel's uninjured one, needing to touch him in some way to reassure you he was here.

He was going to be okay. 

. 

You almost missed it. 

The slight pressure on your hand. Your attention set on a bird hopping around on the branch of a tree just outside the window. Lucia had taken Sarah home for a little while, the baby having grown restless from hours of sitting and waiting for her daddy to wake up. Simon had gone in search of Coffee and sustenance. The fact that neither of you had eaten in quite some time made itself known when your stomachs started to growl loudly. 

Joel hummed as consciousness started to trickle through a little more. You were sat bolt upright in your chair. Watched as his brain almost visibly booted up and his eyes cracked open.

"Joel?" You uttered, leaning closer so you were in his eye line "Can you hear me?"

He nodded weakly, his eyes fluttering closed again and you deflated a little but soon perked up when they reopened a little wider.

"Hey." He croaked out and you sobbed, smiling brightly at him. 

"Hey yourself." 

"Where am I?..." He asked, trialling off as his eyes took stock of his surroundings. 

"You had an accident on site." You replied, voice wobbling a bit as you spoke "You fell from the scaffolding. You shattered your arm and broke your femur. They had to operate to repair the damage but you're going to be okay. Got a nasty concussion too... Doctor said you're a lucky man considering what happened." 

"Where's mum?" He asked, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath as he processed what you'd told him.

He was lucky to be alive. That's basically what you had said in so many words. 

"She took Sarah home. She was getting a little restless." You replied and Joel nodded "Oh! I should call her. She'll want to come see you now you're awake."

"Why are you here Pip?" 

Joel's question took you by surprise. Your brows pulled together as you looked at him in confusion. 

"What do you mean, why am I here?" 

"Well, we've not exactly been close lately." 

"Joel-" 

"If you're here because my parents asked you to be then you can go now."

"That's not..." You trailed off, shaking your head as tears started to pool in your tired eyes "I'm here because the man I love nearly died." 

Joel's eyes widened at your statement and his lips parted as if to speak but no words were uttered. So you continued.

"When Simon had called and told me that you'd had an accident... Everything just flashed in front of my eyes." You choked "All the time we have wasted not just being together." 

"Pip-" 

"I thought about that day with Anna... When I saw you kissing and the more I analysed it the more I realised that you looked as stiff as a corpse." 

"Oh, thanks." Joel snorted and you playfully punched his uninjured arm. "Gentle... I'm injured remember? Injuring me physically as well as emotionally." 

"You know I didn't mean it that way." You groaned "I just meant... It was clear that it wasn't something you wanted but at the time I just saw red and I..."

"I know Pip." Joel said softly as he took your hand in his "But, the reason you came to that conclusion is also because you don't trust me and if we're going to do this... that's something you need to work on." 

"I do trust you Joel it's just..." You trail off as you think about what to say.

You let out a long sigh as you bring his hand to your lips and place a soft kiss on his grazed knuckles.

"We didn't have a good start you and I." You chuffed "After the incident with Sarah's mum I... Well, my confidence was knocked and I struggled to believe that you ever liked me.

"Then everything happened with Sarah coming along and you telling me you did have feelings for me but then I got pregnant and lost it and I-" 

"Pip, sweetheart... You're ramblin' darlin." 

"Sorry." You said breathily, rubbing the palm of your hand not holding Joel's on your jeans "My confidence has taken a real knock Joel and I just needed time to re-centre myself but not I realise that I just wasted precious time we could have had together."

You look at Joel then, eyes locking with his as you drive him what the point you really want to make with him.

"Joel... I love you... I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another damn minute not being with you." Joel's lip quirks at your statement and you smile at him as you say "So if I'm not too late Joel Miller... Can we quit fucking around and just be together?" 

Joel didn't say anything for a short while. His eyes searched yours for something but you weren't sure what. So you sat there on bated breath and waited for him to either reject you or accept you. 

"If we're doing this... I need you to know that I'm all in." He states plainly and your brows draw together as you await his explanation "Not saying it needs to happen next year or even three years from now but... I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. Raise Sarah with you." He continues and your heart swells "So I need to know that you're all in too. Because I can't get into something with you, only for Sarah to become even more attached than she already is and then you leave us." 

"I won't." You practically squeak and Joel's smile spreads��"I want all those things too." You state "I already love Sarah like she's my own and one... I want to have kids with you too. But perhaps give it a few years, eh?" You finish with a wink and Joel grins at you. 

"Then what are you waiting for?" 

"Hmm?" You hum, looking at him with a bemused expression. 

"Well it's not like I can get over to you so... ya'll better come over here and kiss me." 

You grin before standing up slightly so you can lean in and brush your lips against his. 

"Love you, Miller." You whisper between pecks on his soft lips.

"Love you too Pip." 

...

Three weeks later...

"There we go daddy." You said as you finished cutting up his food for him then placed the bowl within reaching distanceof him as he partially sat and partially lay on his couch. Leg and atm both propped up on pillows.

"Thanks, baby." He replied sweetly, puckering his lips for a kiss which you happily gave him. 

"Dadadadada." Sarah babbled from her spot on the floor, stuffed pooh bear in hand. 

"Come on then angel." You said as you scooped Sarah up and planted a kiss on the apple of her cheek "Time for your dinner too!"

You had easily fallen into domestic bliss with Joel. The man had been rendered utterly useless with his broken arm and leg but didn't stop letting you know how much he appreciated everything you were doing for him. Simon brought over care packages to keep Joel going when you were at the office, his mum taking care of him and the baby and during the day whilst you were at work. 

Once dinner was done, you put Sarah down and puttered around getting a few chores done before joining him in the lounge.

"How's your pain?" You asked and Joel nodded.

"A lot better." He answered and you smiled "fancy coming over here for a cuddle?"

"Joel Miller's a... If you'd asked me a month ago I would have said no way... Who knew." 

"Careful or I'll take the offer back darlin'" 

"No!" You pouted before slipping onto the couch beside him with practised ease. 

This is how you'd spent most evenings, cuddling beside him and making out a little before things started to get a little hot and heavy. The two of you having to cool it after that. 

And that's exactly how things progressed this evening. Your leg draped over his hip as you try to get closer to him. Only this evening, his working arm wraps around your back and his hand, resting on your backside, urges you to rub your core against his thigh. Your core aches at the perfect pressure this gives your aching core.

"Take what you need baby." He whispers against your lips "You deserve it, baby." 

"Joel." You whine, feeling your core tighten as your peak nears "Joel, fuck." 

He hums against your lips, his hand urging your hips to thrust a little faster and you comply, feeling your orgasm racing towards you. 

"Cum for me beautiful." He mumbles as he kisses you sweetly "Cum Pip." 

You do. Kissing him hard, you moan into his mouth as your core pulses with your release and your legs shake this theintensity of it. 

"Good girl." 

"Want me to finish you?" 

"No." He whispers softly "That was just for you. A treat for helping me."

"Joel-" 

"We'll get our moment baby girl." He interrupts, kissing you long and languidly "But for tonight... It's just about you." he finishes. 

Kissing you hard again, he urges your hips to move again and you can't find it in you to disobey. So you dry hump his thigh till you're boneless. Three more orgasms later your underwear and leggings are a mess. Then once you regain the use of your legs you help Joel to bed. Slipping in next yo him again and relishing how perfect all this felt. 

You just hoped that there weren't going to be any more surprises along the way. 

Next

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[theterrorfebruaryflash]

Happening now: The Terror February Flash 2025!

The Terror February Flash is an annual fest celebrating our cold boys via fic, art, vids, and other forms of fannish expression.

Why February? Because Something Something Valentine's Day. Why Flash? Because this is a low-pressure, almost-anything-goes prompt meme with a short creation period.

This is mostly a P!atC Server Event, where we will rejoice and squee about each work coming in during February, but anyone with an AO3 account can participate. We'll also post a masterlist to Tumblr at the end of the event.

Schedule for 2025:

Sign-ups and prompt posts: Jan 28 - Feb 6 Prompt claims and creation period: Feb 6 - Feb 28 Works can be posted to the collection any time during the creation period.

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[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 3

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 3811

Written: 5th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm not going to go into every detail of adapting to a prosthetic, there's a lot of stages. For anyone curious, MC uses a multi-grip prosthetic, that relies on electric signals from their residual limb to help communicate movement, using a specialised (fantasy) metal because it's adapted for their job. Also the general adaptive time for one can be up to a year, (even longer depending on how much it needs adjusting and how much active support you have). I'm cutting it down to six months overall (though they continue to learn better ways to use it going forwards). On account of the LADs world having stuff like... AI Robots that can have a conversation with you in the streets, and magic powers. I don't know how long this will be, or how many parts. I have a horrifying number of notes... I guess we'll see how long I can go before my brain shuts down.

Now Playing: The Line, by Twenty One Pilots

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous Next ->

You spend the next few days going through the motions.

You exist where you should be striving, and you breathe where you know you're supposed to laugh.

It's empty, but the angry beast in your heart doesn't snap and growl and howl. Demanding blood as recompense for an existence you cannot justify.

Looking in a mirror has become… difficult, so when you brush your teeth, or wash your face, too stubborn to let anyone help when your hand trembles, and you spill your things on the floor. You stare down. At the floor, as you go through motions you know like the back of your scarred hand.

There are moments when life bubbles up, but it is short and it is tired and you only feel it when you have others around you to bring it out. To ease life back into a hand that's become a claw. Smoothing the stretching torn skin, and tending to broken nails.

You go through the motions, because they wait for you on the other side of the door. If you cannot live for you, you will always live for others.

Sometimes it is all you can do, to motivate your broken heart to beat one more day.

Zayne comes with you to the hospital, to check in with your specialist. A warm older woman, who reminds you too much of Gran to not make you feel like you're seeing ghosts. It's a feeling mixed with guilt, and a small amount of fear. Unbidden but lurking. Everytime she, Meredith, touches you, an ache sparks in your heart.

A memory like static hits you, and you have to steady your breath and your heart with a firm hand before you can resume listening.

If you can even be said to be listening.

You're checked over, made sure that your injuries haven't been made worse by your isolation and lack of care. You're lucky, you're told. That someone found you, that they came to you, brought you back to the hospital.

You want to snap back that luck doesn't tear your arm from your shoulder.

That you're not lucky. You're not brave.

You're not anything.

Zayne is commended for his sutures, and his quick care, he barely responds, hand firmly in your one. Squeezing, loosening his grip, squeezing. Self comforting himself as much as he is comforting you. You return the gesture, staring out the window. Trying to take yourself somewhere else. Somewhere without white walls, and terrible motivational posters.

Somewhere where this ghost of your grandma isn't hovering over you. Where you're not hearing talk about next steps.

Somewhere warm maybe.

His hand grounds you, keeps you tethered. Part of you wants to release and let yourself float, the other is scared to disappear into the clouds without him. So you stay, and you hold on. Like you're a balloon he keeps around his wrist.

"Let's check your prosthetic fit. It will need adjustments going forwards as you learn to use it."

Static.

You're somewhere in the room, staring at yourself as you nod, a hand on your shoulder as your shirt buttons are loosened. As straps are pulled and tightened around skin. Even half aware they feel raw. Itching and burning against you.

Unwanted. Unwelcome.

It's a distant pair of eyes that gaze at the limb fitted into place, staring at the metal. You blink finally. Clearing your head to look. Just… look.

"Comfortable?"

You think back to the bathroom with Rafayel. His gentle hands soothing dirt from your skin, and his eyes glowing as they look at you. You think to a gentle hand stroking your head as you fall into sleep, starry blue eyes watching you carefully. You think about a crow bringing you snacks, of red eyes watching you warmly over a bowl. You think about a doctor's hand in yours, easing the scars over, like you've done to his.

You think about the pieces of you twisted and bunched and stuffed under skin that fits too tight. You think about the pain of waking up every morning now. Of avoiding your own gaze in the mirror.

You think of a limb you can still see the metal piercing through.

You aren't sure how to answer her. Too many things bundled up in your head, struggling to filter and file and understand which is which.

Zayne gives a gentle tug, looks down at you, forest eyes glimmering. Absently you think you see fear, like you're going to disappear, if he lets you go. Float away on a weak breeze.

It should shame you. Feeling this weak.

You're just so tired.

When he speaks, he soothes with his thumb, pressing into skin and drawing the infinity sign against you, "Is it rubbing painfully anywhere?" He clarifies the question.

The noise filters back a little, giving you a direct pathway to your answer, "The straps. They hurt."

The doctor nods to herself, she writes notes down and adjusts them. "They'll soften over use, you'll need to clean them weekly at least, leather conditioner can help ease the initial discomfort."

The raw rubbing softens a little, still too hyper aware of the feeling, you twitch away from her when she adjusts where the metal and sheath touches your skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Your hands are cold."

Her laugh reminds you of Gran too, and you can feel the walls getting closer. You have to hold it together. You have to keep it together.

You can't break down here. You can't. You have to be stronger than this.

It's like there's a lump in your throat. A feeling like you're going to be sick, maybe cry. Maybe both.

You can't be weak here.

"Can we take a minute, Doctor Rin?" Zayne asks, voice calm but cool. Like he isn't really asking, like it's a formality. Respect for someone who knows how to help you.

She leans back and nods, "Of course." She looks over at you and smiles, and it's too warm and kind to not make you flinch back, "Take a few minutes outside."

You can't respond because the lump in your throat is rising.

Don't cry.

With a steady hand on your back, Zayne leads you away from the room, steering you through the corridors of Akso. Out into the courtyards. Where it's quiet. Where no one can watch as you finally crack.

As you gulp, and cover your mouth. Trying to force it down as you hiccup and gasp.

There's a burning in your shoulder, everytime you feel the brush of metal, the chill through the sheath. You feel the cool straps, refusing to take your body heat. You reach up with your hand to pull them off but a hand takes yours. Holds it, as another releases the buckles. Removes the offending thing.

Gently. Carefully. Reverently.

He places it down on a bench, then pulls you closer. Rubbing warm circles into your shoulder and skin through your shirt. You cling to his, trembling until the feeling eases out. Relieved from your confines.

From the woman who brings ghosts to your door.

From the memories of ice cold pain and scorching blood.

"What do you need?"

You shake your head. Too much. You want this nightmare to be over. You want to wake up and things be easier. You want things you can't have.

You want to feel strong. Brave. Complete.

A hand, cool to the touch but accompanied by a warm gaze, turns your head. Looking up, as he wipes tears that have escaped against your will. "Do you want another doctor?"

Yes. No.

Maybe?

The ghost of Gran scares you as much as she comforts you.

Meredith Rin is top of her field. You know that. Logically it makes no sense, to turn down the woman who can have your back, get you through this.

If you want to move forward, you have to try. You have to.

"No." You choke out, shaking your head in his grasp, leaning into his palm, "No."

He seems relieved, face relaxing a little, "Very well, I've read her recommendations, testimonies from patients. I trust her abilities."

If he trusts her, you think you can too. You trust him right now, more than you can ever hope to trust yourself. Scared of ghosts and monsters lurking in the shadows.

Scared of yourself.

"Do you want to go home?"

Yes. You do. You do. You want to be anywhere but the hospital. You're so very tired of hospitals.

It is the feeling of fatigue. The feeling of knowing the corridors better than you want to. Of knowing the faces of the doctors. Of knowing the other patients who visit frequently.

It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench.

"Darling." His thumb eases, soothes, wipes at fresh tears, "I'm here."

You think about hospital appointments that Caleb had joined you for. How he'd written notes and focused so you didn't have to. Keeping you tethered.

Zayne looks at you with warm, beautiful eyes, and offers you his stability and his brain to keep you standing. Where you waver.

So you shake your head, "I can do it." You can. You can do it. You're not alone, you can do it.

"If you need to leave, tap my hand twice, alright?" It's an offer to escape, but it's spoken with pride in his voice, as you stand a little taller.

Your nod is firmer than before, and this time when he picks up the prosthetic, you can look at it a little longer. Maybe soon you'll look at it and look forwards.

—-

Rafayel is trying to focus on his work. He has an exhibition coming up, that he would cancel if he didn't have some degree of guilt for the stress it would cause Thomas. He doesn't mind tormenting the man occasionally, but breaking promises… it's not something he can bring himself to do. He's not a hypocrite.

If he waited every year for you to return to that beach, he'll carry out the promises he's made to finish his art.

He's only half paying attention to his canvas, though. Paint on his brush drying in the air, because he keeps looking over at you.

You're sat with Xavier, as you work through exercises to help with balance. He can see the strain in your back. A loose vest worn so you don't rub at the shoulder. You wince, but push.

Rafayel's paintbrush is set to the side, sketchbook picked up, and he works.

You are a vision in charcoal, when you finish an exercise you exhale in relief, before moving on. Every hurdle cleared no matter how tall, has you stabilise. Visibly relaxing, flinching less when Xavier's hands touch you. The prince is careful, gentle and observant.

There's life to his page again, he isn't sure he'll ever show you the sketches of you like this. Scars on your skin, hurting, but he keeps it in case there is a day you ask. So he can show you that you live and you move. That stumbling and hurting is ok.

Rafayel records you in sketches because he values every version of you, and he hopes one day you see that, and believe it.

As you finish for the day, falling to the floor, lying down. Breathing heavily, and worn out fully. He hears a soft laugh, "I'll get some water." The prince heads off to the kitchen, while Rafayel puts his work down, closing the sketchbook carefully, and approaching you. So that he can look at you, upside down, nose inches from yours.

"Hey cutie. Nice work."

You hesitate before smiling. It's not the smile you've worn before, but it's not a fake one. It's just tired. He might not understand the feeling fully, but he knows how hard struggling is. How it drains you. He also knows that no matter how proud you can be, stubborn and biting at the bit to be strong, that he should commend every action.

Even if you huff that it should be a simple achievement. It is not, not some days. Some days, he watches you give in. Some days, you power through better than others.

Today you almost gave up, before getting fiery and angry at yourself. Growling and forging on.

So he will commend you, because he wants you to value the effort.

"You're cute upside down too."

This time you do exhale a laugh, hand reaching up to poke his forehead. You miss, frown, and try again. "You're silly."

He joins you on the floor, lying with his head at yours, his legs up on your sofa. Face turned to you. Neither of you make a move to sit up, it is comfortable to simply lie, and stare up at the dimmed lights. "You're doing well."

A shaky exhale is his immediate answer, but you nod, "I'm trying."

He wants to say that trying is enough, he doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but instead he reaches over towards your hand, and takes it in his. He can watch as the furrow in your brow eases, frown easing a little. He thinks you're finally trying to rely on them. To find comfort in their presence.

To not feel alone.

"It's hard," You speak, guilt in your voice, like you're confessing a sin. He squeezes, so you continue, "I feel pathetic, and sometimes I feel angry. So angry." You look at him, eyes glistening and he nods, "I want to give up."

"But you don't." He offers, watching your eyes waver, you can't hold his gaze for long, but he knows you're still keeping focus on him. Grounding yourself. "I'm glad that you're working through it."

Your exercises exhaust you, movement is harder now so he watches you fray. You let them handle things, food, cleaning, so you can focus on recovery. Rafayel is pleased, smug almost, that his presence here allows for that. It's a warm heat in his chest, like he's watching the tides, because if he can help you stand up tall again, he'll do anything for you.

You don't speak for a while, simply breathing through, relaxing and calming yourself. He reaches his other hand over to brush hair from where it sticks to your skin, revelling in the small shudder he gets from the sensitivity.

He will always be too sensitive to everything you do.

Xavier sits then, on your other side, and he looks up as you look at the glass in the prince's hand.

You release Rafayel's hand, pushing yourself up, shaking your head at the offer of help, and lean over a little to take the glass. Xavier's hand stabilising your back.

As he watches you, Rafayel thinks about your impatience, to be useful again. Back in the field. To overcome the hurdles despite the fact you wish to give up, he returns to his sketchbook.

With a quick pen, a dagger takes pride of place in the centre of his page.

—---

"We are not eating fish every night."

"Who made you the boss?"

"Variation is important in a diet."

"Fish is good for you!"

"Except for one big one."

You leave your bedroom after a nap, to find Sylus, Rafayel and Zayne in the kitchen.

Sylus has instructions on his phone, as he chops vegetables, while Rafayel is sat on the counter, trying to… you assume sabotage his efforts.

Zayne has his head in his hands, trying to read what you can tell is your treatment schedule. "Can the both of you act your age?"

"Tell that to the fish."

"I have a name, crow!"

You feel the laugh bubble out of you unbidden. The image is so out of sorts, and so ridiculous. Sylus of the N109 Zone, and Rafayel the lemurian artist. Arguing in your kitchen. That's far smaller than either of them are probably used to.

While your doctor sits and grumbles at them, barely trying to keep them from killing each other.

They turn at the sound, three pairs of stunning eyes, focusing on you as you try to cover your mouth to keep the laugh from escaping.

It doesn't work though. You laugh, and you laugh, and you laugh.

It's almost hysteric. Like a collapse, like walls crumbling down, and foundations falling.

It's euphoric. A release of pent up feelings you keep struggling to let out.

It's relieving. Tears flowing with it. Hiccups starting, laughter into sobs, then laughter again.

It's stupid but it throws something off of you. A beast of a burden, clinging to your back. Trying to pull you down.

It settles at your ankles, clinging to you, but you can stand up a little taller.

The monster that lurks, that angers, that demands blood. The creature that tells you to give up. It silences itself, curling up, and slumbers. Not forever. It never leaves forever, but for a little while… it is chased away by the realisation that you have something still to see.

These foolish men, living their lives alongside you.

Sylus' eyes are molten pools of affection as he watches you, lips quirking into that small smile you know intimately. "What do you want, kitten?"

"Cutie will make the right choice!"

As you approach, sitting beside Zayne at the counter who wipes your face as you do so, you smile softly, "I want salmon."

Rafayel lets out a whoop, way too close to Sylus' head, who winces and glares at him.

"You truly are a cat, kitten." He tuts, but moves to the fridge to grab it from the groceries Xavier had picked up earlier before heading off for a mission.

Zayne had given him a strict list of food that are good to eat when you are in recovery… even if some cookies had snuck their way into the list.

You try not to think about how you should be out there with him.

Zayne lets out an exhale next to you, "Finally, that argument is over."

"The doctor was very unhelpful." Sylus inputs, raising a brow at the man.

"As long as it's healthy, I don't mind what you prepare." He pushes the schedule close to you, so you don't have to lean over to watch, "I've been making notes for what we can do at home to help alleviate the time spent in the hospital."

You blink at him, and he pushes his glasses up to smile, "Is that alright?" It's a small nod, you're not sure how to explain to him how seen you feel with them.

It's been a long time since there was security in your life. You wish it had come at a time where you also didn't feel like you're standing over the edge of the abyss… but the safety net you can see below you finally… well… going through the motions is looking less like a chore.

"When do you start your prosthetic training?" Raffy asks, swinging his legs.

You check the documents, because you truly can't remember much of what was said to you verbally, and you'd been avoiding reading them since you received them. "A week."

"I'll send a copy around to everyone, if you're alright with it?"

You nod, it's an easy thing to agree to. You think about them finding you curled up in the blanket. It can't get much worse than that…

"Is your exhibit going well, Raffy?"

The man in question jumps, and you think he looks a little guilty, "I have one more thing to finish, it's giving me trouble, but I'll get there. Promise you'll come see it?"

It's hard to promise anything, caught in jewel eyes, watching them like a shimmering luminescent sea. You don't want to let Rafayel down, if you can't go. If you're too tired. If you're sick. If you just can't bear to be out.

What do you want to do? Plays in a loop in your head. If you can, what do you want?

You think about how Rafayel holds to promises like they mean everything. You think about the feeling you have sometimes like you've broken one without meaning to. You think about how warm his voice is when he forgives you if you can't go out with him because you hurt too much or are too tired, long before now. In a way you can't fake your way through, despite how much you hate letting your body pull you down.

It's easy then. What you want… the picture is clearer.

"I promise Raffy." Because as long as you can, you will. Because he'll understand if you can't. If your body hurts too much, if your fatigue is too great, if you're drowning.

His smile is so relieved, so bright, you almost look away from him.

An artist could try to capture him, and fail a million times over. He is too beautiful, and too kind, to ever be recorded on paper or canvas.

"How come the invite wasn't extended to all of us, fish?" Sylus teases, flicking some water off his hands at Rafayel's face. Who instantly looks like a startled cat in response.

"Why would anyone want you there crow?"

"You doubt my eye for beautiful things?"

"I doubt your taste in anything but cutie."

The man laughs, amused and unbothered by the insult, "Perhaps you should paint them, I'll definitely appreciate the art then."

Despite your nap, as you watch them, as the room is warm, you find yourself leaning into Zayne. Eyes drooping, he adjusts himself to place an arm around your waist, "You should go to bed if you're still tired."

The disgruntled mumble makes him huff a soft laugh, but he allows you to stay leaning into his side, as he turns paper, and reads. "Your specialist's work is very clear." He hums in approval.

"Approval from Doctor Li." You manage to tease, "I'm in good hands."

"You are. Though it took a little while to convince Sylus of that."

The man in question half shrugs as he stirs a pot, "There is no compromise with your health Kitten, I'd drag a doctor from halfway across the world if I had to."

This time Raffy nods, as though it's an obvious thing. To have the money to do that. Or, you think in Sylus' case, the power to do that. You'd be a little worried about the doctor's state of mind though. Kidnapped by a criminal and dragged to Linkon.

"It'll be ok." You manage, though sleep is pulling you under yet again. The net is there, ready to catch you. You feel a kiss pressed against your head, but it is dim and it is far away, and you fall before you can respond.

[after-the-end-times]

Stupid Sexy Tree Trimming

Prompt: Tree 🎄 Rating: T 🎄 Words: 999 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Pre-Thanksgiving Christmas Tree, The Party shenanigans, The Inherent Intimacy of Tree Trimming @steddieholidaydrabbles Ao3

“Ok, who’s gonna be my fluffer?”

Eddie pauses with the front door still open, dried leaves blowing in on the fall wind, and blinks at what he just heard his boyfriend say from the other room. He has to imagine it’s not what it sounded like, so he just shuts the door and drops his bag and jacket by the coat closet.

“I’ll get your balls!”

Now that brings him up short, because Jonathon has who’s what?! What’s he even doing here? Didn’t Steve say they were gonna have a nice, quiet evening in?

“Ugh no. You’re not fluffing right. Here watch this. You grab here and pull up, down, over. And then repeat that. Up, down, over. Up, down, over. See? Much better.”

Well, now this is getting ridiculous, because what is Jonathon and Nancy doing here? And doing something that involves fluffing, grabbing, pulling...and balls?

Eddie finally makes it down the hall and turns the corner to see...a mess. That’s what they’re all doing here: making a giant mess that’s taking up every surface of the room.

And at the heart of the mess is Steve.

Well, Steve and half a tree?

Eddie gives an impressed whistle at the display, startling several of the kids who are sitting on the floor with piles of old newspaper and ornaments around them,

Steve looks up at him and his face lights up.

Oh yeah, Eddie will never get tired of that. Definitely one of his Top 5 Favorite Steve Faces™

“Eddie! You’re back early!”

Not one of his top 5 favorite phrases though. That one always means someone’s up to something.

“Yeeeeah, sooo. What’s going on here? And why is that tree naked?” He says pointing at the limbless tree trunk Steve’s standing next to.

“Oh! Ha, yeah. It’s our Christmas tree!” he gestures toward the tree and then to the kids bickering on the floor, “The kids came over and then one thing led to another and I was dragging the box down from the attic and they were pulling down the boxes of ornaments and decorations and I know we were going to wait until December to decorate for Christmas but-”

“Hey hey,” Eddie gently steps through and around the kids and piles of stuff on the floor, pushing aside a huge cardboard box, “It’s fine! I was just surprised. And confused. When we talked about putting up a tree, I thought you’d want to go get a real tree. You know, chop it down and drag it home, all that.”

He made it through to the other side, Steve taking his hands so he could step over a pile of tree limbs without falling on his face.

“Nope, no real trees in this house.” He starts taking the limbs from the pile at their feet and matching the colors on the stems to the little holes on the trunk. Eddie grabs up a handful of branches to hand them one by one to Steve.

He continues, “My parents used to get a huge real tree before I was born and even when I was little, but after a few years they realized it was the tree giving me terrible sinus infections every winter. So they got this tree and I’ve had healthy Christmases ever since!” he huffs out a chuckle, “They also realized it was a lot cleaner without the pine needles falling everywhere and no one had to climb under the tree to water it. So a win win for everyone!”

“Huh, didn’t know you had tree allergies.” He says as Robin hands him a pile of fresh properly fluffed branches. He hands a few to Steve and starts adding his own to the little slots.

Humming to himself, he blithely continues, “We’ll have to invest in one of these for our place then. Only happy, breathable Christmases for us!”

Steve sucks in a breath, “Our place?”

Silence rings out from behind him. Eddie turns to see the older teens gathering up the kids, Robin trying to stay behind and getting bodily shoved out by Nancy and Jonathon.

“What?” Eddie turns back to see Steve gazing at him, eyes shining.

“You wanna move in together? Have Christmases together? Even though we’ve only been dating a month?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

And there it is again, quickly becoming his #1 Favorite Steve Face™, that light beaming from his wide smile and scrunched up eyes, all right before he picks Eddie up and spins him in a tight circle.

“Yesyesyes, of course!”

They come to a stop and Steve presses a hard kiss against his mouth, Eddie softens it holding his jaw gently. He slowly pulls away to rest his forehead against Steve’s. They can’t stop grinning and softly laughing.

“Can we come back now!”

“Are you getting engaged!”

“I still have your balls!”

“Ew! Stop saying that!”

Laughing, Steve pulls back to yell back, “Yes! Come back in! No! We’re not engaged!” he catches Eddie’s eyes and whispers, “Someday?”

Eddie presses his own hard kiss against Steve’s lips, backing up far enough to whisper, “Someday. Also. Why does Jonathon keep talking about your balls?”

Steve throws his head back, cackling.

“Christmas baubles,” He gets out through a laugh. “Mike hates it, so Jonathon thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Oh, I need to get in on that.” He pecks a kiss on Steve’s lips before turning around, throwing an arm out in proclamation. “I get to hold Steve’s balls next! Hand them over Jon, you’ve had them long enough. They’re officially mine now, almost engaged and everything!”

Mike glares from his spot on the floor. “Stop. You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Steve?”

“So funny, baby,” Steve wraps an arm around him, speaking low in his ear. “But, maybe we finish this tree now and then you can handle some other baubles later?”

Turning in his arms. he leers, “Oh Stevie, I can’t wait to trim your tree tonight. But this time? I get to be the fluffer.”

[i-wrote-sins-not-tragedies]

Back in Austin - Chapter 4

relationship: dbf!joel x afab reader/you

words: 5.9k (This is a long chapter so hands off the wheel and lock in)

warnings: see masterlist for fic tags

ao3

A/N: This one is for you jj <3 (Fourth of July - Jrrmint)

You were elbow deep in folding chairs when your dad finally emerged from the garage with two mismatched coolers.

“Jesus,” he muttered, setting one down with a grunt. “We got enough beer for the whole damn neighborhood?”

You gave him a look as you straightened up, brushing dust off your thighs. “We? I was the one hauling chairs while you were back there playing Tetris with the coolers.”

“I had to find the good one,” he said, slapping the lid. “This one doesn’t leak.”

“Mmhmm,” you replied, dragging the last chair into place. “You know if you’d let me help before the night before, we might actually have our shit together for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. This was your rhythm. Chaos and all.

The backyard was nearly ready. String lights half-hung, the pool skimmed clean, bug lanterns already humming. The scent of grass clippings still lingered in the air from your dad mowing earlier. A soft breeze picked up, just enough to tug at the corners of the red-white-and-blue tablecloths.

He stood beside you, arms crossed, surveying the lawn.

“Not bad,” he said. “Pretty good for a couple amateurs.”

“Mm. It needed a woman’s touch,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “You would’ve just stacked all the beer under the trampoline again.”

“That was one time.”

“And nobody could reach them!”

He grumbled, but there was a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. The light caught his greying hair and his sun lined skin, and for a moment, you were struck by how small he looked standing there, how much older than you remembered.

He glanced at you sideways. “So. You settling in okay?”

You took a breath, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Apartment’s a wreck, but I like it. Feels like mine.”

Your dad snorted. “Damn thing’s probably not worth half what you paid.”

You gave him a look. “Mind your business.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. It’s a lotta money for a place with no working stove and a suspicious smell in the walls.”

“I’ve named the smell. He’s part of the lease now.”

Your dad huffed a laugh, then grew quiet for a beat.

“I just thought you’d stay here a while, is all. At least ‘til you got your feet under you.”

You softened. “Dad…”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, waving it off. “You’re too old to live at home. I get it.”

You nudged him again, gentler this time. “I’m still here every other day.”

He nodded, staring out at the yard. “I know.”

You let the silence sit for a second before clearing your throat. “Anyway… I’ve mostly been knee deep in drywall dust. Just some DIY stuff.”

He glanced at you. “You doin’ all that by yourself?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, too quickly.

He narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

“Dad.”

You smiled and walked toward the porch, calling over your shoulder, “You’ll see tomorrow. Everyone’s gonna be too busy admiring my beautifully placed citronella candles to care about anything else.”

He followed, muttering, “Damn candles better work this year.”

-

You woke early, sun already pouring in through the slats of your blinds. You rolled over, eyes still heavy with sleep, and reached blindly for your phone.

A new message blinked on the screen.

Joel: Happy Fourth. Pretty sure barbecues are legally required today, so I hope you’re doing your civic duty.

You smiled before you even fully woke.

You: Don’t worry. Beer coolers are already out. Flag bunting. Plastic forks. You name it.

Joel: Sounds like chaos.

Joel: Have fun, baby.

You: You too.

You pulled on your plain white sundress, the one with the soft cotton and a tie at the waist, and tugged half your hair back into a little white bow. You looked at yourself in the mirror, just long enough to decide you looked fine. Not too overdressed. Not too tryhard. Just… you.

You headed out.

-

The heat had settled in thick by the time the drinks started to sweat in their cans.

Heavy and close, the kind of warmth that clung to your skin no matter how often you ducked inside or dabbed your chest with a napkin. The back patio buzzed with lazy chatter, paper plates perched on knees, lawn chairs groaning under the weight of full bellies and long hours in the sun. The smell of grilled meat lingered, tangled with charcoal and cut grass, drifting slow through the air like everything else.

Your dad held court near the grill, flipping burgers and talking like he was running for office. Everyone wanted to shake his hand, thank him for the spread. He thrived in it, this was his thing. The beer, the smoke, the music turned too low to really hear but loud enough to give everyone permission to shout.

You floated between conversations, your smile beginning to ache at the corners. Every voice started to blur, old neighbors, distant cousins, people who’d known you when your shoes lit up and your front teeth were missing. You kept the coolers stocked with ice, passed around soda cans, and tried not to flinch every time someone squeezed your arm and said how grown up you looked.

Everyone seemed to have the same script.

So you’re back for good, huh?

Bet your dad’s glad to have you close.

Must’ve been wild livin’ out there in that big ol’ city.

Can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten. Last time I saw you, you were up to my hip.

You nodded, let out the polite laugh you’d been perfecting since the third guest arrived. You weren’t sure if it was sweet or suffocating, how every conversation seemed to be about who you used to be. Not a single one asked who you were now.

You were halfway through refilling the cooler again when you heard it, drawn out and saccharine, floating across the yard like a bell you didn’t want to answer.

“Oh, would you look at that,” a voice called. “I was hoping I’d get to see you,”

You turned slowly, the smile already forming, practiced and pleasant. The kind of smile you gave to people who still thought they knew you.

You turned, already bracing yourself.

It was Mrs. Everett from two doors down. Short white curls, floral blouse, perfume that hit you like a rose scented slap.

“You probably don’t even remember me,” she said, grabbing both your arms like she thought you might slip away. “You used to tear through my yard in nothin’ but your little underwear, chasin’ the sprinklers!”

You smiled tightly, heat creeping up your neck. “I remember.”

She stepped back to study you. “You’re a beautiful young woman now. You married yet?”

You almost choked on your beer.

“No, ma’am.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head, lips pursed. “Well, my grandson just moved back into town. Ryan. Tall, handsome boy. Works in insurance, drives a Toyota. I should introduce you two,”

“Oh, uh, that’s sweet, but I’m not really-”

“You like dogs?” she interrupted. “He’s got a lab. Real obedient. That’s important in a man.”

You blinked. “The… obedience?”

“Don’t get smart,” she warned, poking your arm. “Come find me later. I’ll show you his Facebook.”

You escaped with a mumbled excuse and a desperate need for shade.

-

Inside the house again, the kitchen was no longer quiet.

Two of your dad’s old friends had claimed the counter space, leaning heavily on their elbows, bottles in hand. You gave them a polite smile as you grabbed another drink.

“You get prettier every year,” one of them said. Mike, maybe? Or Mark? One of the M names.

You gave a short laugh, noncommittal. “Thanks.”

“You ever think about modeling?” he asked, eyeing you a second too long.

You pulled a cold beer from the fridge, keeping your voice neutral. “Not really my thing.”

“Shame,” he said, then added, “Bet the fellas are lining up.”

You took a sip to avoid answering. The other man chuckled like that was the height of humor.

You smiled, tight lipped. “Enjoy the party.”

You rinsed your hands at the sink and watched condensation roll down the side of your beer bottle, when your dad’s voice cut through the hum of backyard noise.

“Honey! C’mere a sec!”

You looked up, eyes scanning through the smudged glass of the patio door. The sun had started to slip lower, softening the edges of everything.

You moved slowly toward the door, your dad’s voice still in your head, following it like a thread. You slid it open with your hip, stepping out into the heat. The air hit thick and sticky, wrapping around your neck like a reminder you didn’t ask for.

You searched for your dad’s voice again, scanning the crowd, and paused for a second when you caught sight of two kids darting too close to the edge of the pool. You barely registered anything else. Just the wild squeals, the slap of wet feet on concrete, the way one kid nearly tripped on his own shadow. You tensed, heart climbing, ready to call out.

And then, just past them, near the back fence, you caught a glimpse of your dad. Laughing, gesturing toward the house. Standing beside someone.

You didn’t look at the other person right away. Just a man’s silhouette, shoulder to shoulder with your father, head tilted in that polite, half listening way people did when your dad got into one of his long winded stories.

And then you saw it.

The man’s weight shifted, right hip cocked slightly out, one knee bent just a little, like he always stood when he didn’t even realise he was doing it. One hand in the front pocket of his jeans. The other loosely holding a bottle of beer. You knew how he held a bottle of beer.

He wore a soft, faded navy t-shirt that clung to his back and stretched slightly over his shoulders. His hair was messy from the sun, curls flattened in some places like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. You knew that shirt. You’d clutched it in your fists. You’d fallen asleep against that shoulder.

You stopped moving.

Every part of you just… froze.

Because it was Joel.

You barely had time to react. Barely had a second to process what the hell was happening, why he was here, how this was possible, before your dad’s voice rang out again, cheerfully, like he was announcing something harmless.

“Ah! There she is!”

Joel turned with a smile already forming, one of those casual, easy ones he wore when he wasn’t trying. But the second his eyes found yours, the smile dropped.

His whole face changed. His shoulders locked up.

You didn’t breathe.

And neither did he.

“Joel, this is my daughter!” your dad was saying, grinning ear to ear.

His expression didn’t shift at first, just eyes wide, jaw tight, like his brain was scrambling for context, timeline, reason. Yours wasn’t doing any better. Your fingers were frozen around the bottle. You couldn’t move.

“Been my best buddy while you shipped off to college,” your dad added, clearly oblivious. “Told him all about you.”

Joel blinked.

You blinked.

The air between you twisted, taut as fishing line.

Your dad looked between you both, clearly noticing the silence. “You two alright?”

Joel spoke first, his voice off kilter. “Eh, yeah. Hey. Joel.”

You nodded quickly. “Hi. Joel.”

You shook his hand. His grip was firm but hesitant, the warmth of it sending a shock through your wrist straight to your chest.

You couldn’t look directly at him. Not without thinking about his mouth on yours. His hands in your hair. The fact that he had been between your thighs forty-eight hours ago.

Your father slapped him on the back, laughing. “Go get this man a beer, will ya?”

“Yeah. Sure,” you said automatically.

You turned and walked away, back toward the kitchen on legs that barely worked, the bottle sweating in your grip. Everything inside you buzzed with disbelief, your skin hot with it.

Joel.

Your dad’s best friend.

The man who had been to this house. Who knew your name before you ever told him. Who had likely heard stories about you years before you ever saw his face across that bar.

And now he was here.

With your father.

Like this wasn’t the cruelest, most ridiculous twist of fate imaginable.

-

You didn’t know how long you stood in the kitchen, gripping the neck of the beer bottle like it might anchor you to the floor.

You barely even felt your legs move when you finally walked it back out, held it out to Joel without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks, honey,” your dad said, already halfway into another story with someone else nearby.

Joel took the bottle from you slowly, brushing your fingers as he did. It was subtle. Accidental. But your breath caught.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

The tension crawled under your skin like electricity. Every time he spoke, every time he shifted beside your dad, you felt it. Like gravity bending toward him. Like your body already knew the weight of his hands and wanted more.

You stayed busy.

That was your plan.

You helped serve food. Passed out drinks. Checked the pool. Smiled through more “You look just like your mother” comments and side hugs from people you didn’t recognise.

But Joel was always there. Somewhere in your periphery.

Leaning against the fence, bottle in hand. Sitting in one of the old lawn chairs, legs spread like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Laughing softly at your dad’s jokes. Talking to the people you grew up around like he belonged there.

Because he did.

Because he’d been here before.

…You needed a minute.

You ducked into the house again. Headed for the bathroom just to catch your breath.

The door swung open behind you before you could close it fully. Joel’s hand braced against the wood, his body blocking the doorway.

He stepped inside before you could think to say anything, his broad body filling the small bathroom like he was made to take up space there. The door clicked shut behind him, and the noise of the party vanished.

Just you. Just him.

His eyes locked on yours, stormy and searching.

“What the fuck?” you breathed.

Joel didn’t answer right away. His jaw was clenched tight, chest rising and falling like he’d just run across the house. “I had no idea.”

“You’re my dad’s best friend,” you said, your voice sharp and stunned. “I feel like I can’t breathe.” You leaned back against the sink, stomach twisting.

Joel raked both hands through his hair and turned away like he couldn’t even look at you, then turned right back because he couldn’t not.

“He never showed me pictures,” Joel said, voice rough. “I mean, he’s talked about his daughter before, sure, but I couldn’t even remember what he said your name was.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“I’ve been having sex with my dad’s best friend.” The words tasted like heat and guilt and something else you didn’t want to name.

Joel made a quiet sound like he might laugh, or maybe throw up. “Fuck.”

You both stood there, silent for a moment. The kind of silence that crackled.

You watched him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We should stop.”

You nodded. “Yeah. We should.”

Another pause.

Neither of you moved.

Your eyes scanned him like they couldn’t help it. The scruff at his jaw, the way he looked in that fitted shirt like he had no right being here, in your dad’s house, looking like that.

You hated how badly you wanted him.

His eyes met yours, dark and full of something wild. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been all day,” he said, voice rough, “watching you walk around in that little dress?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” His gaze raked down your body, slow and deliberate. There was nothing soft about the way he looked at you now, just hunger, raw and dangerous.

He took a step toward you. Then another. You didn’t move, until his presence became too much, and instinctively, you began to back away. Step by step, breath catching, until the small of your back gently hit the edge of the bathroom counter. You stopped. He didn’t.

Joel loomed in front of you, tall and sure and seething with tension. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, barely breathing. You should’ve said no. Should’ve told him you couldn’t, shouldn’t, after what you both just found out.

But your lips wouldn’t form the words.

He reached for you with a touch that contradicted everything burning in his expression. Soft. Testing. His hands slid down to your hips, then lower, cupping your ass as he leaned in and lifted you with ease onto the countertop. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you gasp.

“Joel-”

“Shhh,” he whispered, gaze locked on yours.

You watched as his eyes dropped to your thighs, your dress pushed up high. He slid his hand slowly up the inside of your leg, fingertips dragging along your skin, until he reached the soaked fabric of your panties. His smirk was nothing short of wicked.

“Already wet so for me?” he murmured. “You’ve soaked these, baby. Look at you.” He tutted under his breath, like he expected better, but the heat in his eyes betrayed him.

He hooked the fabric to one side with practiced ease and, with the other hand, unzipped his pants. The sound was deafening in the silence.

You gasped as his cock pushed in, stretching you slowly, deliberately. Your hands flying to his shoulders as your body adjusted to the feel of him.

He stayed close, forehead nearly touching yours, eyes never leaving your face. His thrusts were slow, devastatingly controlled, like he wanted you to feel everything.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, baby,” he growled, hips rolling into you with precision. “D’you know that?”

You could barely nod, the breath knocked from your lungs.

“Use your words,” he said, voice low but sharp.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His thumb stroked your jaw, the other hand braced on your thigh. “You gonna be a good girl for me? Stay quiet while I fuck you in your daddy’s house?”

“Yes,” you breathed again.

“Good girl.”

And then he pulled you closer, hands gripping your thighs as his pace changed, no longer slow. He thrust into your soaking pussy, hard, sharp, skin slapping against skin. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the sound, but when his hand dropped to touch you swollen clit, just the right pressure, just the right spot, you moaned in pleasure, the sound breaking out of you before you could stop it.

Joel’s hand came up fast, covering your mouth. “Shhh, baby,” he whispered, thrusting deep. “You’re doin’ so good, but you gotta stay quiet.”

It was too much. You came hard, your body trembling, back arching against the mirror. Joel cursed as he followed, hips stuttering, pulling you down onto him one last time as his cum spilled inside you.

His hand dropped from your mouth, and he leaned in, kissing you once, slow and deep, before pulling back and tucking himself away. You were still gasping for air.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, heart racing.

Then you heard it.

Your name, faintly, shouted from outside. A man’s voice.

Your dad.

“Fuck,” you said, eyes wide.

Joel’s head snapped toward the door. You both froze.

You jumped down from the counter, frantically smoothing your dress, trying to tame your hair, your breath. “Oh my God,” you whispered, over and over, panic rising in your chest. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Joel was still adjusting his clothes as you slipped out of the bathroom and hurried down the hall. You found your dad outside, standing by the grill, mid-conversation with a neighbor. He barely looked up when you joined him.

You tried to act normal, even though your panties were soaked with his cum, the evidence of what you’d done still warm between your thighs.

Minutes later, you caught sight of Joel stepping through the kitchen doors, calm as anything, except for the way he ran a hand through his hair, still slightly disheveled.

Only you noticed.

Only you knew.

And your skin still burned where he’d touched you

-

The sun dipped lower. The party began to thin.

Most of the older guests took their leave with soft hugs and empty casserole dishes, waving off offers of help and praising your dad’s barbecue like it was sacred. Kids were wrapped in towels now, clustered near their parents. Laughter mellowed into easy conversation.

You wandered back toward the patio, beer in hand, feeling wrung out and wired at the same time.

Joel was already seated at a small round table tucked into the corner. One of the folding chairs was pulled out slightly, just enough.

You took it.

Neither of you said anything for a moment. Just watched the sky bleed into soft pinks and blues as dusk settled over the neighborhood.

Then you exhaled.

“I can’t believe you’re my dad’s fucking best friend, Joel.”

He groaned quietly.

You glanced at him.

He wasn’t looking at you. Just rubbing a hand over his jaw, eyes still on the sky.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted.

“Me either.”

“He likes you.”

Joel let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. That makes this feel real great.”

You stayed quiet.

He glanced at you. “You wanna end it?”

You didn’t answer right away. Then shook your head. “No.”

His gaze lingered.

“Me neither.”

There was something heavy in the silence after that. Something that made your chest ache and your skin feel too tight.

And then, of course, the universe had a sense of humor.

Your dad’s voice cut through the soft hum of conversation. “There y’all are!”

You straightened instantly, guilt flaring behind your ribs.

He walked over, grinning, beer in one hand. “I’ve been lookin’ for you two.”

Joel cleared his throat. “Just, uh, sittin’ outta the way.”

Your dad nodded approvingly. “Smart. Let the chaos die down a bit.” He looked between you both. “Y’know, I’m really glad you’re gettin’ along.”

Your stomach twisted.

Joel made a quiet sound of agreement.

“I was tellin’ Joel earlier about your new place, how much work it still needs. Thought I’d ask if he might come take a look. He’s a contractor, after all.”

Your eyes flicked to Joel.

He barely flinched. Just lifted his chin in that relaxed, easy way. Cool as ever.

Your dad went on, oblivious. “Figured you’d actually listen to a professional, since you won’t let me help.”

You forced a smile. “That’s okay, Dad. Wouldn’t want to trouble him.”

“Nah, honey, it’s really a mess,” he said, waving you off. “He should take a look.”

You glanced at Joel again. And this time, he looked right back.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, barely there, just enough for you to catch it. The kind of smirk that said he already had. That he’d been in your apartment. That he’d helped you paint those walls. That he’d fucked you against one of them.

“It’d be no trouble at all,” Joel said smoothly, eyes still on you. “Happy to help.”

Your dad clapped him on the back. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll sort something out.”

Then he turned, disappearing toward another group of guests, none the wiser.

You sat in stunned silence, eyes on the grass. Joel’s knee brushed yours under the table.

And then the first firework cracked in the sky.

You both looked up, reflex more than anything.

Red and gold bloomed across the darkening sky, followed by the echoing pop of another. And another.

The two of you sat there, side by side.

Joel’s hand brushed yours. Not enough to hold it. Just enough to know.

And there you were.

Sitting next to the man who had touched you like no one else ever had. Who had kissed you slow and fucked you deep and murmured your name like a secret.

Your dad’s best friend.

Watching fireworks.

[valentinebugzee]

Chapter 2 of Sonic Boom! Stone AU

Love, Trust, and a handful of thread

Finally Stone gets to serve eggman a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk

Sticks and Shadow form an alliance, besties with different trust issues yay

EDIT: I accidentally posted the unedited version on here so it's better to read the fic on Ao3!!

Meanwhile back at the cafe:

Amy apologized profusely for Stick's behavior

"I'm so sorry Mr. Stone, she's usually way nicer..." The Hedgehog's ears drooped

Stone shook his head "No need to apologize, Ms. Amy, she's not the worst customer I've ever had."

It was true because Sticks wasn't even a customer yet, she was a whole other problem...

She was getting close to blowing his cover, her theory was dangerously close to the truth, just who was that badger?

A nut job according to her friends, but she wasn't the first person to be suspicious of the human, the cops (well, cop: singular) were wary of him, warning him from causing havoc, "Eggman is enough work already!" to which Stone scoffed internally at, Sonic and his team do all the work.

He didn't want to defend "heroes" but had to admit even if it pained him, they weren't so bad, if he could divide his time between his job as a barista and his..hobby then he'd be able to maintain a somewhat normal friendship with the rodents.

Were echidnas rodents? He'd look it up later.

A little kid was sitting next to his brother eating a cupcake, his little brother started fighting him over it until it dropped for the older brother's hand.

Stone grabbed two cupcakes from behind the glass display and went to give one to each boy.

"Here you kiddos, free of charge." He smiled giving each kid a cupcake, he also briefly glared at their mom who just sat there and let them fight each other.

Sure he may be a villain but he will judge bad parents, he needed good reviews for his restaurant anyway.

Amy internally cooed at how nice Stone was to kids.

Sonic took the last sip of his coffee and patted his legs seemingly looking for his wallet, even though he wasn't wearing any pants, Stone made a face at that.

"Crap, I forgot my wallet, let me just scurry back home and grab some money, I'll be back in a blink of an eye."

"You don't have to do that, this is the first time you guys grace my cafe with your presence after all, your orders are on the house."

"That's so nice of you mister!" Tails beamed at the man, "Yeah a little too nice, you give out a lotta free stuff, money doesn't grow on trees y'know" Sonic said, there was no malice in his tone.

"Yeah, we all know money comes out of printers." Knuckles spoke between bites of his brownie.

They all stared at him for a moment.

Tails sighs "Remind me to discuss Knuckles's counterfeiting habits."

A loud blast from outside interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

It was Eggman, of course, "Told ya' Eggman would appear sooner or later." Sonic said to Stone, "Stay right here Stones, we'll protect the place."

The moment the barista's eyes landed on the villain beyond his glass doors his heart skipped a beat, suddenly no one else existed it was just him and that man.

That maniacal laughter only served to make the pink effect around him grow even brighter and more glittery.

Or however the hell you describe Shoujo vision in writing.

The team ran out to fight the man in the egg mobile, the fight went on for a minute while Stone stared in awe at the evil doctor, admiring his every command to his robots, and how determined he was.

"Why's your face like that, Mister? And what's with all the glitter?" the little kid from earlier asked

Stone realized how odd he was behaving, he'll have to get his act together if he wants Dr. Eggman to become his new boss.

Another laser blast hit the spot right in front of his cafe if it had been any closer it would've absolutely destroyed the entrance.

He quickly adjusted his clothes and hair and sprinted toward Eggman.

"Hey! You there! uh, sir!" Stone waved to the doctor, in return he raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar man.

He lowered his egg mobile enough to not have to raise their voices to hear each other, he yelled anyway.

"What do you want?!...and who are you." Dr.Eggman questioned, looking the man up and down.

Stone breathed in, "This is it, don't mess it up", he thought to himself.

The barista grins, "I'm Stone..my name is Stone, and this is my coffee shop, I was wondering if you could move this battle a little further away from my shop, I don't want to be destroyed...is all." Stone cleared his throat nervously.

Eggman stared at him for a moment.

"Stone! What are you doing man!? He's gonna laser blast you!" Sonic yelled out, Amy prepared her hammer, ready to protect Stone.

But Stone didn't waver or spare them a glance, he felt like this was his first test, to prove how worthy he was, so he stared right back.

Everyone in this village has a staring problem.

"...and why should I listen to you?" Eggman snarled, if it was anyone else talking to him he would've ordered a robot to throw him in the ocean immediately, but he was intrigued with this "Stone" guy, if he was speaking honestly to himself he'd admit that Stone was the most beautiful man on this godforsaken land.

Which doesn't sound that impressive since every other man was an animal.

"um... please?" Stone awkwardly tilted his head to the side.

Eggman groaned, "Okay fine! Now stop glittering!".

And with that Eggman's egg mobile floated away.

"Glittering?.." Stone parroted, he shrugged and just sighed with one last glance at Eggman.

The team quickly went after him, but Sonic zoomed back in front of Stone.

"Okay I don't know how you did that but that was impressive." He smirked before speeding back to his friends.

Soon, the team went back to their previous seats, they noticed that Stone seemed a little happier than before.

Then Eggman appeared, without his egg mobile and robots that is.

Stone's back straightened and his eyes went wide, he smiled again.

"Welcome, sir." Stone greets him as calmly as he can, "It's "Doctor"." Eggman corrected.

Stone nodded enthusiastically, "My apologies, Doctor."

The Doctor asked the questions literally everyone else has asked already, "when was this place even built?", "What are all these coffees?", "what's with the red stain on the ground?"

"Let me serve you something special, Doctor." The villain raised an eyebrow, "Just go take a seat and I'll bring it to you in no time."

And that's what the doctor did.

Stone started working on his special order, He gasped a little when he turned around and found Amy and Sonic right behind him, "Dude, do you want us to get this guy out of here?" Sonic offered, "Yeah, you don't have to serve him if you don't want to." Amy added.

"No! No no, don't do that, this is exactly what I want.." He looked back to smile at the doctor, whose back was facing him.

Amy can recognize that smile anywhere, and Sonic recognizes that pink aura...

"Oh boy." Sonic moans, "Don't be like that." Amy giggled and nudged her blue friend.

"What?" Stone asks while already turning around to resume making the drink.

"Stone..is there something you want to tell us?" Pinky sways gently.

"uh yeah, customers are not allowed behind the counter." Stone tries to hide his crimson face from the other two.

"She means about Eggman, don't tell me you got the hots for a guy that needs his robots to do every little thing for him"

"I can do every little thing for him." Stone thinks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stone shrugs.

Amy and Sonic exchange a look before chuckling together.

"Okay, but we're gonna kick his butt if he tries anything, just signal for us whenever." Sonic and Amy return to their friends, who have equally smug looks on their faces.

Stone finally finishes the drink and servers it.

"Here you go sir-I mean Doctor!" he stammers.

Eggman looks at it suspiciously before taking a sip, his expression changes for a second before going back to faux annoyance.

"This is...good...what is it?" "It's a latte with steamed Austrian goat milk." Stone beams, Eggman takes another sip, and Stone stands there staring at him with fond eyes.

"What? Are you just gonna stand there? Scram!" Eggman commanded.

Stone immediately obliged with the goofiest grin on his face.

Sonic and his friends were severely judging him.

15 minutes late Cubot and Orbot barged through the doors, "We fixed the Egg mobile, boss!" the two robots announced, the cube-shaped one pointed at Stone "Hey isn't that the handsome guy with the stupid grin you told us about?"

Eggman quickly got on his feet, "What? No! What are you talking about!?" And dragged his henchmen out the door.

Stone was sure that he might just die.

___________________________

Sticks looked for the hedgehog, she knew this forest like the back of her claw, there were only so many caves she could look through before finding the morally ambiguous emo dude.

The purple glowing symbols on the cave's walls caught her attention, surely he was here.

She dragged her hand along the rough texture of the cave's interior, admiring it for a moment, she wondered if tails could decipher what was written.

"What are you doing here." She snapped her head around quickly to face the black and red hedgehog.

"You!" Sticks's grating voice echoed through the cave.

She stepped forward, "I need your help, this is urgent."

Shadow squints his eyes as if telling her to go on.

"There's this man- a "Stone" as he calls himself, he's pure evil I'm telling you!" She squeaked, "His coffee shop just appeared in the middle of town, and everyone seems to like him." She glared at the ground beneath her.

Shadow eyebrows furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, the badger's hands were at her side clenched tightly, and the hair on her head and back stood up, this was serious.

"What will I gain from helping you?" Shadow scoffs.

"It's what will you gain from not helping me, we'll all be under that man's mercy if we don't do anything." she flailed her arms around.

Shadow thought about it for a moment, he can't have somebody establishing dominance over the entire area, he can't let a lower lifeform do that...

"He wants to brainwash us all, I'm tellin' ya!", "and what good would that serve him?"

Sticks grabbes Shadow by the shoulders, "He wants to discover the village's most crucial secrets!" Shadow rolls his eyes "What 'crucial secrets' would this pathetic village even have?"

"Um, Comedy chimp's real name, the real secret ingredient in Meh Burger, Soar the eagle's shady past." She lets go of him and snaps her fingers, "Catch up, Shads."

"And why did you choose me specifically to help you?" he lifted his nose up high, "I'm sure the colorful bunch you call friends would love to help you sort this out."

"They don't believe me!" She screeched.

His face scrunched up and his ears twitched at her loud voice, "Chaos, I wonder why" The ultimate lifeform thought.

"And they're all probably brainwashed already! They ate and drank from that guy's food, it's definitely *full* of microchips." Sticks stomped her foot, "And I can't do this on my own, I need someone strong enough to handle him if I'm kidnapped!"

Shadow hums and thinks to himself...

Her theory sounded insane, yes, but anything is possible, he doesn't want to deal with the aftermath if they could deal with this before it starts to get ugly.

"...How about this." He approaches the brown and cocoa girl, "I need proof, something to go off of, I can't just dive blindly into action like I'm some...blue boy."

He puts a claw on her shoulder, "Prove to me that this man is something more than just a barista, then I will form an alliance with you."

Sticks's eyes light up with anticipation, "Deal!" she announced before grabbing his hand in a handshake.

He regrets this already.

__________________

The sun was almost setting, and Stone's off the clock.

He locked the cafe's doors and stretched his back, today was draining and eventful, now he had to go pick up some stuff for the shop and himself, and *then* he could go home.

He picks up the bag he was gonna carry groceries in.

From behind a tree nearby Sticks nudges Shadow, "Okay, he's out of the shop and he's heading for the market, we just have to wait until he's all alone, and *bam*! Catch him and make him spit out the truth!"

The hedgehog tapped his foot impatiently, "This sounds idiotic, if your theory about him being a government agent is correct how are you going to combat him to interrogate him?"

"I don't have to, I'll set up a net for him to tangle up in."

"Oh really? And how will you be able to do that if you don't know his specific path?"

"I'll follow him and when the time's right I'll run a few steps ahead and set up a trap."

Shadow snorted, "You can't possibly believe that you'll be able to set up a whole trap when you're only a few steps ahead."

Sticks crossed her arms, "are you doubting my skills? 'Cause let me tell ya' I've been hand-making nets, boomerangs, weapons, and all kinds of traps since I was a little cub! This is easier than..than.."

"taking candy from a baby?"

"Yeah!" she fumed.

"If you seriously believe that you can pull this off, then have at it, but I won't stand around and watch this pathetic display."

"Fine." She stomped and turned her back to him.

"He's gone by the way."

She gasped and stepped out of the tree's shadow and turned her head around frantically looking for the subject of her distress.

She turns back to Shadow, "This is all your fault-" Before she could point an accusing finger she realized that he had already left.

_____________

After a few minutes of looking and cursing Shadow out to herself, she finally found him.

She hid behind a stack of wooden crates staring at the human who was negotiating the price of some fruit with the merchant.

She sat there monitoring him.

The sound of the merchants, buyers, and kids all blended together as she started to space out, her thoughts becoming louder than outside noises.

Why don't her friends ever trust her? She was right that one time with Eggman's dreambot, was that not enough? Were her contributions to her team not enough?

And then here comes Shadow, her last resort.

They've only spoken once and at the end of that interaction, he dropped her from the sky!

The badger rubs her eyes before her tears fall, she was thankful that Amy wasn't here, the last thing she wanted to talk about was her feelings.

"I'll show 'em.." she mutters to herself.

She shifted her focus back to the government agent, he's been standing there since forever, what could possibly be that intriguing about fruits!?

She crawled out of her hiding spot and rolled over to hide behind a stand closer to Stone.

Her ear perked up as she tried to pick up on what Stone was saying.

"Beige berries you say?"

"I didn't say anything." The merchant deadpanned.

"A beige berry pie does sound good... you're prices are ridiculous though."

The merchant scoffed, "If you don't like it then how about you go pick the berries yourself."

"oh yeah I'll just venture into the forest while the sun is setting with zero protection just to pick berries for a pie, that sounds like a great idea."

There was a short pause... before Stone headed towards the forest to do just that.

"He's going to look for berries... I'll have to be quick and swift and precise, I only have one chance to catch him." she took a bite of her apple.

"Are you going to pay for that?" The merchant asked.

"Put it on the government agent's tab." she sprinted away.

____________

Stone admired the forest, which I will not describe because you know what a forest looks like.

Walking through the forest at this hour was rather nice, it was quiet except for some chirping and other animal noises, and the vague sound of someone setting up a net which he would gracefully ignore.

He thought about the pie he was planning on making, would the doctor like it? Would he even come by again?

Stone didn't know why he was asking himself these questions, he wanted to be the man's henchman, nothing more, nothing less, so why did the mere thought of him make his heart flip, jump up, kick back, whip around, and spin?

He shook his head, this was no way to think of his future boss.

He kneeled to pick the berries from a bush, that bush didn't have enough to make a pie, so he'd have to continue his walk.

His mind wandered for a minute, how would he grab the doctor's attention enough to get him to even *consider* Stone as a worthy henchman? The only things he knew about him so far were that he hated the rainbow furry hero squad and he treats his robots like garbage.

Oh, and that he loved the latte he served him. Stone beamed to himself proudly at the memory, if he could sell his latte-making skills to Eggman then he could definitely sell his evil-doing skills.

He should've spoken more to him when he had the chance instead of creepily staring at him from the counter. Stone's smile fell and he inwardly cursed himself.

Whatever, what's ahead of him is more important, he still has time to figure out how to win the villain over.

"He hates those rainbow critters huh..." Stone strokes his beard, "Maybe if I can catch them for him.. he'll see how useful I could be."

He giggled to himself in anticipation, he looked back up from his feet and saw another beige berry bush a few steps ahead of him, that one will surely suffice for the pie.

He trotted towards the bush, and all of a sudden everything was upside down and his bag was on the ground with the fruits spilling out, he had let out a shriek before coming down from the initial shock with a few deep breaths.

He fought against the restraints of the net he was caught in but it just wouldn't budge, his arms were tightly bound at his sides, and his legs were also bound together, he huffed and looked around for help or any sign of whoever put him in this predicament, all he found was a wooden stick to the head and then darkness.

______________

Stone groaned before slowly opening his eyes and quickly closing them again when the light assaulted them, which only served to make his pounding headache worse.

The sun had already set, and the only source of light was an electric lantern hanging from one of the tree branches, emitting a strong white light directly at his face, it brought back many unpleasant memories.

"Ugh..where am I?" His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the figure of a badger in front of him, holding his wallet, he knew this lunatic was going to be a problem, he could see a hut just a few feet away, it matched its owner.

"I'm the one that should be asking questions here Mar-...Mar-wane" She pronounced his name like it hurt.

"It's Marwan... honestly that pronunciation is more offensive than the stick to the head you just gave me..and being hung upside down on a tree." He rolled his eyes, thankfully he was off the clock and out of uniform now and he could disrespect people as much as he pleased.

And yeah his name is 'Stone Stone'

"Shut up!" The wallet fell from the badger's claw.

She stomped towards the man and pressed her finger against his chest.

"This is an interrogation."

"Oh really? I thought I was roleplaying a pea pod." Stone snorted but there was no humor behind it.

"The only role you're going to be playing right now is the victim."

Stone raised an eyebrow "Pardon?" he was unimpressed.

"That didn't come out right." Sticks scratched the back of her head, "But that's not the point!"

"The point is I want to know exactly who you are." Her voice got low.

"You were holding my ID just a second ago."

"I mean who you *really* are, I know that you're not just some barista." Stick put her arms behind her back.

Stone swallows.

"I see right through your act and I will not stand around and watch you hornswoggle those innocent villagers and my friends!" She circled him.

Stone made a face, *"hornswoggle?"* he mouthed.

"As much as I enjoy this 60's caveman detective persona you got, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Sticks noticed the shift in his tone immediately, she stopped in her tracks, and her jaw clenched, he was using his sweet talker voice on her and would spew out a bunch of bunk.

"I'm just a guy trying to get by you know?... My old manager wasn't the nicest, so I had to find my way, I quit my job and I just happened to have enough to move here and start my own independent business, just to serve happiness in the form of freshly made coffee." He fluttered his lashes

Sticks wanted about to barf.

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

"Unfortunately." His tone went back to his *real* one.

"Then explain to me how the crud did your shop just appear in the middle of town?" she interrogated.

"Let's just say that it was already built just...moved."

She squints at him, "And why did you choose this town specifically?"

"I just heard good things about it."

That's the biggest piece of horse junk she's ever heard in her life, the only good thing that could be said about this town is that you don't have to go there.

Sticks decided that she needed to try a different approach, accusations.

"I know exactly what you are."

"...Why did you ask then-"

Sticks clutched Stone's shirt in her hand and pulled his hanging form towards her until they were nose to nose.

She inhales, "You're a government agent that's her to plant microchips into our food to brainwash us and learn all of our secrets to rule this village and turn us all into soldiers! and when that works out for you you'll be promoted to general and then betray your agency and who knows what else!" She exhaled and pants.

Stone looked at her in a way that could only be described as something between disbelief, anger, and exhaustion.

"Why would I plant microchips into your food...When I could just use your damn phones for that?! And what agency!?" Stone argued.

"Because I don't got a phone, so you can't control my brain."

Stone closed his eyes tightly for a second and took a deep breath, she's so lucky he has his arms tied.

"The only way your brain would prove useful is if I scoop it out of your carcass with a screwdriver." Stone countered, making the author debate whether they should change the fic's rating or not.

"Your threats don't scare me."

The human sighs deeply and prays that this is all just a very bad poised-berries-induced nightmare, "Can you at least put me down? It's hard to focus with all the blood rushing to my head."

"No! You don't deserve to be put down! You will stay right there like an oversized bat mutant until I can prove to my friends that they can trust me." she let go of him and crossed her arms, continuing her previous route of circling him.

Stone's expression faltered at the confession.

"Your friends don't trust you?"

Sticks pressed her lips together, there was something more genuine about Stone's shift in tone, perhaps pity.

"Not usually..or maybe they do-or-ugh!" Sticks made a noise of frustration that was equivalent to a chihuahua choking on a kazoo.

The badger sits down on a conveniently placed rock, "I dunno..."

"At first I thought it was because they don't trust my intuition," By intuition, she meant insane theories, "But I haven't even had a conversation with Shadow before today, and he also doesn't trust me!" She kicks the ground in frustration.

Stone hated this badger, he truly did, but that didn't mean he didn't feel at least a little bit of empathy for her, he went through something similar himself.

"..it sounds like to me that this is more about proving yourself than proving me evil."

The badger wailed, "That ain't it it's- it's about both... maybe." she rubbed both hands through her hair frantically, "I hate feelings talk! I'm so glad Amy isn't here she would've- wait a minute." she paused abruptly through her vent.

Her head slowly turned to the hanging man, she jumped from her seat "You're changing the subject!"

"Oh, am I?" He rolled his eyes, though he wasn't sure if he was actually changing the subject or that he cared, His moral compass was jammed.

"You're trying to persuade me into being vulnerable and talking about my feelings like a- like-"

"A therapist?" Stone guessed.

"A journalist!"

That checks out.

"This isn't working... I'll grab something to get you to talk, stay right there!" she ran inside to her hut.

He wasn't going to wait and find out what it was.

It only took Sticks a few minutes to emerge from her home with a comically large feather.

"Now you'll think before you talk- where did he go!?" She yelped, and she ran towards the spot where the government agent was previously hanging.

All that was left was a net that was burnt to a crisp around some edges.

The realization consumed her before the anger did, "I was right... I'm not paranoid...I was right!!" she pumped her fist in the air, the feather long forgotten.

Her friends were going to be so sorry when they find out just how wrong they were, she started doing her little "I told you so" dance over the burnt net.

"What are you doing?" a hoarse voice a few feet behind her interrupts her short victory shimmy, she screeches.

"Shadow?!" She was almost happy to see him, almost, before she remembered that she was mad at him, she crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Shadow kneels down over the ruined net, "These burn marks... they're precise, it was a machine that had done this."

"You were right," Shadow said the words with hesitation, he hated being wrong.

Shadow narrowed his eyes when no reply came, the badger just glanced at him with one eye for a second before shutting them again and turning further away.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She huffs and takes another step further away.

"Seriously?" He approaches her, "What has gotten into you? I don't have time for this foolishness."

"And I ain't got time for jerks either." She huffs.

"Is this about the trap thing?"

No reply, but she did turn slightly to glare at him.

"I was... wrong, okay? Now get over it."

She turned around again, they were back to square one.

"What do you want an apology?"

Sticks made a noise of frustration before sitting back down on the rock she was sitting on earlier.

"Speak up!" Shadow's patience was running thin.

"I want to understand why you don't trust me! You don't know me!"

"That's exactly why I don't trust you."

The badger's ears twitched, "oh.. that makes a little sense." her ears drooped.

The red and black hedgehog didn't want to get sappy with one of Sonic's hooligans but seems like he'll have to in the meantime.

He sat on a conveniently placed log next to the conveniently placed rock.

"I am..." He sighed, "I'm sor..." He groaned, "Sorry." it looked like he wanted to throw up, he looked down at his feet, "If we want to make this alliance work, we're going to have to trust each other from now on, happy?"

He looked down at his feet, he had the faintest blush on his cheeks, wow he was much worse than Sticks at this feelings thing.

Sticks smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "No worries Shads', I forgive ya'."

"Never call me that." Shadow stands up. "Let's discuss our next move tomorrow, he probably already went home by now."

"Let's kidnap him!"

"Yes because kidnapping a man from his home would make people trust you way more." He snarked.

"Oh, you're right, that's why we need each other."

"I don't need anyone."

"Oh yeah? Why're you teaming up with me then?" she teased, leaning her face uncomfortably closer to his.

"Don't push your luck." He grabbed her face and pushed it away.

_______________

Does anybody else have this problem where they write so so much but there are more words than events actually happening? yeah same

sorry for the abrupt ending lol

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 5 - The Next Morning

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings/mentions of: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, there's some bra talk and bra scenes, an attempt at writing flirting...

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

The pyro archon is more than a trained warrior, a strategic mind, lightning fast reflexes, impeccable senses... and yet, she remained sleeping as you rummaged in your bag for another shirt. Finally finding one, you dropped your bag into the chair, moving to tug it over your head.

"Well, this is a sight I haven't seen in a while..." a squeak escaped your lips, turning to spot Mavuika staring at your exposed body from the bed the two of you had slept in last night. "You don't need to hide, my love." Mavuika began to pout, noticing how you were holding the shirt over your chest and stomach to shield it from view.

"I... I just got back from breakfast and I'm kind of bloated. It's not pretty." Your words were laced with the truth, you had snuck out to breakfast, having grown hungry and craving Xocoatl and Cups O' Grainfruit. The bloating wasn't from that however...

"This is new..." Mavuika ran her fingers over the your shoulder, eyeing the bra strap with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Good morning to you too..." you hummed, leaning into her touch, her lips beginning to trace down your neck, "don't get any ideas, especially since you ripped the last one."

"I remember, I liked that one, but you looked better without it." Mavuika admitted, trailing her fingers further down your body until you began to squirm.

"That tickles!" the giggles began to escape your lips, the pyro archon's face lighting up at the sound, reminding you of an excited puppy whose tail was quickly wagging side to side.

Unfortunately the fun with your lover was forced to come to an end, as a voice grew closer towards your room at the inn.

"Chasca, are you sure she stayed here last night?" Chuychu sighed, turning towards her older sister, who had been leading the way since the two arrived at the Stadium.

"Mualani told Kachina and Xilonen that Atea had her walk our younger sister back here for the night. I spoke to Chanca, she served her breakfast then she went back to her room, which should be... this one." Chasca replied, heading towards your inn room door.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door as Mavuika's arms tightened around you instinctively. You could pray, but praying to the archon whose arms were currently around you was slightly pointless. Still, you were praying your sisters for once in their lives knocked on the door instead of barging in.

If they barged in, all the pieces would be revealed prematurely. Your sisters would find out it was Mavuika who you were dating and the mother of your baby, and Mavuika would find out you were having her baby...

Chuychu and Chasca continued to talk to each other, but the words weren't reaching your ears as you heard a knock, turning your head to see how Mavuika was reacting. Maybe she would jump out the window and escape? Was she even ready for your sisters to know?

Time was running out...

"Maybe she's asleep. Or this isn't her room. Chasca, I did ask if you were sure-"

"I thought I was... maybe we should wait at a table until she shows up." Your sisters moved away from the door, heading towards the dining area, "do you think she's spoken to whoever she's dating yet?"

"She'll probably have tried to but struggled with words. You remember how long it took her to talk when mom and dad took her in?" Chasca admitted, frowning slightly at the memory.

"They're gone, you're okay..." Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, "I'm sorry, this stress can't be good for you, or the baby."

She could feel the way your body tensed, hearing your breath hitch as you shakily looked up at her, "you know?"

"I only figured it out this morning. Your sickness in the mornings, your fatigue, tenderness, plus this bra. Did you think I wouldn't notice that it's a size up from your old ones? But it wasn't those that made me realise. Your hand on your stomach, it reminded me of my mother when she was pregnant with my younger sister." Mavuika confessed, her hand hovering over your stomach, waiting for permission.

"Oh..." you barely made a sound, gently leading Mavuika's hand to rest on your stomach, letting the shirt you'd been clinging to for so long drop to the floor. "Are you mad I didn't tell you before?"

"You were afraid. My only regret is that I made you feel as if you couldn't tell me." Mavuika paused, hesitating for a moment, "you were going to tell me, yes?"

"Of course I was, it was just... hard to get the words out." You let out a sad sigh before deflecting, "at least after your 500 year plan is complete, a piece of you will still be here." You could feel your eyes water but you blinked back the tears as best you could.

Mavuika winced at the ache in her chest, realising that she had forgotten about that. Natlan had less than a year before total destruction... she needed to die to save Natlan, to save you and now the baby the two of you are having too.

"Chasca and Chuychu know I'm pregnant, but not... that it was you. They... ugh, they just know its a pyro user. According to Chasca, I look pyro infused when using elemental sight," shaking your head at the recollection of your sister's words, "I don't know if they're more mad about the secret relationship, or that I'm the youngest..."

Mavuika's fingers began to trace patterns on your stomach, listening to you with a soft smile on her face.

"Chuychu kept asking who 'defiled' me and Chasca muttered something about 'cutting balls off' when she thought I couldn't hear." You admitted, trying to hide your amusement as Mavuika grimaced at your sister's threats, her hand frozen as it touched your belly.

"She won't... archon or not, she won't." You reassured her as your lover wrapped her free arm around you, pulling you closer so she could lean in and nuzzle her face into your neck.

"How far along are you?" She tentatively asked, hearing your intake of breath as you did the calculations in your head.

"Nearly 8 weeks... I found out with my sisters when I was nearly five weeks. I went to Chuychu because of the vomitting, Chasca thought I was just having a check-up but then the conversation changed to periods, and I realised I was late..." you began to ramble, but Mavuika took in every word, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Atea figured it out. I don't know how, but she knows we're together. She saw us in the hot springs, late that night. She thought... ugh, archons, she thought the baby had been conceived in the hot springs!" you shuddered in embarrassment as Mavuika smirked, recalling that night in detail as her hands drifted down your body teasingly.

"Ugh, you! Archon of War or Archon of Horniness, I can't tell sometimes. My sisters are waiting for me outside!" you hissed in warning, although your tone suggested otherwise as you held back your giggles.

"I've missed this." Mavuika confessed once the two of you had calmed down, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I'm sorry-"

"Shush... you don't need to apologise. My role as the archon doesn't make things easier when it comes to working up the courage to tell me something so important. I only hope... we'll see each other more? I want to spend as much time, and be involved as much as possible before..." Mavuika hushed you, letting out a sigh as she remembered the burden on her shoulders. She had accepted her death over 500 years ago, but you and the life growing inside of you, made her want to live.

"Why would I deny you of that? I love you, Mavuika. I'm never going to stop loving you." You declared, holding back tears as your lover cupped your face in her hands.

"Never once in the 500 years since I was born did I think I would be blessed to meet you, let alone be your lover..." Mavuika leaned in, pressing her lips to yours hungrily, "I love you too."

"I wish we could stay like this for longer, but I need to see my sisters, and you have your duty as the pyro archon..."

"And what of my duty as your lover?" Mavuika pouted, disappointed as you ducked down to grab the shirt you had dropped onto the floor to put on.

"You have been fulfilling your duty well... and will continue to do so, but we cannot let our other duties lack- pfff!" you tried to be serious, struggling to do so at the pout on your lover's face, "you're adorable!"

"Fine, fine... I will see you later, my love, and my child," Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, her hand drifting to over your belly before she headed out... through the window? You didn't even think they opened?

"Wait! Don't tell anyone... I'm not far enough along, its too early to have many people knowing, so please-" you tried not to beg, but your eyes began to water against your will. Mavuika nodded, ignoring the capybara that awoke the moment her feet touched the ground.

"Archons... time to face my sisters." You whispered as you continued to get ready, heading out of your room at the inn to spot Chasca and Chuychu staring at you with their arms folded.

"Can you two not look at me like that? You're making me nervous." you cleared your throat as you sat down with them.

"Who was in your room with you?"

[pissclump]

This Is Gonna Get Worse Before It Gets Better

Chapter 1

HIIIIIII!! This is my first attempt at writing a multiple part fic with an actual story line, so if it sucks, PLEASE tell me. My original plan for the story was a Toby x Reader, but I may end up making it a Toby, Masky, and Hoodie x Reader. Anyways, I'll try to update as regularly as I can. Reader is depicted as female. This story is cross posted on my AO3 as well: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61232158/chapters/156483289 <3

Warnings: swearing, use of cigarettes, violence, eventual smut in later chapters

A frustrated groan escaped your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair. As if being a broke college student wasn't bad enough, you also had treacherous amounts of homework. Your evenings were usually spent with Kimberly, your roommate who quickly turned into a close friend. It didn't matter if you were out all night or just staying home doing nothing, you were content as long as you were in her presence. Tonight, however was different. Kimberly has been gone all day. And she won't be back for the next two. She said she was feeling homesick and insisted going back home to stay with her parents for the weekend. You were bummed about her being gone all weekend, but you knew it would be selfish to attempt talking her out of it. Which is how you ended up in your current situation; sitting on your couch with your laptop attempting pointless assignments until you eventually give up and submit whatever half-assed effort you gave. After at least three hours of repeating the same cycle, you finally had enough. In almost an instant, you slammed your laptop shut, setting it aside.

You stood up from your couch and stretched. Sitting in one place for so long can make you cramp sometimes. You're almost used to it by now. You walked into your room and grabbed the first pair of shoes you could find before leaving your tiny apartment. The stress from school never failed to steadily increase your need for nicotine. Luckily, your usual gas station was only about a five minute walk from home, so there was no need to take your car and waste gas. Swinging the door open, you were met with the smell of cheap air freshener. Behind the counter sat just the man you wanted to see. Mr. Kurtz was always a delight to talk to. He also had no problem selling you cigarettes despite the fact that you weren't legally old enough for them yet. You're only a year away from being 21, it's really not that big of a deal, is it?

"There she is! Haven't seen you all week. How have you been, kiddo?"

"Evening, Mr. Kurtz. I'm alright. Just getting my ass kicked by school and stuff. Nothing new."

The older man let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a huff and a chuckle. He turned his back to you, now facing the variety of cigarettes behind the counter.

"Let me guess. The usual?"

"You know me so well."

He let out another huff of laughter as he pulled your favorite brand from the shelf. He didn't even bother to ask for an I.D. He never did. Which was what led you to become a regular at his store along with his sickeningly friendly personality. You rummaged through your pocket until you found enough cash to pay your total.

"Thanks again, Mr. Kurtz. I'll see you again soon."

You grabbed the fresh pack of cigarettes and flashed him a friendly smile.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

Immediately upon exiting the store, you opened the small box and removed one of the cigarettes before placing it between your lips. You keep a lighter on you at all times. You fished it from your pocket and lit the end of the thin cancerous stick. Taking a long inhale, you closed your eyes in relief as the familiar flavor of tobacco filled your mouth and lungs. This is exactly what you needed.

The walk back home was uneventful. Finishing your cigarette, you stamped it out on the ground just before climbing the stairs to the small apartment you and Kimberly shared. With your key already in hand, you inserted into the keyhole on the doorknob. However, when you twisted the key, you weren't met with the familiar 'click' sound it always made while being opened.

“𝘏𝘶𝘩… 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.” You thought to yourself.

You jiggled the doorknob, and sure enough, it was already unlocked. You shrugged it off and stepped inside, closing the door back behind you. You stood in silence for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Something was off. You weren't sure what it was, but the moment you stepped through the door, the sudden unshakeable feeling of dread took you over completely. It was almost as if you were being watched. No, you 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 being watched. You reassured yourself that it was just your imagination, but your instinct told you to get out of there as quick as you could and never look back. Before you could process another thought, a hand made its way from behind you and was clasped over your mouth.

"W-we've got you n-now!~"

Your first instinct was to scream, however it was muffled due to how hard this fucker's hand was pressed against your mouth. You opened your mouth and bit down on the hand before you with all the strength your jaw could give. However, it only resulted in an increase of maniacal giggles from your perpetrator. He wrapped his other arm around your torso and held you tightly in place. You could taste the blood and small bits of flesh in your teeth from his hand and nearly gagged.

"𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜?"

The only other plan of escape you had was to try and struggle free from his grip. You tried your hardest to pull yourself free from his death grip, but your efforts were about as useful as a lamp without a lightbulb. You grunted in frustration as his hold on you only tightened. You then felt something cold and metallic press against your neck. You tried to crane your head to the side for a better look, but quickly whipped your head back up was you felt the sharp object slide against your skin. Small droplets of blood dribbled down to your collarbone as you hissed in pain at the uncomfortable sensation.

"You're a f-fuh-feisty one, a-aren't ya?"

"Who the FUCK are you?! What do you want from me?!"

Before he had time to answer you, you heard heavy footsteps coming from the hallway. Approaching you was a man in a white mask. It was painted with eerie feminine features, but what caught your attention the most was the crowbar resting in his palms. Your breath quickened with every step he took closer to you. You felt like you were on the verge of fainting from hyperventilation. This was the first time you had ever experienced anything like this, and you prayed that if you survived by some miracle, it would be the last. The masked man took a few more steps until he was just inches away from you. He leaned down so that he was at eye level with you and just stared before letting out an annoyed scoff.

"For fucks sake, Rogers, you've got the wrong one."

What.

"Huuuh? You mean sh-shes not our t-t-target?"

The man release his grip on you and you immediately collapsed to the floor. Your legs were shaking too much for you to stand on your own right now. Hell, your whole body was shaking. You looked up from the ground at the man who had restrained you. Like the other one, his face was also covered. Except instead of wearing a mask, he wore bulky orange goggles and what seemed like some type of mouth guard.

"No. But she is now. She's seen too much."

Oh, fuck no.

Adrenaline shot through your body as you stood up and bolted towards the kitchen. Quickly, you threw open a few drawers and looked for literally anything to defend yourself with. You wrapped your fingers around a large kitchen knife and defensively yielded it in front of you. This only caused the goggled man to let out another sickening giggle.

"Look, M-Masky, she's g-g-gonna try to f-fight back! H-how cute!"

The masked man let out an annoyed sigh, clearly losing his patience with the other man's antics. "Let's just get this over with."

"Get the FUCK away from me! Fucking psychos!"

You didn't have the guts to approach and attack them. Your mind raced as the masked man started taking long slow strides towards you. You then did the only other thing you could think of to slow him dow. You threw open the fridge door and grabbed the unopened gallon of milk with shaky hands.

"I SAID FUCK OFF!"

With all the strength you could conjure up, you threw the gallon of milk directly at his head at full force, causing it to bust open on impact. He let out a grunt of both pain and annoyance and stumbled back a few steps. He clearly was NOT expecting that. The goggled man began to howl with laughter.

"HAH! Sh-she got you good, d-didn't she, Masky!"

"Shut the hell up, Rogers!"

He turned his attention back to you. He was a lot less intimidating when he was covered in milk, but still intimidating nonetheless.

"You fucking bitch!"

He wiped the milk from his mask with his arm and practically pounced on you. Your back hit the hardwood floor with a thud, the impact knocking the breath out of you. You threw you arms in front of you in a pathetic attempt at defending yourself, but before he could lay another hand on you, you heard the front door open. Another man with his face hidden made his way into your field of vision. He was wearing a tight ski mask with a poorly drawn frown on the front, covered by the yellow hood of his shirt.

"Both of you. We need to leave. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere until I've bashed this whore's skull in!"

"You don't have much of a choice. Neighbors heard the commotion and called the cops."

"Oh for FUCKS sake!"

With that, he roughly shoved you back to the ground and released you before heading towards the door with the hooded man. They were both followed by the shorter male with the goggles. He turned his head towards you again before walking out with the others.

"I'll see you ag-gain soon, p-princess!"

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. You were unable to move from your spot on the floor. Tears made their way from your eyes as your entire body shook. You definitely weren't gonna be sleeping tonight after that.