#also as i was making this post my lights started flickering

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hit List pt. 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, smut, height school sweethearts, first time, nerdy reader, jock Jason, bad boy Jason, before Jason's death, prequel,

Jason got arrested while drag racing. Well, not while drag racing - He’d already won, leaving his opponent eating his audi's dust. The arrest happens after the fact. For assault. The thought made his eyes roll.

Translation: one clean punch to the sore loser who couldn’t handle defeat. But hey, he started it! It wasn't Jason's fault the pretty boy couldn't take a punch after dishing one out so bravely.

You were still catching your breath in the backseat of his Audi when you two heard the sirens. Jason's lips pulled away from yours, his brow furrowing as red and blue lights flickered nearby.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing at the rearview mirror. His jaw tightened as his mind worked out they were probably here for him. Then, with a meaningful look at you, he opened the door. “I think you should get out of the car.”

You blinked at him.

"They’re here for me," he explained, his tone disappointed. “Go back to your friends. I’ll handle this.”

"Come with me," you pleaded, clutching his arm.

He shook his head, pulling his hoodie back on over his head. "If they run my plates, they’ll trace them back to Bruce. It’s better if I stay."

The sirens grew louder. Reluctantly, you stumbled out of the car, gnawing on you lip in worry. You glanced back one last time.

"Go," Jason urged, a brief mischief in his eyes. "I’ll be fine."

You returned to your friends, doing your best to act nonchalant.

"Where were you?" one of them asked, thrusting a red solo cup into your hand.

"I had to take a phone call." You offer a fake chuckel, running your fingers through your hair, trying to unmess it up.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce and Jason got into a fight when the elder had to post bail that night. The ride back to Wayne manner was a silent and awkward one.

"The only reason I let you skip patrol tonight was because you 'had an assignment due tomorrow." Bruce shut the door behind them as they entered the mansion.

Alfred appeared at the entrance to take their jackets.

"I finished early." Jason murmered, shrugging at his adoptive father.

"You need to start taking your life seriously, Jason." Bruce grabbed him by the shoulder.

"By risking it running around wearing spandex with you?" Jason challenged.

Jason got punished for lying that night. Sentenced to having to do patrol with Dick for the next month. Bruce told him that if he hated his life with him so much, he could try his luck back on the Gotham streets.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce’s voice is low, but it carries enough anger to make Alfred glance up from his stitching of the gash on his masters shoulder. “He lied to me again, Alfred. Skipped patrol to go drag racing.”

"Did he win?"

Bruce glared at Alfred over his shoulder.

Alfred wasn't deterred. "Well? Did he?"

"Yes."

"Ah, to be young," Alfred replied, his tone even as he threaded the needle. "Filled with rebellion, rage, and on top of that an orphan. Quite the combination.”

Bruce huffed, leaning against the desk. "I wasn’t that bad."

Alfred’s brow lifts, unimpressed. "If you say so, Master Bruce."

"What about Dick? He never gave me this much trouble. He wanted to patrol.” Bruce argued.

Alfred didn't look up from his work. "Master Dick is a hard worker at everything he does. He was eager to please and found purpose in the work."

"Exactly." Bruce hissed against the pain.

"But he also had you.”

"Jason has me too," Bruce counters, his tone defensive.

Alfred pauses, the needle poised in midair. "You’re quite different with Master Jason, sir. Running Wayne Enterprises leaves little room for fatherhood."

Bruce didn't reply, but the words linger on his mind.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason tossed his books into his bag, his shoulders tense.

"You’re really gonna leave?" Dick asked from the doorway, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yep." Jason didn't even glance up.

Dick exhaled, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You didn’t ask for this life. But it’s not as bad as you think."

Jason slammed the bag shut and finally looked at his adopted brother. "Look Dick, you're a nice guy, but this life isn't for me. A room over my head and food on my table is a fucking blessing - don't get me wrong. But all of these fucking responsibilities? The training and running around at night in those ridiculous costumes? No offense..."

"None taken."

"The city’s never done anything for me. Why should I put my life on the line for it? For him?”

Dick shrugged, leaning against the door frame: have you tried telling him you don't want it?

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, like he'd let me quit. By the way, you're stuck with me for the next month. Sorry."

"I dont see it that way." Dick said. "So dont be sorry. And hey, I wasn't Robin for a long time. Only reason why I became Robin was cus I asked him to let me patrol too."

That made jason pause. "Really?"

"Try it."

Jason didnt say anything, the idea lingering on his mind.

Dick took a deep breath before leaving. As he went, he called over his shoulder, "let me know if you leave! I'm gonna turn your room into a gym."

Jason rolled his eyes, but there was a small grin on his lips.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Night patrol with Dick was actually tolerable. Dick’s laid-back attitude made the grind less unbearable.

"Watch this," Dick called out before flipping over a crate with perfect form and landing gymnast-style, arms outstretched.

Jason rolled his eyes beneath his mask but felt a pang of jealousy. "Show-off."

Dick was always good at all the tricks. Whenever Jason tried them, he was always to clumsy, too sloppy, and ended up messing up somehow.

Regardless, he took it as a challenge, running to the edge of the crate and jumping, trying his best to copy Dick's flip. He managed it, however the landing was a different story. He tried to land feet together the way Dick had but ended up losing his balance and having to fall into a crouch with one hand on the ground for balance and one hanging in the air. He laughed to himself because he unintentionally made a superhero landing.

"Not great," Dick spoke with the expertise of a gymnast and the lighthearted one of someone trying not to hurt your feelings. "Dont be too hard on yourself, though. I started training when I was five years old. You're a high school senior-"

Jason rolled his eyes under his mask. "It's this fucking cape. How'd you move in this thing?"

"Poorly." Dick mused, cringing as if he recalled a bad incident. "That's why I ditched it." He gazed down the Nightwing suit with a smile. Jason had to admit it looked cool.

"Nightwing, Robin," Alfreds voice cut their conversation, speaking through their earpiece. "A car chase in pursuit. Two black Buick SUVs pursuit by police on the grand highway, heading towards the exit to metropolis. That's near you."

"Copy that," Dick said, then to Jason. "Let's go."

"How're we gonna stop a car chase?!" Jason asked, bewildered.

"Just follow me!" Dick said, already breaking into a run.

Jason kept up with him, the sound of his boots running against the wet asphalt the only thing they heard. Until the distant police sirens grew louder.

"There!" He pointed towards a series of lights and on the highway.

Dick turned and nodded. "Take cover."

Jason watched as his adopted brother ran from one end of the road to the other, taking something from his utility belt and scattering it where he ran.

The buicks were nearing them, so Jason ran and hid behind a nearby crate and looked around the corner to see what was happening.

As soon as the cars reached their part of the road, explosions went off. Their tires popped, then lit up.

Despite his initial hesitancy, Jason found himself grinning.

"Hey-" Someone spoke beside him.

"Oh, Jesus!" Jason gasped, his fists blindly flying out. Dick stepped aside, dodging it easily.

"When did you get here?" Jason held his hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Just now," Dick said nonchalantly, before nodding to the scene. "What'd you think?"

Jason turned back to see the cars stopped and the cops pulling up, and arresting the men inside. "Not bad," he said. "What explosives did you use?"

Dick took one out of his utility belt, handing it to his brother to assess. "Oh you mean these little guys?"

Jason studied the tiny gadget in his gloves hand. "Its triggered by impact?"

Dick tilted his head, looking impressed. "Yeah, how'd you kn-"

"Do you make them yourself?" Jason interrupted, still studying the gadget. "Can I keep it? What sets it off?"

Yeah, this kid had ADHD, thought Dick, but he still wanted to answer all of Jason's questions. "Sure. And no I dont make them. Bruce’s buddy is a weapons engineer. He does this kind of stuff."

Cool, Jason thought, still wondering about the make up of the bomb as he shoved it in his pocket.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dick sighed. "He was plenty interested in one of these today. Maybe he should meet Lucious."

Bruce turned away from his computer to look at dick. "Yeah," he said with a thought. "Jason likes to break things apart." Recalling the story of how they met. Jason was a runt, taking apart the batmobile, planning to use the parts until Batman caught him.

Exhaled a soft chuckle. "Sure, someday I'll take him to meet Lucious."

That day never came.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

You had your own style outside the school’s strict uniform - a blend of rebellion and practicality that Jason couldn’t help but notice. Oversized baggy jeans slumped low on your hips, and that cut-off green jacket you seemed to live in. It was your favorite piece, worn so often that Jason could recognize it from a mile away. He remembered seeing you in it even before Gotham Academy, back when you were just the girl across the street, before adoption changed both your lives in very different ways.

He never thought he’d run into you here in this pretentious school with its manicured lawns and entitled students, but when you landed a science scholarship, he caught himself feeling oddly proud. Happy, even. You were like him - a kindred spirit in a place that felt like it didn’t want either of you. And he made sure you knew it, showing his appreciation in the most 'mature' way possible: tugging at your hair whenever he passed you in the halls, especially when you were with those same three friends you always stuck with.

Jason was walking down the empty school hall. He had just finished swim practice, water still dripping from his dark brown hair, when he heard your voice behind one of the classroom doors. He paused mid-step, instinctively drawn closer.

"Thank you, sir," you said, your tone carrying an unmistakable enthusiasm.

The door opened, and Jason ducked back, leaning casually against the lockers as you walked out. You were stuffing a folder haphazardly into your bag, your face bright with a small, self-satisfied smile. He couldn’t help but grin as he watched you push your glasses up with that familiar, unconscious gesture.

Then he stepped into view. "Big day-?"

"Oh god!" You startled, nearly dropping your bag as you turned to face him. "Hey," you gave him a wave in greeting, then you made a double take. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Swim practice. Six a.m. sharp." He shrugged, ruffling his damp hair with a towel. "What about you? Private meeting with Fischer? What’s that about?"

You frowned, glancing down at your bag. "That’s none of your business."

He smirked, undeterred. "Must’ve been something good. You looked very satisfied walking out of there."

"It’s called being polite," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Jason leaned in slightly, his grin turning sly. "Polite? Nah, that wasn’t polite. That was more like… out of breath squeaky." He raised his voice to mimick yours with an exaggerated nicenessm "'Oh, thank you, sir! Anything else I can do for you, sir?" He made a show of batting his eyeloashed, ignoring the unimpressed look you gave him.

Shaking your head, you smiled as you brushing past him.

But he didn’t let you off that easily. He fell into step beside you, his tone casual. "I’m just saying-if you’re gonna have a crush on a teacher, maybe aim higher. Fischer’s gotta be pushing fifty."

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. "He is not! He's thirty-four."

Jason’s smirk only widened, and you knew you gave yourself away. Trying to save face, you continued walking.

"So, what are you doing Sunday night?" He fell in step with you again.

You looked at him. "Nothing. Why?"

"I was thinking," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "we could go for a ride. Clear your head from Fischer for a bit. You know, balance things out."

You groaned. "Let me live." Though, you couldn't help but be curious. "A ride where?"

He only grinned, leaving the question unanswered as he turned down another hall. "Just be ready by six pm. Sharp.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason planted kisses on your neck, his hand sliding up your thigh under your skirt, before your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. "Did you bring a condom?" You asked.

He blinked at you in confusion. "Got somewhere go be?"

You blinked. "No."

"I'm not gonna jump straight to fucking you." He said.

Your brows furrowed. "Right. Of course not." You forced out a laugh, blinking in confusion.

Then his eyes narrowed. "Have you ever let someone finger you before?"

"...No?"

"Have you ever had sex?" His brow rose.

"...No." You felt your cheeks heat up, lowering your eyes. "I'm guessing you have."

He chuckled. "Yeah,"

"What's so funny?" You asked defensively.

"Nothing, nothing." He waved his hand. "Just..."

"Just what?"

He grinned a stupid grin. "Just... im happy."

Well, you didn't expect that response. "Really?" You asked. A small smile spread on your face. He wanted to be your first?

"Yeah," he lowered his lips, biting yours. "I'm gonne be your first." he grinned, feeling a wave for pride rush trhough him.

You couldn't help the smile on your lips.

He cupped your cheek. "I'm gonna make you come first, though." His fingers reached reach the top of your panties, pulling them down past your feet, leaving you only in your skirt and bralette. You dressed nice for him, hoping he'd notice, but you were guessing that he didn't care much about the clothes when you could feel his eyes focus on your bare skin. He lowered his mouth to your thinly clad nipple, sucking it through your bra. You arched you back.

Leaning back on your elbows, you waited for what he would do next. Suddenly, you felt pressure on your core, his finger sliding against your folds before settling on a sensitive spot and rubbing it. Your breath hitched as you arched toward him. "Oh."

"How are you doing?" He asked, grinning.

"G-good," you nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his fingers sped up. "Nh...when did you lose your virginity?" You asked. "How do you know to do that?"

"Porn." He shrugged.

You snorted. "And the first question?"

Blue grey eyes looked from side to side. "Last year, Halloween party at Jenna Wharton's house."

"Oh. With Jenna?" You blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. You weren't sure why, but the thought of him being intimate with someone made you upset. Even though you two weren't exactly exclusive...

He grinned as if recalling the experience. "Nah, Jenna's older sister. She was visiting from college."

"Oh," you nodded, swallowing down the wave of envy that rose up to your throat. "Was it good -"

His finger curled inside of you, causing your gasp cut off your own question.

"Shut up." He smiled, lowering to kiss you again.

Every movement he made that night was patient, his fingers trailing along your skin as though memorizing every inch. He came to kneel in front of you, bringing his mouth to your cunt, before licking up your slit.

"Fuck," your head rolled back. "Jason, please! Oh my god."

He groaned, grinning against you. He kept licking around one particular spot that made your breath hitch.

When he entered you for the first time, you both gasped. He paused before pulling out of you slowly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Too much?”

“No,” you managed, your voice trembling. “It’s perfect.”

Jason chuckled softly, the warmth of his body feeling dvine aganist your skin. His lips curved into that familiar, boyish grin, and he brought his lips to yours. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

"Me too," you smiled, feeling like you were floating as the intense pulsing took your core.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here...

Taglist

@x-gabrielle-x

[notlongtolove]

time present and time past

spencer tried to explain einstein’s theory of relativity once. and now, with spencer beside you in bed, you think you finally understand what he was on about. because time is relative. and if he doesn’t wake up, this moment will never end, and maybe you can slow down time itself.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst

content: situationship core. they argue. avoidant!-ish.

word count: 3.4k

note: i have a final in 3 days and thought now would be the perfect time to write and post my first fic. yay! anyways this is inspired by an old literature text i studied, einstein's theory of relativity and what not. a line: I’ll come to you before you call—Just to prove that I don’t come to you every time you call.

time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past. if all time is eternally present all time is unredeemable. - t.s. eliot

You've never been one for physics, the numbers, the theories, the science of it all. But that’s never stopped Spencer from launching into explanations like a rocket whenever the chance presents itself. You would nod along, a smile on your face though whatever he's saying might as well be in a foreign language. 

He tried to explain Einstein’s theory of relativity once. Something about clocks, something about a kind of gravitational field. 

"Think of it like I’m on the jet," he started, and if you try hard enough you can imagine him on the other end of the line gesturing with his hands in that animated way of his. "Now imagine if I run down the aisle—”

“Hotch would kill you,” you interrupted, biting back a grin as you tried to picture the sight. 

“Just imagine it,” Spencer laughed.

“Okay, okay.”

“So, if you time me and I make it down the aisle in five seconds—”

“Highly unlikely, but sure.”

“Angel,” he warned, but there was no real bite in it. He waited for your giggles to subside before pressing on, “It takes me five seconds to get from one end of the plane to the other. Right?”

“If you say so...”

Spencer sighed, but soldiered on. “But for you, timing me, you’d also have to factor in the distance the jet travelled in those five seconds.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. I do.”

“Okay, so explain it.”

You paused, your lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “Uh… You can run faster than a jet?”

Spencer groaned, but he was laughing too. “Time moves slower for those in the jet!” he said profoundly as though he was the one who had discovered the theory of relativity itself. “It’s fascinating really.”

“Ohhh” you sound, trying your best to feign understanding. 

“You know what,” he said between laughs, “I’ll explain it when I’m back, I know you’re a visual learner.”

But he never did. And so you never understood it, not really. At least, you thought you didn’t—until now.

Not until he’s lying in your bed again, your sheets tangled around him like they’ve claimed him as their own.

Einstein says that time is relative. He says that the rate at which time passes depends on an observer's frame of reference. 

The observer in this case—You. 

And if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them. 

Spencer’s asleep beside you. His face is soft in the flickers of streetlight creeping through the blinds. They give you just enough visibility to watch the rise and fall of his chest and you wonder if he's dreaming. The sound of his breathing, steady, is the only thing keeping you tethered.

If you squint hard enough, there’s almost something domestic about the scene. You ignore the fact that this is the nth time you’ve done this because ignoring is easier. It’s easier to think about how he smells like his shampoo, and how his shirt is thrown haphazardly over your nightstand. A sight you missed more than you would admit. You think about reaching for it, but your hand stays where it is. You stay where you are—just watching, observing. Because Einstein said the rate at which time passes depends on the observer’s frame of reference. And if you stay still enough, maybe you can slow down time itself. 

You like moments like these. The simplicity of it. You tell your friends the same thing when they ask, their voices thick with judgment, their eyes too knowing. “We don’t do anything” you insist to the room of raised eyebrows. “We’re just hanging out, you know, as friends” you say, as if saying it enough times will make it true.

“Just hanging out?” “Yup.” 

“As friends?” “Yup.”

You know you’ve hit a new low when you have to pull the ‘hanging out’ card, but you take a sort of comfort in that fact. Because at least he’s not like those other guys, right? That’s your silver lining. That it’s not like that. He’s not like that. But in the quiet after, when his breathing is the only sound and you feel walls closing in you, you can't help but wonder which is worse: the thing that he is, or the thing you’re letting yourself become.

You reached out first this time. A small victory in the game you’ve been playing against yourself. There’s some semblance of control in it, you rationalize. If you’re bound to fall, tethered to this fate of always crawling back, at least let it be on your terms.

I’ll come to you before you call—Just to prove that I don’t come to you every time you call.

Come over. Made too much pasta. You texted. It’s an olive branch, a peace offering after a fight that had left you both frayed at the edges. A throw of the same old ball back to his side of the court where the game has dragged on far too long. Proof to him that you didn’t mean what you’d said, that you’re not done yet. That you’re still okay with this.

You can take it. 

The fight had been about work—or at least, that’s how it started. He’d mentioned a new trainee in passing, his voice light, almost too casual, as he spooned rice out of the takeout box. “She’s new,” he said, with a shrug. “Eager, maybe too eager. Emily says she’s a bit of a people pleaser.”

She. You watched him carefully, trying to read between the lines. 

“Oh?” you replied, keeping your voice as even as you could manage. Muscle memory. You’ve been here before. Just because Spencer wasn't one of those guys didn't mean you haven't had your fair share of them. 

You smile as you meet his eyes asking all the right questions. Where’s she from? How’s she doing?

He glanced up at you, surprised by your interest. Light work you thought. “Somewhere out West, I think. She’s doing fine—rookie mistakes, you know. She had a bad day last week, though. Got rattled on a case. Garcia said Hotch was too hard on her.”

“Poor thing,” you murmured, “Hope she’s feeling better.”

“Garcia thought I… thought she was pretty,” he added laughing, the words tumbling out like an afterthought. Like the words don’t hold the weight that he knows it does. 

Ah. There it is.

“Well, did you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, casual.

“She’s… alright,” he said, his tone too high, too quick. You didn’t miss the way he swallowed hard afterward.

“You’re avoiding the question,” you teased lightly, smiling even though your stomach was beginning to twist itself into knots.

“I’m not,” he countered, shoving another bite of food into his mouth. “You asked if she’s pretty, and I said she’s alright.”

“You’re totally avoiding it,” you said, laughing to keep the air light even as the knot pulled tighter. “Spence, you can just say it.”

“Say what?” he asked, eyes darting up to meet yours, then back to his plate.

“Just say it.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Admit that she’s pretty.”

“Okay.” He exhaled sharply, like the word had been dragged out of him. “I think she’s pretty.”

Oh.

There was something in the way he said that made your chest constrict. 

I think she’s pretty.

He thinks she’s pretty. Not like it was some objective fact, not something calculated or reasoned. Not that she was statistically pretty, backed up by some symmetry or math behind it. He just… thought so—No, he thinks so. Thinks. Present tense. Meaning as he’s sitting here, across from you, eating the takeout you suspected he’d purposefully ordered too much of, he thinks she’s pretty.

You stared down at your plate, your appetite long gone. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the distant murmur of voices from the apartment next door.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his voice softer now, hesitant.

“I’m fine,” you replied too quickly, a smile pasted on your face as you looked up. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Pass the soy sauce?” He passed it without another word, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you finally said, your voice sharper than you intended.

“I’m not,” Spencer replied, his tone defensive, though his eyes stayed trained on you. “You’re just… quiet. It’s not like you.”

You laughed, a hollow sound. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve run out of things to say.”

“Is this because I said she’s pretty?” he asked after a beat, his voice cautious, careful. “Because I didn’t want—”

“Spencer stop,” you interrupted, setting your fork down with a deliberate clink against your plate.

“I wasn’t going to say it. You asked me to say it.” he countered. “And the term pretty is subjective anyway, I think you’re pretty too.” You stayed silent, not meeting his eyes. “Don’t be like that. You know I care about you.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” you shot back, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. You knew you were being petty. Acting like a child who didn’t get their way, grasping at anything to make the hurt feel justified. But you couldn’t help it.

“You just—you talk about work, about—god, about pretty girls and I—”, You stopped, swallowing hard, trying to tamp down the words you weren’t ready to say. “I feel like I’m just… here. Someone you call when you’re bored or when you’ve ordered too much food or when—”

“That’s not true,” he argued, his tone sharp now, defensive. “You’re twisting it—”

“Am I?” you snapped, your eyes finally meeting his. They were wide, startled, but it didn’t stop you. “Because I’m starting to think this is exactly what it is.”

“Well, what do you think this is?” he asked, his jaw tightening as his hands gripped the edge of the table.

“I don’t know,” you said bitterly. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Spencer said, his voice low and deliberate, each word cutting deeper than the last. “You said you wanted to be friends. Friends do this. Friends have dinner. Friends don’t force someone to admit someone else is pretty and then make it all—I don't know, all weird after.”

You winced, his phrasing like a mirror reflecting every misstep, every conversation where you’d backed yourself into this corner. He’s not wrong—you had said you wanted to be friends. But he didn’t know the weight behind that concession.

You’d thought back to those late-night conversations. The ones where he’d laid out his reasons like a clinical diagnosis: I don’t have the time. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I’m not ready. So, you’d waited, convincing yourself that 'not now' meant 'not yet'. But eventually, you’d called it yourself, told him you should just be friends. A sad attempt at controlling a situation you were only ever destined to be hurt by. Because your own destruction should only ever be yours to wield—and you have to claim it before it can claim you.

He’d agreed it was better this way and you’d nodded along. Not because you believed it, but because it was a way to keep him in your life. A lifeline you clung to no matter how much it cut into your hands. But labels don’t erase what’s already happened. They don’t undo the stolen glances, the kisses in the quiet moments, the nights where you felt like the only two people in the world. They just build a fragile scaffold over it all, a flimsy way of holding up what’s already crumbling. Dating. On a break. Dating again. Friends. They pile on top of one another like a pathetic plaster over the hurt of what you wished things could be. 

“Right,” you said finally, the word brittle and sharp as it escapes your lips. Your voice was hollow as your eyes met his, daring him to flinch. “So I guess that means I can’t expect anything from you, right? No decency, no consideration, no… nothing. Because we’re not in a relationship. We’ve never been in a relationship. Right?”

“Don’t,” Spencer said quietly, almost pleading now. “That’s not fair. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear what this is,” you said, standing from the table, your hands trembling as you gathered your things. 

“Wait,” he said, standing too, “You don’t have to—”

“And by the way, Spence,” you cut him off, reaching into your bag and slamming the extra key he’d given you months ago onto the table. It clattered louder than you expected, echoing in the tense silence between you. “You can have this back. Because last I checked, friends don’t have keys to each other’s apartments.” You were acutely aware of the venom dripping in your voice but you pressed on, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And thanks for the flowers, but I don’t think friends go out of their way to buy a bouquet to make up for every friendly dinner they miss.” You didn’t wait for a response. You didn’t look at his face, didn’t want to see whatever expression he was wearing. 

But the satisfaction of that slam felt distant now. You think back fondly of the girl who had made her point so clear, so definitive. A line drawn in the sand. But winds blow and sand moves. That girl seems like a lifetime away from the girl you are now—the one lying here, beside him, again.

Spencer stirs beside you, a quiet sigh escaping his lips, and your breath hitches. You don’t want him to wake up. Because if—when he does, you know he’ll leave. But until then, in this moment of temporary serenity, you can pretend it doesn’t matter. You can pretend it’s okay. You can pretend you’re okay. 

After all, Einstein said that time is relative. If he doesn’t wake up, the moment will never end, and maybe—just maybe—you can slow down time itself. You stare at the ceiling, letting the minutes tick past, each one stretching longer than the last.

Your thoughts drift back to what Spencer had said. Time moves slower for those in the jet.

Well, if your apartment is the sky, then this bed is the jet. In the quiet of this moment, his warmth beside you, the faint smell of him lingering on the pillow—this is where time bends. The rate at which time passes depends on the observer’s frame of reference. Maybe you can trick the universe, make these seconds stretch into hours. Maybe, if you stay still enough, think hard enough, the world outside won’t come knocking. You can freeze this bubble of peace.

But the illusion is tenuous, and reality looms like turbulence on the horizon. Time doesn’t truly stop, you know that, we’re all forced to move on along with it. They say time waits for no man—least of all a broken-hearted girl. The clock keeps ticking, indifferent to your longing. Sooner or later, he’ll wake, and the bubble will burst.

You wonder how long you can keep this up. You’d just been talking earlier tonight, telling each other what had happened in the days you hadn’t spoken since the argument. The words had come easier than you expected, though none of them seemed to solve anything. Spencer had fallen asleep mid-sentence, right as you were recounting something trivial about your day. His exhaustion was written all over his face—the heavy pull of his eyelids, the way his head tilted slightly toward you before finally giving in. You’d paused, watching him, and the words you were about to say dissolved into silence. You hadn’t wanted to wake him.

The old you would’ve been angry, the frustration bubbling up into sharp words and accusations. The fight was always the same, well-rehearsed and raw: You always do this. I’m sorry. When are you not? I missed you. Then why won’t you stay? You know I can’t. You can. I can’t. It was less of a conversation and more of a script. It had long since stopped being about what either of you said; it was about how you said it and where it always led. It would’ve ended in a fight, Spencer’s guilt countered by your hurt, spiralling into a familiar standoff with no real resolution. 

But that was the old you. She’d had more fight in her, more fire to demand the things she felt she deserved. That fire has dimmed now, not extinguished, but banked low and steady, like you’ve learned to ration it. It’s not that the frustration has disappeared—it lingers, an ache beneath the surface—but you’ve stopped letting it boil over. Deep down, you know the real reason you didn’t start a fight tonight. It’s not just that you’re tired of fighting, though you are. It’s that you don’t know how much fight he still has in him. You don’t know if one more argument, one more crack in this fragile thing between you, will be the thing that makes him walk away for good.

And you’re not ready to find out.

So you let it slide. Not because you want to, but because you can. You’ve told yourself you’re strong enough to carry it—to make up the weight of his distance, his exhaustion, his inability to give you what you need. You let him sleep, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, and you tell yourself it’s enough. 

But Spencer shifts again, and this time his eyes flutter open. You freeze, your body tense, as if staying perfectly still might undo his wakefulness. 

“Hey,” he murmurs groggily, his voice thick with sleep. His arm snakes over your waist, pulling you closer. For a brief, fleeting second, you allow yourself to relish the warmth of his touch, the illusion of intimacy.

Then his hand moves. He’s reaching—not for you, but for his watch on the bedside table.

He checks the time, squinting in the dim light filtering through the blinds. And you know. You know what’s coming next. 

“I should go.” he says softly, his arm already retreating from where it had rested over your waist. He pushes himself up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around you, and force a small smile. “Okay” you murmur, the words feeling hollow even as they leave your lips.

Spencer’s already out of bed, reaching for his shirt and bag. The routine feels mechanical, practiced—a series of motions he’s repeated so many times it barely registers as something that could hurt you. He pulls the shirt over his head, adjusts the strap on his bag, and leans down to kiss your forehead. Friends, as if. You think.

It’s a fleeting gesture, a touch that’s supposed to mean something but feels more like a formality now. More perfunctory than tender.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he says as he straightens, glancing at his watch like he’s late for something more important. “You should’ve woken me up.”

You shake your head silently, not trusting that your thoughts won’t betray you. Don’t wake up. Don’t leave me. Don’t go. Instead you settle for, “You were tired. You should get some rest.” The weight in your chest feels unbearable but you press your lips into a tight, strained smile anyways. A silent permission for him to leave.

He doesn’t hesitate.

“Drive safe,” you say quietly as you walk him to the door.

“I’ll text you?” he offers, already halfway out.

“Okay,” you reply, the word barely audible.

And then he’s gone.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoes in the quiet of your apartment, final and unrelenting. You stand there for a moment, staring at the door as if willing it to open again, as if hoping he might turn around and come back. You know he won’t. 

You turn and lean against the wall, the cool surface grounding you, a poor substitute for the warmth that was just beside you. The apartment feels colder, emptier now, the silence deafening. The clock on the wall ticks forward, oblivious to your grief, dragging you further away from the moment he was just here. You feel stuck in place, a reluctant passenger watching the world rush forward while you’re left behind, stranded.

You think back to what Einstein had said and you think he’s got it all wrong. How if one observer moves at the speed of light, time will slow down for them. Because no matter how tightly you try to hold on, the jet doesn’t slow down. It won’t wait for you. The jet will keep moving forward, unrelenting, and him along with it. With or without you.

And as you stand alone in the stillness he’s left behind, you realize it’s always been without you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[totheidiot]

why i would be the avatar of the following entities

post heavily inspired by the wonderful mutual who is @cult-of-the-eye ❤️ i missed the entities who i couldn't figure out what my connection to would be. the list is in alphabetical order for organisation. a few heavy topics ahead? but i try not to get too detailed with it. post is basically my connection to the fear entities and correlating my life experiences with them.

one. the corruption : i kid you not, if i was actually an avatar, this is who i would be. without a single doubt. let's see, not to going to get too in depth, but my best friend died of dengue a while back ya da ya da ya da after she died, i fell in love with her. disease. love. fucked up stuff. you get it.

two. the desolation : there was a fire they would burn outside my old school, to burn garbage and all of that. after a particularly difficult day at school, i would always walk over there and sit myself near the fire, just stare at it. sometimes i would burn little things like paper when i was feeling very angry. that pit of fire was a friend and i had liked to watch it burn. also self-destructive behaviour.

three. the end : refer to the corruption bits. my best friend's fate would tie into the end for me. also, my most major fear, ever since i knew about the concept of having a fear, was the fear of losing loved ones. so.

four. the extinction : okay, so last year, i believe, a thing happened in my city in bangladesh. for a night, the power of the entire city shut down. no electricity in any household, the generator was shut off, not even cellular data was working. so i am talking, no lights, no internet, not even a way to call by phone. load shedding, we had to use candles. it was a weekday night too, streetlights weren't working properly and there was no way for my father to contact us to tell us that he was safe. my mother thought that the prime minister had left the country for us to suffer. pure chaos. basic technology would not work, ovens and refrigerators needed an electrical connection obv and phones were useless. i was talking about this event and the post with my sister the other day and she suggested to add this to the dark, because no light but i feel like it fits the extinction way better for reasons i cannot formulate.

five. the eye : quiet, perceptive friend who just looks odd. you know the type, that was me. i was obsessed with gathering knowledge, i had a random fun fact for every subject. i prided myself with knowing a little about everything. furthermore, i have got this uncanny ability to just Know people's secrets?? okay suppose, my friend has a secret and she's hiding something from everyone. like it's a totally small thing, she likes someone but she doesn't want anyone to know. chances are, i will know. whether it's by observing their body language or thinking it over or just lucky guess, i will know. and the thing is, i will pretend not to know too. girl decided to tell us about that crush i will act shocked like everyone else, for no reason and then i'll go up to them in private and be like, "hey, i knew it. i guessed it last week."

i don't have anything for the meat related fears (fortunately?)

six. the lonely : *puts on a presentation on why i should be a lonely avatar and goes to the first slide* your boy has Social Anxiety. but in all seriousness, isolation, loneliness, it's all second nature to me. i get bothered when people are with me and even then, it feels like they are not? like people will be talking near me and it would feel like i am not even part of their world like. it's like watching a video of people talking like i am not involved in that, even though they are right next to me. they will try to include me in their conversation maybe, but that's not where i am? how can we exist in the same plane?

seven. the spiral : this is a fun one ! most mutuals probably already know this because i talk about it so so darn often but irl, most people actually call me the idiot ! all of my friends from bangladesh, almost every classmate calls me the idiot, to the point where i actually rarely used to hear me real (albeit dead) name spoken out loud. this kind of ties into the "there is no such thing as a real name" thing. also sometimes, late in the night, i will see and remember things and wake up the next day to find that it never happened ever. once, i was talking to my mother and i mentioned her like going to a hostel because she told me stories of how she attended a hostel in eighth grade and she starred at me. she told me that she had never attended a hostel and i was like, yes?? you did?? you always told me about jt?? and she was genuinely scared.

eight. the vast: talked about this once before but once, i was listening to the magnus archives three in the morning, it was one of the space episodes. got scared and suddenly, i had that urge to look out the window and i saw stars. in a light pollution world, where seeing the moon is uncommon, i see five or six stars. still to this day, do not know if i was imagining things.

that is it for all the spooky happenings that are happening.

[parfaitblogs]

north star ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you're up late doing an assignment, and spencer reid has a nightmare. 

pairing: spencer reid x uni student!reader genre: comfort  tags: post prison reid. & his trauma. & his fears. casual nudity (showering together). hurt/angst but its secondhand. which is what we call empathy... yes... reader mentioned being hurt in a nightmare. word count: 2.3k a/n: i got a request recently with a similar sort of premise to this, so while it isn't exact this is indeed for you... north star is one of my all time favourite searows songs. here's to being spencer reid's north star. and also a university student awake at 4am. 

Spencer Reid had not slept in his own bed in three weeks.

The couch in the centre of his apartment had become a constant pile of blankets and pillows, a — probably permanent — indent of his body pressed into the cushions. The coffee table a littering of books he had read through, contact solution, and, when he wasn't reading, his glasses. Always.

You had gotten used to sleeping alone in an apartment somebody else was residing in after the first few days, leaving the bedroom door open so you could hear the sound of pages of a book turning, and faintly see the silhouette of your boyfriend out in the living room. It was comforting enough that it willed you to sleep, though the longing for him to be beside you never dulled.

Tonight was no different. In fact, the only slight change from your usual routine, was the fact that you were the one still awake, and he was fast asleep. Albeit, it was four in the morning, and you most certainly should not be up. 

Your face was illuminated uncomfortably by the blue light of your laptop, a knee beneath your chin as you stared blankly at the half written essay in front of you. You were tired, and all you wanted was to be in bed. Unfortunately, your university had the worst deadlines imaginable, and three o'clock in the afternoon was creeping up on you and this unfinished assignment fast. 

Your head lifted at the sound of blankets rustling, expecting to be met with the sight of a peacefully sleeping Spencer Reid. Instead, he was sat upright, blanket covering his silhouette, though not hiding the heaving of his chest; the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

"Spence?" you called out from his desk that you were currently residing at, still slightly unsure if he was actually awake — he had sleep walked one of the earlier nights. 

He didn't respond. You watched as he hunched over, and you could make out the action of his fingers burying in his hair. 

Assignment be damned, you pushed the wheelie chair back and stood up, hands fidgeting with one another as you headed over to the couch. 

"Spencer?" you said his name again as you hesitantly got closer, not wanting to startle him too much if he was about to start sleep walking. 

His head lifted, and you felt your heart slow in relief when his eyes met yours. Short lived relief, however, for the soft glow of the lamp across the room illuminated him just enough for you to catch the glassiness in his eyes, the sticking of his hair to his forehead from sweat, and the frightened look on his face. 

"Hey," you greeted, quietly, one step after the other carrying you over to him, and you crouched down in front of the couch. 

"Nightmare," he muttered, simply, voice hoarse. 

"Ah," you nodded in recognition, hands flexing by your side with the need to touch him. "You wanna talk about it?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but you didn't press any further for a response as he zoned out on the coffee table behind you for a few moments. When his gaze finally landed back on you, he stared blankly at your face, finding the words inside his brain. 

"They hurt you," he managed to choke out successfully, voice heavy with whatever was lodged in his throat. 

You didn't have to ask who they were, your eyes flickering in acknowledgement of what he was telling you. "They can't," you settled on saying. 

"I know," was his response, eyes dropping to his lap, the blanket falling from his shoulders as his posture hunched over even more. "But they did. And I couldn't do anything about it."

You despised being speechless in front of him. The silence layering over the two of you in a dimly lit room, a heavy blanket translating your lack of words for what he was going through. He always knew what to say to you, and yet, Spencer Reid being traumatised from prison was a concept you could never seem to grasp no matter how hard you tried. Not fully, at least. What on Earth is there to say to somebody who was having nightmares like this? What comfort could you provide?

You hesitated, then reached out, clasping one of his hands within your own, bringing it to your face. Every action was cautious on his end, but you managed to splay his fingers across your cheek, palm resting against the skin. Gently, for despite everything that had changed about Spencer in prison, his gentleness for you had not.

"I'm okay," you whispered to him, and it was then that he registered what you were trying to do. 

He carried more weight in his hand, committing the feeling of your warm, active skin to memory. His fingers stretched and found the pulse of your neck, for no reason other than to feel it beat against the tip of them. It was minutes of sitting in this silence, his eyes firmly shut, while yours studied his face. Every parting of his lips, every irregular breath he took in and exhaled, every slight twitch in his eyebrow. Everything. 

When he finally opened his eyes, breathing a little less erratic and gaze a lot less afraid, you spoke. "Shower?" 

Wordlessly he nodded his head, and allowed you to lift him to his feet, trudging after you with short steps, that you waited for patiently. 

It had taken a week for Spencer to shower again upon coming home. And since then, you had needed to be there for every single one. A stark contrast to the man who isolated himself much more now — needing to be able to see you as he showered. He never explained it, but you sort of knew why.

He stripped of his shirt at the same time as you, his torso no longer the palette of purple and yellow it had been weeks ago. Which should be comforting to you. And yet, as his bruises faded, so did his already dampened spark. The excitement of coming home wearing off, as he was forced to face everything he had endured for a quarter of a year. 

And you tried not to hold it against him, or even be upset about it. It is not his fault existing everyday has become an uphill battle, and it certainly isn't his fault he's horrified of seemingly normal things. But you missed him. It. The light of the man you fell in love with.

The two of you stepped into the shower, in silence, once you had rid yourselves of your clothes, and despite the cold air nipping at your bare skin, you let him stand under the water for as long as he needed to. Visibly watching him sink further into his skeleton, shoulders drooping. He reached for you, hesitantly, and you allowed him to decide where to place his hands. Eventually, one looped around your waist and pressed against the small of your back to step closer to him, the outer water droplets from the showerhead spraying uncomfortably onto your face. Your face scrunched, and your head jerked back, and his lips pulled into a frown. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, stepping back, and your heart sank at the frown on his lips. 

"It's okay," you answered, voice soft. "Can I wash your hair?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a nod, ducking his head down when you reached for shampoo. 

Shaking, your fingers worked lathered shampoo through his hair. Your heart sank at the sight of him, for his shoulders were tensing with every stroke of your fingertips against his scalp. 

"You're stuck in your head," you observed, guiding his head back under the water to rinse the soap out of his locks. 

"Mm," was all he replied with.

"How can I get you out of it?" 

"I can't even get myself out of it," he mumbled.

You don't know what to say. Again. There's only so much you can say to him when he's like this, and even then, most of the time he won't listen. Too overwhelmed with the flashing images of you hurt, usually, the screaming guilt in his brain.

"I'm not hurt, Spence," you decided to tell him instead. 

"I know," he responded, voice pleading, though you knew he wasn't pleading with you. "But I can't get the image of you like that out of my mind."

You fell silent. Again. 

"Sorry," he repeated, his apologising incessant. Though, you knew better than to tell him not to apologise anymore.

Instead, while your fingers worked conditioner through the ends of his hair, you brought up another idea. "How about we go to the roof?"

"It's four in the morning," he murmured. 

"Like that's ever stopped you from doing anything ever," you huffed, and his lips twitched.

"It'll be cold," he argued, watching your shoulders deflate with his second denial of the idea. His own heart dropped. "Yeah, okay. We can go to the roof."

"We don't have to," you said, guiding his head back under the water. "Not if you don't want to."

"I just don't want you to get sick," he replied.

"Don't worry about me."

"I do."

You knew that. It was his constant worry for your wellbeing that led you to these moments.

"Come on."

Stepping out of the shower, you handed him the first towel, wrapping one around yourself afterwards. You picked up both toothbrushes and gave him one of them, leaning against the edge of the sink.

Every movement he now completed was calculated. Hesitant. He was almost completely stationary as he brushed his teeth, if not for the slight shake in his arm with each stroke. But he was staring at you, and it was the kindness in his eyes that kept your heart from falling apart in front of him. 

By the time you had reached the roof, he was a little more conversational, even smiling at your attempt at a joke (though, you were pretty sure that wasn't very genuine).

"Come here," you said, holding your arms out in front of you, walking backwards. He caught up to you, clasping your hands within his own, movement akin to a rag doll as you tugged him closer. 

"No," he protested when you placed his hands on your waist, clocking precisely what you were doing with him within seconds. 

"Yes," you argued, encircling your arms around his neck. "Humour me for a bit."

"I thought we were looking at the stars."

"You thought wrong."

Despite himself and his disdainful grumbling, he let you sway your two bodies, a silent dance amongst the distant, quiet hum of car engines. 

"I don't like dancing," he said, after a few long minutes.

"I know."

"So why did you take me up here to dance?"

The sharp sentences had become a staple in Spencer Reid's speech, though usually unintentional, and usually going unnoticed by him. They still hurt.

"Because," you began, forcing your eyes to fixate on his face, and not the scattering of stars and silhouettes of buildings you could see stretched out behind him. "You're thinking about how much you don't like dancing."

"Yes. I am."

You stilled your bodies and stared at him for a few beats, expectantly, until it rolled over in his brain, and he realised what you were doing. You had, successfully, distracted him from the nightmare. 

He didn't say anything more, but his eyes had softened, and you knew from that he was thankful. Silent communication had become your shared best friend with Spencer.

"I don't know how to stop them," he mumbled, head bowing and unkempt curls covered his face, that you were quick to brush back, hands resting on either side of his jawline. "The nightmares."

"I don't know either," you answered, hating the sound of the words coming out of your mouth. You despised not having all the answers for him, like he probably would for you. "Therapy, I guess."

"I've been doing therapy. Everyday. It isn't helping."

"You've been home less than a month."

"But it isn't getting any better."

Your chest ached, meeting his gaze once again as he snapped his head up on his words. Uncomfortable desperation dressed his face, and it was as though he was crumbling right there in front of you — your hands unable to pick up the shattered pieces quick enough. 

You hadn't dealt with a trauma wound this bad, this fresh, ever. You weren't equipped for that. A university assignment, that sat incomplete in a softly lit apartment, for a degree you were yet to claim, proved that. Spencer knew that. He knew you wouldn't have the answers he needed; they were answers even he didn't have. 

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "This isn't fair on you."

No, it wasn't. And you don't want to imagine how you would be in his position instead, but you were pretty sure you'd be just as bad, if not worse. 

"Please don't apologise for feeling things," you decided to say instead. "You're allowed to feel things."

"I've been horrible."

"You've been human."

He fell silent at that, and when you were sure he didn't have any other incessant apologies or heartbreaking discoveries to drop on you at — what was now probably — five o'clock in the morning, you offered him your arms. Arms he took, and arms he allowed to wrap him up in an embrace you wanted to die with. 

Silence communicated words you couldn't say to one another. Echoing I love you's ricocheted around in your brain, and you hoped they did in his too. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ohmyitsfaith]

Little survivors

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Eight years later, you are visited by a very strange and violent lady, who makes a deal with Five to get you out of the post-apocalyptic world. With this comes the bonus of a comfortable life and a few calm years.

Warnings: The Handler. Think I said enough. Domestic life, but starts off with the Handler threatening people. Quite physically. Also in the middle it gets a bit steamy. Talks of pregnancy and birth.

Word count: 10.6k (shit this is long)

A/n: This was also a requested fic, as a part two to Little survivor. I tried to twist the storyline a little bit, hopefully you guys will like it. I like the idea that the Commission is a part of a society where everything is disturbingly perfect. Maybe I overthought this whole thing, but honestly, it birthed a kind of great story, so... Also, I was debating splitting this into two, but then the title wouldn't have made sense. Anyway, enjoy!

As the days passed, life became harder and harder. But that didn’t stop you from enjoying time with your husband and son. Max was the cutest little kid and you really lucked out with his temperament being so good. He was the calmest little toddler, who then grew up to be a quite docile child. Sure there were a few tantrums, but in the end, he was a kind and calm little kid.

“Max!” you yelled for him as he played in front of the camp in the sand. He was now 10 years old and smarter than you thought was possible in the post-apocalyptic world. All thanks to Five, who provided the teaching material needed for him. With him working on the equations almost non-stop, it was up to you to try to get the best out of the material Five gave you.

You suddenly became aware of the deafening silence outside.

“Max?” you dropped the stick that you were using to light the fire for dinner and hurried out with your heart beating heavily in your chest.

As you rounded the corner, you saw a well-dressed woman, holding your son by his waist.

“What are you doing?!” you yelled at her, and, ready to save your son, you advanced toward her.

“Ah-ah-ah!” she held up her free hand toward you. “I wouldn’t come closer if you want this sweet little boy to live.”

“Mommy” Max whimpered in the woman’s hold.

You eyed him with worry in your eyes, then looked up, glaring at the woman.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Just an answer,” she started, “where is Number Five?”

Your heart beat even more anxiously at that question. Five went out to gather more resources for the week and he was supposed to arrive by dinnertime. You were only expecting him around the time when the sun lowered beneath the horizon and that wasn’t til later.

“I don’t- I-” you stuttered.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you know where he went” the lady said calmly and you watched in horror as a small pistol was raised toward Max. “Now, where is Number Five?”

“Please don’t! I’m begging you, I don’t know where he is!” you pleaded, now on your knees. “Don’t hurt him, he’s just an innocent boy! Please.”

In that moment, the man in question turned up. When he saw the scene in front of him, a wild fire lit inside his heart. Not only was he scared, but angry as well. Who dares to threaten his whole world?! He dropped his gatherings and grabbing his gun, he ran up behind the unfamiliar woman.

“Let. My son. Go!” he gritted his teeth, holding the gun up toward the woman’s head.

“Ah, Number Five!” the woman turned around, smiling widely. “Just the man I wanted to see!” she thankfully put the pistol away.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, still not putting his gun down, focusing fully on the woman, on every little move just in case she would hurt Max.

“Daddy” Max whimpered this time and Five’s eyes flickered over to him for just a fraction of a second.

“I’m here to help” the woman answered, still holding Max tightly.

“By holding my son hostage?” he asked, angrier than ever. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet right between your eyes!” he gritted.

“‘Cause…” the woman started, walking forward. Through your tears you could see Max struggling in her arms, trying to twist out of her hold. “If you did that, you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to give you” she said simply. “Which would be rather tragic, given your…” she looked back at you, “current circumstances.”

“What do you want? And be careful with what you say! My hands are quicker than you would expect” Five warned, his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot at any given moment. He just had to wait for when Max was safe out of her hands so he could shoot the woman dead.

“I work for an organization called the Commission” she started her explanation. “We are tasked with the preservation of the time-continuum through manipulation and removals.”

“I don’t understand…” Five’s eyebrows pulled together.

“Sometimes people make choices that… alter time” she shrugged. “Free will. Don’t get me started on that… When that happens, we dispatch one of our agents to… “she searched for the right words, “eliminate the threat.”

This caused Five to harden his shoulders, keeping the gun pointed at the woman, ready to shoot.

“No, no, no” she put her free hand up, chuckling. “You misunderstand me. You are not a target.”

“Then why don’t you let the boy go?” he hissed.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. I need your answer to my proposal” she smiled. “I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five” she said. “We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time. And we think you have potential!”

“What the hell are you on about?” he asked.

“Your survival skills made you quite a celebrity in the Headquarters” she explained. “The way you strive hard to protect what little you have and provide for them” she glanced back at you and then down at the boy in her hands. She reached out and caressed his head, which in turn made Five suck in a sharp breath. “That, and your ability to jump through time.”

“Don’t touch him” he hissed. “Tell me what’s in it for me? Why would I go with you?”

“You could get out of this place for one” the woman sighed. “And also go back to your family if you complete five years with us.”

“You… you’re saying we could be free?” he asked, glancing behind the woman, right at your still sobbing form.

“Once you served five years, your contract will be done, giving you a chance to retire to the time and place of your choosing” she smiled tightly.

Five thought hard about all that this woman was talking about. This could be his chance to save you, to finally give you and your family the life you deserved. He could live comfortably with you, have the domestic life you wished for and grow old.

“What about my wife and son?” he asked, which seemed to annoy the woman.

“You can bring them with you” she said and he could hear the distaste in her tone. “So, do we have an agreement?” she offered her free hand.

Five looked at you, lowering his gun slightly. You looked so scared, for him and for your son. He never wanted to see you like that. He didn’t want you to suffer. He wanted to give the both of you a chance at a normal life.

He looked at his son, who was sniffling in the woman’s arm, clearly scared out of his mind. The poor boy didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be so traumatized by this post-apocalyptic world, by this woman, who threatened his life. He should be better off, in school, with food to fill his belly, clothes that fit him well and a roof over his head.

He will do this. For you. For Max. For his family.

“Fine” he put the gun down and approached the woman to shake her hand. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” the woman lightened up, letting Max out of her hold and shaking Five’s hand.

The moment your son was out of the woman’s hold, he collapsed, his legs giving out underneath him. But in the next moment, Five reached out for him, pulling him up and lifting him into his arms.

“We shall leave momentarily. We have a lot to do” the woman turned away and walked into the little camp to sit down.

The second she was out of sight, you rushed to Five and Max and collapsed with the two of them on the floor.

“Five” you sobbed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Max, oh my poor boy.”

“Mommy, daddy” he cried, grabbing onto both of you.

“You’re safe now, you’re safe” Five tried to calm the young boy, who didn’t deserve all this. He pulled you in, close, so he could take in your features, making sure you were still there. “You’re both safe.”

The first day at the Commission consisted of Five being dragged away for orientation and basic training while you and Max were herded to a room to wait for someone who would show you to your new house. 

You didn’t have to wait long: a woman with black hair and wearing a skirt suit opened the door. She had a kind smile on her face, and though she looked different and kinder than the other woman was, you still grabbed onto Max tightly.

“Oh, don’t be afraid!” she said quickly, her voice light and sweet. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Dot, I work a desk job here. And I got the honor to show you to your new home!”

Still weary, but slightly comforted, you loosen your hold on your son, who looks at Dot in curiosity.

“I’m Y/n” you decide to introduce yourself. “And this is my son, Max.”

“Oh, what a cutie. How old is he?” her smile widens, a soft glow flashing in her eyes.

“He’s ten” you look down at him, still clutching your arm tightly.

“Aw, he looks a lot like Five. And his eyes! They look just like yours” she gushes.

“Thank you” you let yourself smile a little bit.

“Now, I’m sure you’re tired and in need of a good shower. Let us get going then.”

You nod, taking Max’s hand in yours and follow Dot out the door.

“We’re actually not far from the housing, you guys got a pretty adorable family home” she looked back at you as you walked through the entrance hall and then the doors.

It was a sunny day, colder than it was in the apocalypse, but the air was much fresher here. You didn’t know what year you were in or where you were for a fact. But you were just happy to be away from that hellhole.

“Do you know if…” you started and Dot looked back at you, curiously. “If that woman… will she bother us?”

“The Handler?” she asked and you shrugged. If that was her name… “Oh I don’t think she will. She only cares about agents, so you and Max should be fine.”

“And… and Five?” your heart raced. Was he in danger?

“That, I don’t know. I would assume no. She is a big fan of his, so if anything, she’ll make sure he’s fine” Dot hummed.

“Alright” you sigh.

Dot lead you through a small garden that was the Commission’s and you found yourself in view of a village-like assortment of houses. There were some smaller family homes and then there were a couple of huge buildings, which consisted of apartments.

“Do other agents have families?” you asked as you neared the main street.

“Field agents? No, most of them are either alone or only have a partner, no kids. But many of our people in filing or some of our security actually have families. Some smaller, some bigger” she explained.

You hummed and looked down at Max. Maybe he could make friends with other children. He wouldn’t have to be alone. And you could also meet some other moms…

You rounded a corner and found yourselves in a long street, filled with family homes and a playground.

“This is the street you will be living on” Dot smiled. “If you go down the road where we came, we actually have a clothing store and grocery store, so you can buy your own stuff. A bit further from the housing area, you can find an elementary school and a high school as well. Max will be enrolled by the end of the week. You’ll receive a mail from one of our staff.”

“He can go to school?” you asked, your heart picking up pace.

“Of course!” she smiled. “Only the best teachers there.”

“Oh” you nodded.

“Well, we arrived” she stopped in front of a beautiful blue house with white picket fence and a small garden. “Hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. Five will be here any time he is free or has his day off. But don’t worry, Mary, the woman who lives in the house beside yours, and her daughters Betty and Lily are excited to get to know you guys.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. It was great to meet you” she stepped back and waved.

“You too” you smiled and waited for Dot to disappear down the street before squatting down in front of Max. “Are you okay?”

“Yes Mama” he nodded and though you could see a little bit of worry in his gaze, he seemed to say the truth.

“Alright darling. Shall we see what’s inside?” you caressed his cheek and he nodded, gripping onto your hand.

You stepped up the few stairs to the front door. There was a key in the door, presumably the one you were meant to use later on. You took the keys out and opened the door.

It really was a small and cute home. Everything aesthetically arranged, the walls and floors in beautiful contrast. It was a wild change from the apocalypse, where everything was very yellow most days.

Across from the front door was a kitchen and dining room with a door to the family bathroom. On your right was the master bedroom, which was painted in a similar light blue as the outside was. To the left, there were two rooms, one the living room and the other a smaller bedroom.

“Look, I think that will be your bedroom” you pointed to the open door. “Do you want to see it?”

“My… my room?” Max looked up at you, confused. “I will sleep alone?”

“Yeah” you nodded.

“But… I don’t want to” the boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh darling” you pulled him in your arms. “You won’t be alone. We’ll be right across from your room. We won’t be far.”

“But at night…” he sniffled. “The monsters will come.”

“Your dad will keep you safe from them” you tried to calm him. “We’ll never let them hurt you.”

But Max was crying, inconsolably. You tried to think about what you could do. How could you help him? His sobs were twisting your heart and you felt as helpless as when the Handler arrived in the afternoon. Where you were unable to move, unable to help your little boy, who didn’t deserve all that. You could only imagine what was going through his head in that moment and now, hours after it.

“Tell you what. You can sleep with us for the first few weeks, okay?” you pulled away a little, looking into his eyes. “You can get used to your room during the day. Would that be alright, darling?”

“Y-yeah” he sniffled.

“Alright, now let’s get you cleaned up and some food in your tummy, okay?”

Max nodded, still rubbing at his eyes. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked into the dining room, where the door to the bathroom could be found. There was a shower and bath combination in the opposite corner, with some soap and shampoo. It was all neatly arranged and you once again felt that jarring feeling of everything being just… off. But you just took a breath and looked at Max.

“Do you need help or can you wash your body and hair alone?” you asked gently.

“I can do it” Max squared his shoulders, trying to appear strong and you smiled. “But…” he looked up at you. “Can you stay with me?”

“Yeah, of course. How about you take your clothes off and pee while mama goes and sees if there are some clothes in your room?” you suggested.

Max’s hold on your hand tightened for a second and you could see the conflict on his little face. But then he slowly nodded and let you go.

“Alright, I’ll be right back, okay? If you’re done, then stand in the shower.”

Max nodded, looking toward the bathtub. You quickly walked to the smaller room, leaving both doors open, so you could hear your son if he needed help. In the room there was a dresser and a single bed. It was clearly meant to be a kid’s bedroom, what with the wallpaper having dinosaurs and birds on it.

You looked in the dresser to see different sized clothes, both for boys and girls. You sighed in relief and grabbed two different sizes from underwear, pants and a t-shirt, not knowing which one will be good for Max. It’s been a long while since you saw new clothes and not to mention that you never had the luxury for Max to wear the right sized clothing.

“You’re in luck” you stepped back into the bathroom. “We got some clothes here. I brought you two sizes, we’ll see which one will be good” you smiled and watched as Max nodded, stepping into the shower. “I’ll help you adjust the water” you put the clothes down on the sink and reached out to the taps. “See, this has a red dot. It means it’ll give you hot water. And on the other side is a blue dot. It means cold water” you explained to him. “Hold your hand out, underneath the tap” you instruct him, kneeling next to the tub. “I’ll start the water, okay?”

Max nodded and squatted down, holding his hand under the water.

“Tell me if it’s too warm or too cold, okay? We’ll adjust it.”

With your help, Max got the right temperature and he - albeit a bit clumsily - washed as much of the dirt away as he could. You helped with his hair a bit, but otherwise just kneeled next to the tub, so he could do most of it himself.

“Alright. That feel okay?” you asked as you helped him out of the tub and gave him a towel.

“Weird” he said simply.

“I know darling. But now you’ll get used to it. It’s going to be all okay” you promised, drying his hair. “Should we see which clothes will fit you?”

Max nodded and so you picked up the smaller underwear first. To your surprise it slid on easily, even loose around his waist a bit. You knew that Max was a smaller kid then others his age might have been and that’s all thanks to the apocalypse. But you didn’t think he was this small.

“Should I see a smaller size still?” you asked him. “Or is that comfortable.”

“It’s okay mama” he shrugged.

“As you wish,” you sigh. “Are you feeling hungry?” you helped him into his pants and shirt as well.

“A bit” he nodded.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do” you smiled at him. “Why don’t you grab a book that looks interesting to you and we’ll practice your reading while I cook?”

Max nodded and walked toward the smaller bedroom, looking back at you, to make sure you were still there. When he was reassured, he quickly went in and took a book from the bookshelf. In an instant, he was back in the corridor and taking your hand.

“Well, come on, then” you smiled gently and went up to the counter.

Max sat down at the small circular table, opening the book he grabbed. You watched him flip to the first page and looked at the words. He knew how to read, you and Five taught him. But it took him a little time.

“The story of… Doctor… Do- Dolittle?” he pronounced it slowly, then looked up for confirmation. You smiled at him encouragingly. “The first… chapter. Pudd-puddle-puddleby. O-once upon a time, many… years ago…” Max started reading slowly.

As he read, you started to look through the pantry to see what could be used to make a meal. You didn’t really know how to cook, but thankfully there were some cookbooks that you could use.

You always wanted to get out of the apocalypse, but never imagined what you’d do once you’re out. You never wondered about some of the simple facts of a normal life. Like how to cook. But you were ready to learn. Anything really.

You and Max spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen. He read slowly, page after page and you trying to put a meal together for your little family.

“Y/n, Max?” you heard the door opening and Five calling out to you.

“In the kitchen!” you called back just as Max sprang from his seat, running toward Five, yelling: “Daddy!”

You smiled as you walked toward them, seeing Five embrace the boy.

“Hey, little crumb. How was your afternoon?” he asked. “What did you do? Oh and what is that smell? Is that your hair?”

“Yeah! We showered! And daddy, you know, the soap smells so good!” Max rushed out.

“Does it now?” he smiled. “Well, I’ll have to see it for myself.”

“And I read a book about a magic doctor! He can talk to animals!”

“He can?” he laughed gently. “You’ll have to read it for me too, son.”

“C’mon!” Max stood up and pulled him toward the kitchen.

“Hey” Five smiled as he reached you.

“Hi, how was the orientation and training?” you asked, reaching out to him.

“Boring” he sighed and leaned over to peck your lips. “But I got my first assignment. I’ll be going there tomorrow.”

“For how long?” you asked, worried.

“Shouldn’t be long. It’s supposed to be part of the training, with a more experienced agent by my side, so maybe that day? Or two?” he guessed.

“Alright” you sighed.

“You’ll be alright?” he asked gently.

“I will” you nodded. “Just be careful.”

“I will” he promised.

You sighed and pulled away, turning to the stove, where the food was finishing cooking. As you prepared the plates, Max explained the plot of Dolittle to Five, excited about the story.

“Alright boys, it’s time to eat” you put their plates in front of them, full of warm food. “I hope it’s good.”

“I’m sure it is” Five smiled at you.

Truly, it was not so bad. It was definitely better than what you ate in the apocalypse, which was a relief. And even though you cooked the normal amount, there was so much left after you finished eating, you felt worried. You knew it would take time to get used to eating like normal humans, but you couldn’t help but worry about your son.

After dinner, you heard the clock chime loudly from the living room.

“What was that?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh, they didn’t explain it to you?” Five looked at you. “In the evening and morning the clocks chime to signal the end and the beginning of the day. We’re supposed to go to bed.”

“Oh” you frowned. “Okay.”

“We’ll get used to it” he comforted and turned to Max. “Well, little crumb, could you show me which soap was so good smelling?”

“Yes!” he perked up and jumped off his chair. “Come on daddy!”

You smiled at the two of them before picking up the plates and washing them. You once again marveled about the way water felt on your skin. You couldn’t wrap your head around the day you had. It was so far-fetched and such an outlandish idea, that your brain couldn’t accept it.

“Mama, could you read a bed-time story for me?” Max came to the kitchen, forcing you out of your thoughts.

“Sure thing, baby. Would you like me to read Dr. Dolittle?” you smiled gently.

“No” he shook his head. “I want to read it myself. Could you read something else?”

“Of course” you smiled. “Let’s go to the room and see what we have.”

You soon found a book called “The Wheel on the School”, which Max liked the sound of, so you gave it to him and turned around to look for some pajamas for him.

“What are you looking for, mama?” he asked curiously.

“Some pajamas” you looked back at him. “You know, when you go to sleep, you are supposed to wear some clean, comfortable clothes to bed” you explained to him.

“Oh.”

“Here you go, son” you gave him the pair you found.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Will you wear pajamas?” he asked as you went to the master bedroom.

“Yes, but first I need to shower as well.”

“Okay…” Max nodded. “Will daddy stay with me until then?”

“Of course” you nodded. “Now get into bed, I’ll read to you, until daddy finishes showering.

Max climbed on top of the king-sized bed and lay down beneath the sheets, in the middle.

“Comfortable?” you asked and Max nodded. So you started reading to him.

When Five came out of the bathroom, he found the beautiful scene in front of him. Max, in the bed, lying sleepily beneath the sheets, fighting to keep his eyes open, and you, sitting in the armchair close to the bed, reading to him in a soft voice. Five’s heart jumped, filled with warmth and love. His little family, who survived so much and who deserved the world. The reason he was doing all of this.

You finished reading and put the book down, looking at your fast-asleep son. You smiled gently and walked over to him, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. Then you looked up at the door, where Five was standing. He was clean and shaven. You smiled at him and walked up to him.

“You look good” you said to him sincerely.

“Thank you” he smiled and put his hand on your waist, pulling you in. “I didn’t dare to shave it clean, so I left a little stubble.”

“It looks good” you leaned into him, putting your hand on his jaw. “It feels good.”

Five let out an airy laugh and hugged you properly. The day was crazy and he couldn’t be more thankful for your strong presence.

“I love you so much” he murmured.

“I love you more” you teased, pulling a bit away, so you could put your hand on his cheek again.

“Not possible” he smiled.

“Everything’s possible” you countered and then leaned in to kiss him.

He held you close, gripping your waist tightly. In the unfamiliar setting, he finally found something familiar: you. The way you taste was still the same, your lips reacting to his. He was glad to be kissing you once again.

“I wish…” you sigh against his lips.

“You wish?” he murmurs, not wanting to let you go.

“I wish we were alone now. If just for a moment” you finish your sentence, kissing him again. “But I need to shower and our son is lying in our bed.”

“Hm, maybe later then” he surmised.

“In a few weeks. He will get used to his own bedroom and then…” you smirked at him cheekily.

“Can’t wait” he smiled, warmth and passion glinting in his eyes.

A month later, Five finally got his first paycheck in his hands. And he couldn’t believe his eyes. When they said that the payout for a good performance was great, he thought that they would pay him good. But not this good! For weeks now he thought about what he could buy from the first paycheck. He could get more groceries, he could buy his son some clothes that would fit him and also could be his own choosing, he could buy you a beautiful dress, like the ones you fantasized about in the apocalypse and… Well… the most pressing one in his mind was a ring. So that you could wear the sign of your love.

And so, without much thinking, as his hours were done, he immediately blinked to the street of stores in the city. He found the jewelers and went in.

“Hi! I’m looking for wedding rings?” he smiled lightly.

⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎‣•‣⁎

You were in the kitchen, making a fruit salad when the door slammed.

“Max, I told you, be careful of the door!” you yelled out.

“Sorry mama,” he rushed in.

“How was school, dear?”

“Good! Bennet played with me in recess!” he beamed.

“Oh really? And what did you play?” you smiled and Max took a deep breath before he started gushing about his day in school.

True to Dot’s words, at the end of your first week in Temps, a letter arrived in your mailbox. In it, they stated that Max would join class 4/B, which is right in his age-group and well within his skillset. They also sent over some paperwork, essential for securing his identity as a citizen.

The first week in school was… trying to say the least. But thanks to Max’s good temperament, it became easier and easier each day.

Now, in the third week of school, Max was starting to make friends. The left side neighbor’s twin daughters Betty and Lily were also in Max’s class, so them, and now apparently Bennet as well, became fast friends.

It turned out that Betty and Lily’s mother, Mary, was working in a café on the street where the school was located, so after a couple hang-outs with the three of them: a deal was made. She would take the kids to school on most days, and when she wasn’t working, you would walk them.

Mary was also very helpful with understanding the town’s rules. The chimes from the clock in the morning and evening were only the beginning. There were also some other things like: lunch was strictly at 12pm, at 3pm you had to have a coffee break (or tea break for the kids) and chat with either your neighbors or your co-workers and also, there was a curfew of 8pm being the latest you could leave the house. You also couldn’t work into the night (the only exception being the night guards at the Commission building) and couldn’t leave your house before 7am. There were some others as well, but they were not essential to your days.

Now, after a month, you were finally starting to get used to Temps’ weird rules and even weirder people. Still, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief whenever 8pm rolled around and you could be alone in the privacy of your home with your husband and son.

“…And can you imagine? Bennet said it was such a cool game!” Max was still gushing about recess and you couldn’t help but smile.

Since he started eating more and healthier, he started growing. Not much in a month, but his clothes now fit perfectly on him and you didn’t have to fold the bottom of his pants up anymore. There was also a healthy glow to him, his hair becoming fuller and shining brighter. You were so glad to see the change.

“Honey, I’m home!” you heard Five call out to you and you smiled as Max’s rambling stopped and his eyes lit up.

“Daddy!” he ran to Five as he reached the kitchen door.

“Hi little crumb” Five smiled and squatted down to embrace him. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, the best!” Max beamed. “Bennet played with me in recess!”

“Oh really? Wow!” Five laughed, happy for his son. “That’s amazing, baby!”

“It was! And he invited me over for a sleepover!” he mentioned, which caused you to stop smiling and looked at Five, who also looked at you.

“Really? You haven’t said that yet” you put the spoon down into the bowl and walked to your boys. “Did he ask his mom?”

“He said he would once he got home” Max looked at you. “Mama, can I go?”

“I don’t know son, we haven’t talked to Bennet’s mom yet. We don’t know if she agreed to host the sleepover” you sighed and you could see Max’s face fall.

“Tell you what. If they show up, we’ll talk about it” Five tried to reassure the boy, but it didn't help much. He pulled away from both of you and turned to walk down the hall and into his bedroom.

You sighed again, sad to see your son so sad. Five stood up and you could see that he shared that compliment. But there truly was nothing you could do.

So you went back to mixing the fruit bowl together and Five went back to the door so he could take his shoes off before joining you in the kitchen.

“So, how was work today?” you asked.

“It was… fine” he shrugged. “I got my first pay-check.”

“Oh, yeah?” you looked up at him.

“Yeah and, I was surprised to say the least” Five sighed and got the paper out of his suit pocket. “Look at this” he walked up to you and showed you the paper. You almost dropped the bowl from your hands.

“What?!” you asked. “Is that real?”

“Apparently so” he nodded.

“Oh my God…” you blinked, looking up at him. “What do we even do with all that…”

“I don’t know” he sighed. “Well… this months’ I know, because I-”

But at that moment there was a knock from the door. You and Five looked at each other before walking up to the door. Through the glass, you could see a woman standing there. You looked at Five again before opening the door.

“Good afternoon” she greeted.

“Good afternoon” you greeted back with Five. “What can we help you with?”

“Oh my son, Bennet came home from school saying he wanted to invite Max around for a sleepover” she smiled.

“Oh, you must be Sharon!” you smiled at her. “I’m Y/n, and this is Five, my husband.”

Bennet peeked out from behind her and looked up at you.

“Good afternoon” he said shyly.

“Hi, Bennet” you smiled at him as well, then looked up at Sharon. “Would you like some fruit salad? I just finished making it.”

“Thank you so much” she nodded and followed you inside.

“Five, would you be so kind and tell Max that his friend is here?” you looked at him and he nodded. You reached up to take five small bowls out and turned back to Bennet and Sharon. “Bennet, a fruit salad?”

“Yes, thank you” he said just in time when Max came bounding out of the room.

“Bennet!” he shouted happily. “Good afternoon Mrs Meyer.”

“Hi Max” she smiled and let the boys sit together.

“Sharon, a fruit salad?” you looked at her.

“Thank you, I’ll take one” she agreed and you put some of the fruit salad in her bowl as well before placing it in front of the two guests.

“Max, Five?” you asked.

“Yes, thank you mama!” Max agreed loudly, while Five just nodded.

“Here you go, boys” you gave one to each of them. “So, Sharon. You were saying?”

“Bennet wanted Max over for a sleepover” she started. “I have no objections to Max spending the night if you are okay with it as well.”

“Yes, we…” Five started before rethinking his choice of words. “What I mean is, as you know Max had a difficult time adjusting to being away from us at night. We don’t wish to give you any trouble, should he get scared and decide that being houses away from us is too much.”

“I promise daddy, I won’t!” Max immediately said. “I’ll be good!”

“I have no doubt about that, sweetheart. We just don’t want you to feel scared.”

“But mama…” he looked at you sadly.

“How about we put down some ground rules?” Sharon suggested.

“What do you suggest?” Five asked.

So in over an hour, you talked it all out. You agreed that she could take the boys and there wouldn’t be a word about disobeying the Meyer parents’ words. If that would happen, they couldn’t go over to the other’s house for a week. The boys thought that over and then agreed.

“Max, come with me, we’ll put your clothes together” you told your son.

He eagerly followed you to his room, jumping around as he watched you grab a bag from the top of the dresser. You told him what to grab and he rushed to find it and give it to you. You neatly folded them into his overnight bag and once everything was in, you zipped it in and grabbed his hands.

“Listen son, this is the first time you’ll be away from us at night” you started. “But I want you to enjoy this. If you find yourself afraid, remember: mommy and daddy will always protect you. There’s nothing that can harm you” you told him and he nodded slowly. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, mama” he smiled and let you pull him in for a hug. You pressed a kiss to his head and smiled at him.

“Alright,” you stood up and walked out with him to the kitchen. “We’re ready.”

“Well, thank you so much for the fruit salad, it was really good” Sharon stood up, Bennet coming up beside her.

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Hargreeves!” he beamed.

“You’re very welcome. And Sharon, thank you so much for letting the boys have this sleepover. If this goes well, the next one is on us.”

Sharon nodded and herded the boys outside. You stopped in the doorway and Five came up to hug you from behind. You watched as Bennet and Max excitedly chattered, happy to spend time together. Five pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder as you sighed, filled with worry.

Though Max looked engrossed in his conversation with Bennet, he thankfully looked back at you two and waved goodbye. You forced a smile and waved back. You stayed out until the Meyers’ car disappeared from view and then Five gently led you back inside.

“It’s going to be okay, my love” he said gently, hand around your waist and his other hand leading you. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know” you sighed, sitting on the couch with him. “I’m just worried.”

“I know, darling” he pulled you in his arms, holding you close. “But look at the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“He felt up to going. Remember the first week? He couldn’t even let you go to the bathroom alone. Now he’s finally healing” he explained.

“You’re right” you nodded. “Still, it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

“And it doesn’t have to. You’re his mom, of course you worry about him” he reassured you. “How about I take your mind off of it?”

“What do you have in mind?” you looked at him.

“Remember our wedding?” he pulled a bit away from you and turned you to face him.

“How could I forget?” you smiled.

“Well, we’ve been married for… about fifteen years.”

“Yeah?” you blinked. “It’s been that long?”

“Yeah” he chuckled. “And I finally bought the one missing thing from that day.”

“You did?” your heart picked up speed.

“I did” he pulled the box out of his pocket. “It’s not exactly what I imagined… and I wish we could’ve chosen it together, but… I just wanted to surprise you” he opened the box and the sight of the two golden rings in it made tears spring in your eyes.

“Oh Five” you sobbed, reaching a shaky hand out to cover his own.

“Do you like it?” he asked, slight worry in his eyes.

“They’re perfect” you sniffled, smiling through your tears. “God, they’re so perfect.

“I’m glad you think so” he smiled sweetly and reached into the box, picking up the smaller ring. “May I?” he asked, holding his free hand out.

You nodded and offered him your right hand. He pulled it on your finger, then raised it up to kiss it. You sniffled as he reached his hands out to wipe your fingers.

“My beautiful bride, the gorgeous mother of my child” he murmured. “Thank you so much for staying with me.”

You sniffled, trying to keep your sobs and tears in. You reached shakily for the other ring and took Five’s right hand in yours.

“You’re the love of my life” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “I love you so much” you pushed the ring up on his ring finger gently, putting your own right hand next to it. “I can’t believe we finally have these…”

“I couldn’t be happier” Five turned his right hand and took your hand, caressing your knuckles.

“I’m so happy” you agreed, wiping your tears and looking up at him. “Thank you. For everything you do for us.”

“I love you” he replied.

“I love you too��� and finally Five leaned in and kissed you.

It was so soft, so full of love, you couldn’t comprehend how there could be so much love. But you just pulled him closer, your hand going up to his soft hair, grabbing a fistful of it. His hands went to your waist and pulled you in his lap oh so gently.

“Five…” you breathed into his mouth, trying to convey the message you couldn’t form with words.

“Y/n…” he sighed, pulling your lips back on his, while guiding his hand holding your waist down to your ass, so in the next moment he could stand up with you in his arms.

You yelped, but then you were back to kissing him, letting his tongue in your mouth as he walked with you toward your bedroom. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing your bodies together. You were in the bedroom quicker than you could’ve imagined, the door slamming shut behind you.

The sixth month of your stay at Temps became a huge deal. Not only was it a really long time that you could stay in one place and be perfectly comfortable, but also it became a big milestone in your lives.

Around the fourth month of staying in Temps, you found out something really big. Like huge. It wasn’t something you were expecting or hoping for, but you were still really happy. You still remember talking about this with Five.

“So… uh, Five?” you started the conversation one night after you put Max down to sleep.

“Yeah?” he looked at you, climbing into bed and pulling you in close.

“You know when we were talking about Max, way back when…” you tried to find the right words.

“Back when…” he tried to urge you on with your explanation. “In the apocalypse?”

“Yeah…” you nodded into his shoulder, trying to contain your anxiety mixed with excitement. “Specifically when he was just a little toddler.”

“Hm, still not sure which conversation you refer to” he hummed.

“Well it wasn’t just that one time we talked about this. But that was the first time. Actually we talked a lot about this, all things considered” you explained vaguely.

“Is it about his normal life?” he asked.

“No- well partly” you agreed.

“So… what is it, Y/n?” he caressed your shoulder.

“Okay, okay” you got up suddenly, kneeling beside him. “So… things have been going better for us, right?”

“Yeah” he nodded, turning to his side to look at you properly.

“And we’re no longer in the apocalypse…”

“Thankfully.”

“And, well… I know it’s a bit late and Max is so old now, but…” you stopped for a second, not sure if Five will be happy.

“But…?” he was holding his breath now, you could tell.

“I’m- I’m pregnant” you finally blurted it out.

For a moment there was silence. You could see the wheels turning in Five’s head. Then he was up on his knees as well.

“Are you serious?” he asked, shocked.

“Y-yeah” you nodded, afraid of his reaction.

“You’re really, really serious?” he grabbed onto your hands.

“Yes. Are you-” but you couldn’t even finish your question because Five grabbed you by your sides, pulling you close and squeezing you.

“You’re really pregnant” he whispered, though you couldn’t decide whether it was a question or a statement.

“Yeah” you whispered back, still a little confused about his reaction being happy or not so much.

“Oh my God…” he breathed out and that’s when you became aware of his shaking body and the sudden wetness at your neck, where Five buried his head.

You finally smiled and let yourself get lost in Five’s warm embrace and pure love.

And since then you tried to figure out Max’s stance on siblings. You haven’t popped yet, so you could hide it from him, even if that made you feel bad. You never really had secrets in front of Max, especially not big ones that concerned his future as well.

But you heard enough horror stories about kids reacting badly about a new addition to the family before, so you wanted to be prepared. You didn’t want Max to feel like he’s loved less just because there will be a baby in the house. And though you didn’t ask him right out about siblings, there were a number of ways you deduced whether or not Max was ready for a baby sibling.

Today, you noticed in the morning, while you were getting dressed, that your stomach seemed a lot… bigger. It took only a second to realize what happened: you popped. So it was time.

By some twist of fate, it was Five’s day off. And so, immediately as you noticed, you stalked out into the kitchen, where he prepared morning coffee and breakfast.

“Five” you whispered. It was still early in the morning and you didn’t want to wake Max up.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, looking up from his book.

“I popped!” you smile at him, turning to the side, so he could see the big change in your figure.

“Oh my God!” he put his book down, eyes filled with wonder. “You really did!”

He stood up from his seat and walked to you, so he could caress over the bulge of your stomach. You were looking up at his face, seeing him so focused on your belly, eyes full of wonder and love.

“You’re so amazing” he whispered, his free hand going around your waist and pulling you close.

“No, you are” you smiled, lifting his chin with a hand. “Without your hard work, we wouldn’t be here, safe. But thanks to you, Max could heal, we could build a life and also,” you put your hand on his, that was still caressing your baby bump, “expand our little family.”

Five smiled at you gratefully, then leaned in to kiss your lips sweetly. He pulled your robes in again, when he suddenly heard shifting from Max’s room and smiled at you encouragingly.

“Today’s the day.”

“Yeah” you sighed and sat down at the table, grabbing one toast from the pile.

The next moment, Max’s door opened and your son stumbled out, completely out of it from sleep. You smiled at his sleepy face and the way he sluggishly walked toward you and Five.

“Hey there, little crumb” Five smiled, embracing his son when he reached him. “How did you sleep?”

The only answer was a little grunt, which made both Five and you giggle lightly. Contrary to you and Five, Max was not a morning bird. While both you and Five got out of bed easily in the mornings, on most days you had to practically drag your son out.

“Darling, come, there is breakfast here for you” you said gently and pulled a chair out for your son to sit down on. “How about some milk, would you like some?”

Max nodded slowly and sat down next to you. You got up to grab the milk, pouring some for the young boy.

“Here you go” you smiled at him.

Breakfast went by in silence, Max waking up more and more as he ate. Soon, he was starting to chit-chat about the weekend and how you could go to the playground.

“We can, right?” he looked at the two of you and you shared a look with your husband.

“Not right now, son” Five put a hand on his smaller one. “Actually, mama and I want to talk to you.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, immediately scared about being told off.

“No, no” you said quickly, placing a hand on his other hand. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. There’s just something that’s… Well…”

“There will be some changes in our lives…” Five helped you out. “Soon.”

“What changes?” Max looked between you.

“Well… you know how mama has been feeling unwell for the past few weeks?”

“Is… is mama sick?” Max turned to you, his eyes filling with tears.

“No darling, I’m very healthy” you smiled gently at him. “The sickness has been caused by something else” you thought for a moment on how to approach the subject. “You know Betty and Lily, how they’re sisters?” Max nodded. “They were born on the same day. But you can have siblings a few years in-between.”

“Like Dean and Paul?” he asked, referring to his classmate, who had a younger brother.

“Yes, like Dean and Paul” you nodded.

“What we’re trying to tell you is that mama is now…” Five started. “Well, mama is carrying a baby. In her stomach.”

“What?” Max looked at you, his brain working overtime.

“Yeah, darling” you moved a bit around the table, so he could see your midsection and you opened your robes. “I’m pregnant.”

Max blinked a couple times, reaching out to touch your stomach as if not trusting his eyes. “There’s a baby in there?”

“Yeah” Five nodded.

“And… he is going to be my little brother?” he asked, looking up at you.

“Or sister, we don’t know their gender yet” you smiled. “Are you happy?”

At that question Max’s eyes filled with tears and moved in to hug you. He was gentle, steering clear from your belly. There, he nestled his face into you and nodded a little.

Around your one year mark of staying at Temps, you were about ready to pop. You ached everywhere, your feet were swollen and you were constantly tired. It was no longer fun being pregnant.

But in hindsight, it was a better pregnancy than it was with Max. There were obvious differences and not just because you were in an apocalypse then. Your stomach was bigger and rounder than it was with him and also, your feet had swollen more.

You were ready for the baby, more so than you were when you learned that Five was going on a longer mission in a few days.

“Come on, baby. I don’t want your father missing your arrival” you groaned as you tried to get off of the couch in the afternoon. “He deserves to be there to greet you. Please.”

But the only thing you can do is wait. Wait for the baby to feel ready. Your doctor said that from the 38th week, it can happen any day. And you couldn’t be more happy about that fact. You were ready for them to arrive.

But they didn’t arrive that day. Nor the next one. And Five’s departure for his mission just kept crawling closer.

“Don’t worry” Five tried to placate you every night. “They’ll be here soon. And I’ll be right by your side.”

You talked to Mary about this as well. She was nice enough to offer Max a place to stay, should your labor start during the day. Which was also a big question mark in your head.

“What if my water breaks during the night? After the curfew starts? What then?”

“Well…” Five looked up from where he was massaging your feet. “I helped deliver Max, so I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

“Yeah, but what if you’re gone by the time this little one decides to come to the world?” you huffed.

“That won’t happen” Five got up and leaned over the armchair to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

“I hate this” you pouted.

“I know” he smiled gently and then went back to massaging your swollen feet.

On the last day, you start feeling worse. In the morning, you found some weird substance in your underwear, which at first weirded you out, then realized that it was probably related to your pregnancy. Your doctor was on a day off, so you couldn’t go in, but you could go to the payphone at the end of the street and call them.

They told you, after explaining what happened, that that was a good sign. Your labor was finally approaching. It still could be days but it could be only hours. They also told you to call them if any more advancements are made.

The whole day, you barely got anything done. You tried to do something as simple as sweeping the floor, but your back started aching almost instantly. You did manage to make some warm food for dinner, when your two boys showed up.

“Hi mama” Max came home first, but only a couple minutes before Five showed up.

“Hi darling” his smooth voice called from the hallway. “What did the doctor say?”

“To call them when my water breaks” you sighed, rubbing at your lower stomach.

Five hummed and came up to press a kiss to your cheek, then to Max’s, who was sitting beside you, caressing your stomach.

“The baby doesn’t move as much” Max voiced his sorrow.

“They’re sleeping more” you explained. “They’re getting ready to see you.”

“Really?” he looked up at you.

“Really” you smiled gently.

Time ticked by, slowly, even as you wished it would rush. You were in so much discomfort, you really wished that time would pass, so you could just FINALLY-

In that moment, a weird sensation ran through you and you felt a warm sensation run down your legs. Looking down, you saw that your previously dry pants were no longer dry.

Breathing hard and slightly panicked, you yelled out: “Five!”

In just a fraction of a second, Five blinked next to you and grabbed your hand, looking frantic.

“What happened?” he asked, clearly just as panicked as you.

“My… my water just broke!” you told him, still in shock. “What- what do we do?”

“Uh…” Five looked up at the clock. It was 7pm. He could try calling your doctor, but it was unlikely that they would be able to come and it was an hour til curfew. “Shit… I’ll go call the doctor, you… just try to breathe and lie down.”

He quickly made your bed, heaping the pillows, so you would be in a half-sitting, half-lying down position. He helped you lie down and then blinked into Max’s room, where he was reading his favorite book. Soon, Max was knocking on your bedroom door and then peeking his head in.

“Mama?” he asked, looking slightly scared.

“Hey darling” you breathed out, wincing at a sudden pain in your lower stomach.

“Is the baby coming?” he walked up to the bed.

“Yeah, I think they want to” you sighed.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah” you nodded, not wanting to lie. “It hurts really badly. But don’t worry, they’ll be here soon and it won’t hurt anymore.”

“Can I help?” he asked, ever the caring little boy.

“You could bring me a glass of water while daddy gets back” you smiled at him as gently as you could.

Max nodded and rushed out to fill a glass with fresh water. He was soon back, giving it to you.

“Thank you darling” you sighed as you took a couple sips.

Five was back within a couple minutes, but not with good news.

“I reached the doctor, but they can’t come” he sighed, frustrated. “He said your delivery could be an hour from now or even 24.”

“Oh God…” you sighed, dropping your head back down. “So I’ll just suffer here?”

“I’m here with you. We’ll get through this” Five took your hand gently in his, then looked back at your son, who was waiting by the bedside table, tears in his eyes. “Max, darling, I think you should go to bed. Mama will be alright” he said gently.

“But I don’t want to leave her. She’s hurt” he sniffled.

“Darling…” Five walked to him, but you interrupted him.

“Let him be here” you told him. “But Max, you have to do what daddy tells you, while you’re here, okay? Once the baby starts coming, mama will be in a lot of pain and you can’t stand in daddy’s way.”

“I promise to be a good boy” he nodded eagerly. “Please, daddy.”

“Fine” Five sighed. “I’ll get some towels.”

Your labor advances quite slowly and every half an hour you get up to walk around with Five’s help. You couldn’t be happier that he was there with you. And Max, he seemed to grow up quite a lot in the hours since your labor started. You of course wished you could spare the young boy from seeing you in pain, but you also didn’t want him to have to be scared in his room as he heard you scream through your delivery.

Which he instead got to experience right by your side. Though Five told him that he didn’t have to take your hand as you couldn’t control how tightly you hold onto it, he did anyway. His eyes were filled with tears, but he didn’t let go of your hand as you delivered the baby, his sibling.

It was quite a shorter process than it was with Max, but somehow more painful. But that all washed away, when Five finally handed them to you.

“It’s a little girl” Five said, tears in his eyes, looking at the crying baby. “I’m so proud of you, darling” he leaned down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

You sobbed as you held your little girl close, so small and fragile. Five disappeared into the bathroom to wash all the blood and other fluids away from his hands and arrived back to seeing Max on the side of the bed, looking down at his sister.

“She’s so tiny” he said quietly.

“Yeah. But you were smaller” you smiled at him.

“Really?” he blinked, his eyes big.

“Yes” Five agreed, grabbing a washcloth and cleaning up the area. “Max, how is your hand?”

The little boy seemed to only just notice his hand, too preoccupied by his sister. He lifted it and showed the red marks on it, that resembled your fingers.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry” you teared up again. “Mama didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay mama” he smiled. “It hurts, but you were hurt more.”

“You’re such a strong kid” Five praised him, kissing his head. “But come on, I’ll get some ice on that for you.”

“But mama…” he started, but then just nodded.

Once things calmed down, Max was sitting on one side of you and Five the other. You looked at your husband.

“What do you think her name should be?”

“I was kind of thinking about flowers…” he hummed.

“What about Penny though?” Max chimed in, looking at his baby sister in your arms.

“Penny? Why Penny?” you asked him gently.

“I don’t know” he shrugged.

“Well, I like Penny” Five agreed with his son. “Not my first idea, but I like the name.”

“I do too” you nodded, smiling down at your sleeping daughter. “Welcome to the world, Penny.”

Days, months, years passed in Temps as your little family grew. Max was now 13 and baby Penny 2. They were the bestest friends, even when Max’s temper got the best of him. He was going into puberty, his hormones working more and more. But the one thing he never did was hurt his baby sister, no matter what. He was gentle with her at all times.

Five was working hard. Not just with the Commission jobs, but with the equations to get you back to 2019, back to his family. He was getting closer and closer to the answer every day, but didn’t know how close.

One day though, when he was waiting to finish his work for that day, he looked through his book again. There it was. The answer. His heart beat fast as he stared at the book. He could finally… they could finally go…

But before he could think more about it, he had to finish the job and get back home as soon as he could. He needed to see Y/n, the kids. So for the next few minutes, with his heart beating fast, he waited with bated breath, keeping his gun trained on where the target would be. It was only minutes, but he felt like hours passed. He never thought time could pass by so slow.

And when the job was finally done, he wasted no time in jumping back to the Commission, passing his briefcase down and blinking into your home.

“Y/n, get the kids, we’re going” he yelled immediately, pulling his book out.

“Going? Where?” you asked from the kitchen, where you were feeding baby Penny.

“Back to my family” he said lowly when he reached the kitchen. “Come on, before they realize what I’m planning.”

“Okay” you breathed out, anxiety coursing through your veins. You put the bowl from your hands and picked her up from the highchair. “Max!” you yelled from your son as you followed Five to the living room.

“Yeah?” he called from his room.

“Come on, put your shoes on. We’re going home.”

“Home? We are…” Max stopped as he realized you didn’t mean this home. You meant the home in another time. Without another word, he put his shoes on, also picking up baby Penny’s shoes and your own as well. “Here you go, mom.”

“Thank you” you smiled thankfully at him, taking Penny’s shoes first.

“Stand by the door. This portal will be big” Five instructed, stepping back as well, his hands curling into fists.

Max took Penny from your hands so you could pull your own shoes up. The living room was suddenly lit in a blue light and you could hear Penny coo at it.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Max asked and gave her back, when you finished tying your shoes.

Suddenly there was a… fire extinguisher? flying through the portal and you only just pulled Max out of the way from it.

“Woah…” Max looked at the objects now rolling on the floor.

“Take my hand” Five suddenly yelled, reaching back for Max. “And take your mother’s.”

Max immediately took yours in his right then Five’s in his left hand. “Dad…” he didn’t, couldn’t say more, but Five looked at him.

“It’s gonna be alright” he said as gently as he could.

With that, you all took a step forward, holding each other’s hands. Going through the portal felt like wading through thick mud, the energy around you almost forcing you back. But your strong hold on each other didn’t let it.

Soon you were falling, your hand letting go of Max’s as you curled your arms around Penny, to protect her from the fall. Five did the same thing with Max and you all landed in a heap.

Groaning, you got off of Five, Penny safe in your arms. Five stood up as well, looking at Max who was…

“Mama?” the word made you turn to… little Max.

“What…” you blinked, looking at your husband, who was…

“Does anyone see little Number Five and other kids, or is that just me?” a guy asked from your right, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Five.

“Five…” you whispered, confused and shocked, bouncing a crying baby Penny in your arms.

“Y/n…” he looked you up and down, then himself as well. “Shit…”

[Part 1] [Masterlist] [Part 3]

Taglist: @snixx2088, @piopoi87, @izzyj12119, @groovydazephantom

[dadsbongos]

how to (unintentionally) drive away a suitor

5.4 k words / warnings - misunderstandings, you're manipulative but in a marriage-seeker way, lame ass exposition dump at the beginning sorry

summary - you go to The Island in hopes of finding a suitor better than what your parents picked, you meet Laios. disaster ensues.

posting while bleaching my hair send hlep ~~~

When you were five, your father’s first hunting dog died. Matilda. A hound mix he praised as if she were his firstborn, and that would sound neglectful if she didn’t feel like your eldest sister. When she died, a true member of the family died. Your child heart exploding out of your little chest with the mosaic of grief ripping you this way and that. It was so ugly, you hadn’t expected to feel that way until your parents or a human sister croaked on you.

It’d also inspired you to do better for yourself than what destiny had in mind. As the youngest in a long line of children, you had little hope of a large inheritance from your well-off father. Instead, you would marry rich and smart and handsome.

Leading you, with a throbbing disinterest in the suitor picked by your parents, to set for The Island in the year 510.

Where you met a very strange man named Laios Touden.

Denial

Month 1 - your first proposition

“We should celebrate with drinks,” you skim a finger along the waistline of his cuirass, “Another dive with no deaths.”

“Oh, yeah,” Laios nods, grinning blandly at you, “You think I could rope Shuro into sticking around this time? He usually skips nights out unless Falin asks.”

“I was thinking something a little more private. Just you and me, maybe?”

“Sure,” suddenly his brows furrow, a serious ridge setting across his lips, “Is there something you need? I know rent in the western part of The Island is starting to go up, do you live there?”

“Laios, I- “ you cut yourself off before reminding him you two live on the same street because a sudden idea strikes you. He’s doing this on purpose. Of course, he is. He’s the type of guy that wants you to actually ask for it, “I mean, if you really want then I guess everyone coming isn’t so bad.”

But two can play at that game.

“Okay, great! I’ll let the party know,” he gives you a thumbs up and turns towards the rest of your group as they pack for the surface.

You watch him wrap an arm around Toshiro and beam at the withdrawn man. You deduce that he’s the type that likes to be chased. Which you feel is a little beneath you, but you’re willing to play a long game as long as he makes it worth your time.

Month 2 - the time you take him to dinner

“This place is so quiet,” Laios murmurs, both hands splayed across the table.

You study his fingers, thick and red at the joints -- you bet a gold wedding band would glitter nicely on his hand. Candle light flickers suddenly, a shadow sharpening across his face as he looks around. This snags your attention, you lean forward and curl both arms on the table, chest pressing into the well.

“Well, it’s nice, right?”

“I guess,” he avoids looking you in the face, instead focusing on your painted lips before flitting to the table, “I just feel like it's more for couples, right?”

This is it!

“Huh, you think so?”

“Mhm,” his eyes settle between your own, observing the curve from your forehead to your nose.

“I bet we make a pretty couple, then.”

“Oh,” he nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion, “Probably. I’d say we’re both decently attractive people.”

Is this it?

Just as you go to ask what exactly he means by that, your food is ready and Laios starts rambling about how hungry he was regardless of the awkward atmosphere. It makes no sense, but he’s the next village chief of his hometown so you let it pass.

Month 6 - the time you two take a walk

“Thanks for accompanying me.”

Laios waves off your gratitude, “It was nice to find out we live on the same street anyway.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that he should already know this in favor of boldly wrapping an arm around his. A rehearsed yelp splices your throat; practiced stumble rocking you askew. Immediately, you set to memorizing the feel of his beefy bicep around yours, wondering how his waist feels. His thighs. His neck and calves and cheeks.

“I saw a rat,” the lie slips easily, spare hand coming up to coyly cup your own cheek.

“Really?” he peeks over your head, “Where?”

“Laios, that’s not important!”

“I didn’t hear any squeaking, do you think it was trying to be quiet?”

“Laios!” you pinch his arm, apologetically rubbing over the tender skin when he whines, “I hate rats…”

“They’re just- “ your sudden furrowing brows and massive scowl halts the rest of his sentence, “Sorry. Are you scared of them?” before you can respond, he spins you towards his other side -- arms still linked tightly, “If you heard it over here, it’s probably best I stay on this side.”

“Aww,” you tilt your head against his shoulder, “That’s actually so sweet, Laios. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” you’re too blinded by the gesture to notice his intense stare scavenging along the dark ground, if you did then you probably would’ve realized he just wanted to see a rat.

Month 11 - the time you find his gourmet guide

“Is this why you started a party?”

“No,” his face flushes rogue from forehead to collarbones, eyes darting away from you. Hands twitching to rip the book from your own.

“You’re an awful liar,” you wave the stained, peeling green book -- careful to not rip any of his carefully placed tabs or note cards in the swaying, “Why hide this? Everyone already knows you’re chock full of monster trivia.”

Laios sighs quietly, reaching out for the book, and he seems genuinely surprised with what little fight you put up. He smooths one of the curling edges of the cover under his thumb, “This book hasn’t gotten the best reception before. It's easier to just avoid people seeing it.”

Somewhere in your chest, there’s a twinge and ache before you’re speaking again -- for once no plan or motive to your words, “That’s terrible, Laios. You should be able to show it off.”

“You think so?” he grins.

Technically comforting him will only advance your plan to wed, but strangely you’re finding that you just… want to. You don’t want him to filter himself to live, that sounds cruel.

“You can talk to me about it anytime,” you don’t find monsters so fascinating -- to you they’re no different from a common beast, what does it matter that they’re eaten by Laios? Despite your own indifference, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios, “I’d love to hear about how they taste.”

And you’re not sure where that desire comes from.

“I haven’t been able to eat one yet, but I’m hoping to. I can’t find time to traverse the first few floors by myself.”

You just know that it feels right to see him excited.

“You don’t have to go by yourself now, I can join. You’ll be able to go deeper that way, right?” you laugh at his flaming cheeks, “And what luck: I’m a support mage, you couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I’ll have to see when our next rest period is, that way we won’t be exhausted before going on our own.”

And when you’re in bed alone later that night, you justify to yourself that having a secret between one another will lay good foundation for future intimacy. You pretend that was on your mind the entire time you made the offer.

Year 2 - the time you invite him into your home

“I have lychees. It’d be a shame to let them go bad, you know?”

“What are lychee?” Laios glances from your neck to your room door.

“You’re kidding,” you twist the knob and swing it open with the weight of your body, thudding against the wall to allow Laios entry, “They’re fruits! Imports from the Eastern Archipelago, I would’ve thought you’d hear about them since you pester Toshiro about the area all the time…”

Laios’ head is on a full axis swivel to find anything unfamiliar, ready to taste all your excitement about the fruits, “No, never came up,” he watches you stride past him to a cabinet, “By the way, whose Toshiro?”

Quietly, you laugh to yourself, pulling down a rocky, pinkish ball. Laios is too busy thinking about the damage it’s looking to do to his bare hand to process the fact you never answered his question.

(you thought he was joking)

“Consider this a gift for walking me home again.”

“You asked,” he shrugs, watching as you squeeze around the fruit until it cracks in the middle, then peeling the shell away, “Besides, we live on the same street so it’s not out of my way.”

You hope he says that because he remembered, rather than having ‘discovered’ it for the fourth time. To stop yourself from asking clarification, you slice the pearly fruit in two, plucking the dark seed before handing both halves to Laios.

“I’ve heard some people just pop the whole thing in their mouth, but I’ve never tried it that way,” you confess, watching him roll the fruit from one cheek to the other before chomping down.

Laios’ eyes flutter shut, a muted moan following, “That’s sweet.”

“I know, right?”

“But I still get hints of citrus.”

“I know, right?!”

He points to the other lychee in your palm, “Do you have more, or…?”

You don’t.

“Have it,” you peel and deseed the one in your hand to press against his lips, “Say ‘ahh’!”

He smiles faintly at the cooing, popping his mouth open for you to slide the fruit past his teeth and onto his tongue. A soft kiss tickles your fingertips as he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Uh, yeah,” you pull back slowly, tangling your fingers behind your back and rocking onto the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

You’ve never been nervous this way around a man before. You’ve felt fear and you’ve felt hatred and you’ve had crushes, but none of those have made your heart pound quite so hard.

It’ll be good to be attracted to your husband, you think, anybody can marry into power but it takes a real hunter to find power so handsome and polite.

Year 3 - the time you ask him to marry you

“We should get married,” you blurt, interrupting Laios as he ponders aloud the best way to safely boil a scorpion.

Laios darts up from his book, wide eyes unabashedly boring into your soul, “What?”

“You and me,” you’ve chased enough, now you’re ready for him to get serious -- you can’t live like this. Dangling just out of reach, only to be abruptly yanked at his whim. Your parents want to meet your fiance, the one you’ve abandoned home to find: the one you’re apparently certain is better than their choice for you. You need him to admit defeat before you go insane, “We should get married.”

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” he closes his beloved gourmet guide around a bookmark you crafted specially for him from braided yarn and beads. It had multiple tassels for slotting various spots through the guide simultaneously to more easily find sections he was currently occupied with rather than sort through tabs. He loves its practicality, and he loves it more when he thinks about how you made it with him in mind.

He thinks you’re nice. He thinks you’re charming. He likes spending time with you. You even already know about his monster obsession, and you’re on-board!

Which is basically the best he can get, right?

Dinners with his parents were silent, and the room’s temperature would sink to match their chilly demeanors.

Dinners with you would be warm, and the quiet moments would be comfortable.

“Sure,” he eventually answers, when he finds no protesting nausea bubbling in his gut he takes it as a good sign, “We can get married.”

Not the exact response you’d been hoping for. Though, you should’ve been more direct, Laios is stubbornly socially inept after all.

You’ll mark it as progress anyway, overjoyed Laios is baseline willing. Which is enough for you.

Definitely enough.

Definitely. Just. Enough.

Anger

Upon arrival to the dungeon three years ago, you found it difficult to acclimate to the fact that death was not the end down here. When you saw your first corpse on the second level, you were nigh inconsolable in the weary arms of Toshiro as he mumbled assurances in your ear.

Now, as a seasoned adventurer, you’re reasoning that coldblooded murder isn’t immoral in the dungeon.

(of course, it is, and also of course, you won’t murder anybody. but- )

You rather like the image of the woman flirting with Laios exploding

Honestly the longer he goes without refusing her, the more you like the image of him exploding too.

“Laios is an idiot,” Toshiro again is the one to comfort you, “It’s best not to watch.”

You’re sure he’s right. You’re also sure you want to keep watching -- which will entirely ruin your mood for the crawl ahead of your party. This is only your first day, on the first level, during the first meal before you all officially set off. And Laios is explaining to a strange, yet beautiful, woman the way a slime can seep out overhead and suffocate her to death. She isn’t even appreciating the knowledge, she’s just staring at his stupid pink lips.

“Once she hears what he’s saying, she’ll lose all interest,” Toshiro adds, then continuing as your glare fails to subside, “It isn’t like you two are actually married. She probably thinks he’s single.”

“He is single,” Chilchuck buds in, hands locked behind his head, “Inter-party relationships are bad news, you know? I’ve seen lots of people fall apart because of jealousy and cheating,” he shoots daggers at Toshiro briefly, “Pining is just the first step to an all out collapse.”

You gasp at the accusation. You are not pining!

“I don’t even like him that way. We should just get married for the land and wealth advantages!”

You entertain his monster fantasies for the money, you feed him lychees for the status, and you’re fiending to rip that woman away for the property expansion. That’s all! His being handsome is just a bonus, not a factor. His soft heart is a neat detail, not something you dream about holding.

Chilchuck doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think you believe yourself at this point either.

Depression

In the wake of Chilchuck’s ominous warning: you’ve been avoiding Laios. You’ve been avoiding most of your party, actually. First to lay and last to rise from your bedroll to most effectively close yourself off from nipping at Laios again.

He hadn’t even managed the nerve to ask what had you so perturbed following his conversation with the floozy on the first floor. He just strolls along, normal as he could hope to be while you languish in the back of the party with Toshiro. You wonder if Laios notices you’re not at his side, you wonder what precisely is going through his head. Did he notice she was flirting? Did he care? Is he still keen on marrying you?

Was he ever?

Toshiro catches the sudden exasperated huff you let out, you rub at your aching eyes. While he detests Laios’ clueless and overly familiar nature, he does feel grateful to work with you. He’d consider it a massive shame if you were to drop from the party because of emotional duress.

“Read any good books lately?”

Your hands lower, eyes blinking sluggishly until you’re staring at him with full inquisition, “What…?”

Maintaining a forward stare, Toshiro reaffirms his resolve, “Humor me.”

“Uh, well…” you comb through your brain for any answer other than the honest one, exhaustion and melancholy blurring your lying ability, “Just one.”

Eager to strengthen your bond and hopefully secure your stay in the party when this Laios fiasco fully explodes, Toshiro smiles softly at you, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s, well, old. Really old. A little gourmet guide…” you pout, “Laios and I read it together.”

“Oh,” Toshiro clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Bargaining

Laios could not seem to care less as the handsome dwarf perched at your side pays you yet another compliment. A shred of you feels terrible, terrible pity for the man as every other second your attention sears across the packed tavern to your party. To the blondie still in his armor; the blondie not even looking your way.

“Another drink, then?”

“Hm?” you beat ungracefully, forgetting you were meant to be charming the man.

“Would you like another drink?” he gestures to the barrels behind the bar, “On my coin, of course,” his tone falters, head shifting to follow yours, “I get the idea you need to forget this night.”

“Oh, I- no, it’s nothing…” you risk another peek at Laios, finding him somehow more disinterested in you than before -- thoroughly enjoying a one-sided conversation with Toshiro, “I’m not…”

“Better ways to get your mister’s attention than flirting.”

“Oh,” you’re embarrassed to be figured out like this, “I’m sorry. Really, I can’t- God- I’m sorry.”

“He’s lookin’ this way.”

Chancing it, you confirm that Laios is now looking at the both of you. His amber eyes flit from your face to the man beside you, to the floor. He returns all focus to Toshiro.

“Wow.”

From pitier to pitied at breakneck speed is more jarring than Laios’ carelessness.

“He said he wanted to marry me,” you reason.

“Did he now?” the dwarf so obviously disbelieves you, you’re sick just hearing his voice.

“Yeah!”

The dwarf nods slowly, a sarcastic lilt in his following words, “Seems like he meant it.”

“I’m not drinking anymore…” you slide off the bar stool, pausing when the man’s voice punches your gut once more.

“You should find someone more attentive to you.”

Racing away from the dwarf, you tug Laios away from your party’s table by his elbow. You’re glaring, you’re glaring so hard and so viciously that it genuinely startles him.

“Are you okay?” his neck cranes to gaze upon the dwarf, “You were talking to that guy, right? Did he freak you out?”

“So you knew I was with him?” you scoff, “Don’t you care at all?”

Laios shrugs, he didn’t see flirting -- he has no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t want to seem like a nightmare boss, so… “Not really, I guess.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not a crime for you to unwind at a bar. Besides, it isn’t like we belong to each other or something.”

You turn suddenly, back completely to him before charging out of the bar -- Laios chases, disliking how this conversation is slated to end. He slams into you at the edge of the street, and when he tries balancing you by the shoulders you knock his hands away.

“I thought- “ you circle back to stare at his face, “I thought we were… I was always on top of you, and we- I said- you said we should get married.”

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

Acceptance

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

“I never knew,” he blinks at you, and the most dreadful thing is you know he’s not bluffing. Laios is a terrible liar, you’ve prided yourself on plucking his fibs apart in the past, but this is not one of those times.

“You didn’t notice?” you’re lightheaded at his nonchalance, arms coiling around your waist as if to belt your insides right where they are, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No,” Laios’ pretty lips tear in a frown, “Should I have?”

He means it literally: are you terribly sad or can we start all over again?

You assume he’s being himself, oblivious and avoidant and so, so, so annoying.

“I’m…” you stumble back, face so hot you’re seconds away from blacking out with terror. Stretching out to steady you, Laios continues to play the kind leader, and it only makes your dinner lurch up your throat. Instinctually, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your head and taking a step back toward the bustling dirt path, “I’m going home.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can- ”

You shush Laios, memories whacking you over the head every millisecond just to taunt how stupid you were. Indignity blinds you, eyes snapping shut, “I’m going home, Laios.”

Panicked, you stammer a goodbye before lugging yourself away. Laios watches you fade into silhouette, drowning under the clogging crowd by townsquare until not even your head is visible. His fists screw at his sides, knuckles burning white, his feet feel the phantom pummeling of a rush against the ground; urging him forward. That might scare you though, and you already seemed awfully upset, so Laios figures it better to let you sleep off tonight. The two of you can rekindle tomorrow.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spot no broad shoulders or sandy blonde hair looming over the rest of the townsfolk.

Call it melodramatic and frustrating, but you were hoping Laios would follow just to grab your hand and ask you to stay. Not that you should be surprised. More often than not recently, you’d felt a burden on the party. Perhaps Laios is content you’re removing yourself. Perhaps he’ll be relieved you’re no longer pestering him. Perhaps he’ll walk inside and out your feelings to the rest of the party for them to share a laugh over.

(you should know him better than that, but you’re not in your right mind: storming into your room, a teary-eyed mess, to throw your things into bags)

Laios feels a lithe hand dig nails into his arm, he squeals sharply at the sensation and rips back to see Marcille gaping up at him. She throws an arm out toward the dirt road, “What are you doing?!”

Falin gently pries the elf off from Laios before humming thoughtfully at her brother, “They seemed really distraught. What happened?”

“Where’d you two come from?” Laios twists toward the tavern door, “I didn’t hear you at all…”

Flustered at the questioning, Marcille scoffs and drags Laios inside toward their table, “This isn’t about us! Have you never read romance before?! That was terrible!”

“They were upset, they probably wanted space,” Laios reasons, slumping into his seat at the head of the table, “We’ll see them tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“What’d you do now?” Chilchuck lifts a bottle of wine to his lips and tosses it back in a way that makes Toshiro cringe.

Namari quirks a brow at the man, waiting until he’s finished gulping to ask, “I thought you hated personal relationships and work?”

“I do, but if he just got rid of our other cleric then we should probably know about it.”

“I didn’t get rid of them!” Laios folds his arms with a sigh, “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when we’re well-rested.”

Toshiro debates even opening his mouth. Laios is a one-man paradox, somehow well-meaning and belligerent in one breath -- overbearing and entirely hands-off. Laios’ spot in Toshiro’s heart is a complicated one: at this very moment the spot is incredibly tender. Down to that part of a night out where Toshiro empathizes with how clueless the bumpkin is, and it's that part of his brain that chastises him. After all, if it were him and Falin, he would want someone to say something.

“They’re going home,” Toshiro mumbles.

“Huh?” Laios cocks his head at the input, “I know, buddy, she told me she was heading home.”

“No,” be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice, “Home off The Island. No returning to the dungeon.”

“How’d you get all that?” Marcille leans onto the table with both elbows, nervously brushing long flaxen locks behind her ears.

“When we first met, it was something we talked about,” Toshiro confesses, “If they couldn’t marry on The Island, they’d have to take the suitor arranged by their parents back home. This rejection must be the final one.”

With Falin around, he decides to bite back his next statement: I’m not sure why Laios caught their eye in the first place, though.

“Pretty ditzy of you, party leader,” Chilchuck’s jab echoes into the bottle already resettled against his lips.

Laios stands, unsure of why except for the fact he cannot take the news lightly. His heart is racing in protest, one word jamming another in his hurry to speak, until he finally stutters out, “So?”

So, what should I do?

So, why wouldn’t you mention that?

So, why did he let you walk home alone?

“So…” Falin jumps to respond first, settling a massassing hand on Marcille’s shoulder to subdue the fuming woman, “If you want to smooth things over, you should probably go.”

Laios charges from the tavern despite Namari’s scolding that tonight was supposed to be on his tab.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact you’re long gone, Laios heads straight for the inn he and Falin live above. Certain once on that road, the memory of which hostel you’re renting out of will flood back to him.

. . .

You’re jamming bags puffy to the clasp when overzealous knocks threaten to rattle your door from its hinges. The only reason you don’t flee via window to shake the banging madman is because you recognize his voice: Laios, calling your name.

You sigh, forfeiting, “Come in, Laios!”

Despite your own disinterest, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios. It seems that this is something you’ll let devour you.

Flinging the door open and shut behind him, Laios stares at you -- slack jawed and pupils eating away irises. He stares into your face.

“What is it, Lai- “

“We can actually get married!” he blurts, stunning you into utter bewilderment, “You don’t have to take a suitor, you can marry me for real! I don’t care much for inheriting the village, but we can tell your parents I do.”

“Laios…”

“I don’t have much to throw for a wedding, though, so it’ll have to be something quieter than you probably imagined.”

“Laios.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t marry you,” you turn away from his confused pinch, now sweeping a finger along the scratched edge of your nightstand, “You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it,” he says so casually, you almost believe it’s really that easy.

“I can’t marry you because I don’t care about your dad,” he’s struggling to hold in the confused puppy-head-tilt of questioning, you can sense it, “I stopped throwing myself at you for stupid titles a while ago. For a long time I did it genuinely. Because I wanted to.”

“Because you liked me.”

“Now he gets it,” you huff bitterly.

“I can hear you,” Laios steps bravely to be beside you, “Do you still like me?”

You laugh because that’s all you can think to do. The sun just asked a daisy if it enjoys photosynthesis. A rhino wonders if the oxpecker is well fed. A black cat curls around an orange one in a window sill. Weeds grow so tangled up they need to be ripped as a knot. Two moth-gnawed coats hanging in the back of a rich man’s closet. Stars scorching at one another, colliding lightyears ahead. Squiggly stick figures holding hands in a defaced oil painting. Two eagles clawing at one another as they plummet from the sky.

“I don’t know if there’s a plane where I don’t.”

His morbid fascination and tactless enjoyment of life have you in a chokehold, one so fatally unshakable you’re certain he’ll someday kill you. Eventually, he’ll say something so thoughtlessly true to himself, with so much excitement it oozes from his pores, that you’ll have a heart attack then and there.

“So, why not stay?”

One day, he’ll lead you so deep into the dungeon that you cannot escape.

“You know what you’re implying, right?” your voice catches behind chattering teeth, a nervous whisper all you can manage, “I couldn’t, not if you’re just saying this out of guilt.”

“I know what I’m saying, I want you to stay so we can be together,” his face flushes, “I know how selfish it is, but I don’t want you to go home and marry someone else for your family. I want us to marry each other because I like you.”

His abrupt and daring confession has you petrified. Only your jaw is capable of movement, and the most it can do is dumbly drop before you gargle out a stunted, “Okay.”

“Okay!” he excitedly flails out both arms before crushing you against his cuirass, intensely aggressive and deeply endearing at once, “Do I have to meet your parents now?”

“Yes, that’s kind of the reason they let me stay here, you know? To see who I’d find on The Island instead of home.”

“I hate meeting adults… they’re so… weird.”

You choose not to point out that he, as well as everyone he associates with, is an adult.

“Just be yourself,” a sudden, maybe minorly manipulative, plan roars behind your eyes, “You’ll impress them so much, they’ll leave me alone forever!”

Hope

“And since they’re slimes, if you poke their eyes they stay perfectly calm! Which is another good way to tell them from the human they’re mimicking,” your dad made the mistake of asking Laios what he studied, misinterpreting your use of ‘fascinated by nature’ to mean ‘biology scholar’. Laios immediately began ranting and neither of your parents had reawakened from their shock yet, “Succubi can also duplicate people, but that’s usually when taking the most desired form their target has. Which is mainly sex appeal, so for me it’d probably be, well you know!” he affectionately squeezes your hand in view of your parents. You watch a little more of your dad’s soul crumble within his eyes, “The strangest is probably mirror monsters though, since they reflect what they see. They rely on flattery and illusions to swap with humans. I’d love to meet one so I could see their lure techniques in real time.”

“Wow, honey,” you grin, peeking at your parents across the table, “Can you circle back to how the shapeshifters make their copies? I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d use memories instead of the real things!”

“Oh, so it’s actually pretty simple!” Laios devolves into another ramble, eyes alight with excitement.

You’re just as glad to be feeding his need to talk about monsters as you are to be terrifying your parents.

“And you have a village in the North?” your father finally coughs out, holding a hand up to silence Laios.

“It’s my father’s,” Laios glances at you through his peripherals, visibly unsure how to carry out the conversation. To his credit, he’d pestered you about what exactly you wanted him to say about his father, and you only brushed it off as something you’d take care of.

“You’re the eldest, right?” your mom chews her thumbnail nervously, “A son at that!”

“Yes, yes, he’s a firstborn son,” Dad looks to you, “It was in the letter!”

“I am,” Laios’ foot taps beneath the table. Again glancing at you for further prompting.

“We’re not moving from The Island anytime soon,” you return Laios’ previous hand-squeeze, hoping to ease his nerves. You sit up straight, “We want to keep exploring the dungeon.”

“Yes, but after that?” Dad’s eyes are wet with concern and dread, “You’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I’m fine living like this, I’ve had lots of fun -- I want to keep having fun. I’m excited to marry Laios, and he’s excited to marry me,” to add to your point, Laios nods enthusiastically, “I’m happy marrying for love, and I don’t care what it implies about me as your child.”

Meeting Laios was like striking gold. He’s different from anybody you grew up with, and you’re content to be with him as you continue to grow old.

“If you’re sure,” Mom lays a hand on your father’s back, as if to wrangle a dog before it bites, “Just visit more often, okay?” she catches how Laios perks up at the mention of more traveling, “And bring Laios, too. He’s very… interesting…”

You know. That’s why you courted (suffered) him for actual years.

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

My Honey ♡ My Bee (fic)

Link to Art (credits go to @munchr00m (elaine !) on Twitter!): Sethos/Scaramouche

—

Summary: Wanderer and Sethos hang out, but Scara’s thoughts and uncertainty about their dynamic in the future end up eating at him. Sethos reassures him through convincing means.

A/N: SethoScara!! These two have me in a chokehold and the art and fanfics for these two are amazing. And here is my contribution :) Inspiration for this fic comes from this post. I did my best to retain Scara’s bratty attitude, but I also wanted to show a softer and vulnerable side to him. So, I’m sorry if Scaramouche seems OOC to you all. With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

P.S. There is a small scene that might be slightly NSFW to some, you’ll see it when you get to it, so you can skip the section until you don’t see any of the stuff you don’t want to see. Can’t reveal too much for spoilers. If anyone’s interested in me writing a smut fic (would be my first!) for these two, let me know! I’ll leave a poll :)

Word Count: 1965 Also on AO3!

—

The sky was a mix of red and orange hues as the sun set over the horizon. At the base of a tree outside of Sumeru City sat Wanderer and Sethos. The two of them have grown to like each other’s presence and made the tree their special spot to be with one another.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sethos spoke.

“You have poor taste in beauty,” Scaramouche answered, making Sethos chuckle. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

“Hehe, I know. I never get tired of your responses.”

“Hmph, weirdo.”

A comforting silence settled afterward before Scaramouche spoke again.

“Why…Why do you keep putting up with me?”

The seriousness in his tone made Sethos look at him with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a nobody. Someone who tried to become a god. A puppet that was thrown away because they were useless. One that makes mean and snarky comments. Why? Why do you want to be with someone like me?”

A surprised look crossed Sethos’s face.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I like being with you.”

Scara’s eyes widened as Sethos continued.

“I was curious about your mysterious past and kept pestering you until you told me. When you did, I didn’t turn away disgusted or begin to hate you. All it did was make me want to be with you even more.”

Conflicting emotions and uncertainty ran through Wanderer's eyes before they were stopped by a hand on his cheek.

“You dare-” Scara started, making a move to swat Sethos’s hand away before Sethos started stroking his cheek with his thumb. He went quiet as he made eye contact with Sethos who had an endearing expression on his face.

“I'll take care of you.”

I'll take care of you.

A flicker of light is shown behind Wanderer’s eyes upon hearing those words. But as quick as it came, his eyes darkened with uncertainty.

“It's rotten work.”

“Not to me.”

Surprised, stormy eyes met determined, loving ones.

“Not if it's you.”

Those words were an arrow to his heart as tears from decades of sadness, anger, and hurt threatened to fall. The world seemed to blur around him as his senses were solely focused on the man in front of him.

“The things you mentioned are in the past. It's time for you to move on and not let them plague your mind.”

Sethos leaned closer, accidentally making Scara’s hat fall off his head. The latter could hardly care as he felt Sethos comb his fingers through his hair and his breath on his face. Not to mention the soft lips that were barely a millimeter from his own.

“You aren't useless, Scara.”

Sethos’s warm breath hit him in the face as he spoke.

“You aren't a nobody either. Since our first interaction with one another, I was obsessed with you. Your hat. Your past. Your attitude. But most importantly, what hid behind those stormy eyes of yours. And the more I got to learn about you, I began falling for you. I wanted you. I liked you. I love being with you. Your sassy attitude, you calling me a busy bee, I cherished those moments. In my eyes, you are the perfect being and you have a place in my heart. I will go to the ends of the world to fight with you. To be with you. To…love you.”

Sethos pushed forward, softly planting his lips on Wanderer’s. He melted into the kiss, kissing back with fervor as Sethos took the lead.

“Sethohh- mmm~”

Sethos smiled into Scara’s mouth, taking pride in making him fall apart. Taking it a step further, he licked his lips asking for entrance. When he met no resistance and instead Wanderer parted his lips, he dove right in.

“Se- mmph! Mmhmm~”

“Mmm~”

Sethos sucked his tongue, making him roll his eyes in ecstasy as he tangled his fingers in Sethos's hair. Sethos deepened the kiss, gently pushing his back to the ground.

“S- ahh! Mmm~ Aah! Mmphahh~”

“Mmochi~ Hah! Scaraah~ Mmm~ You have hah~ too many ngh~ na- aah~ names~”

They continued their make-out session, drowning in each other's embrace and letting out their feelings for one another.

They broke for breath after some time. Sethos towering over Wanderer with his arms on both sides of his head and the latter laying his head back on the grass looking up at Sethos. His face was flushed, complimenting the pink and orange hues of the sky and Scara couldn't help but reach out a hand towards his cheek, caressing him.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out.

A red tint started to spread to Sethos's ears and a shy smile started to form.

“M-Me?”

“snort. Yes, you.”

He wrapped his arms around Sethos, bringing him down to his chest.

“I hate how you make me feel so mushy inside."

There's no bite behind those words. Instead, love and affection.

“It's my job now, honey~”

“Argh, Sethos.”

“What? You call me a bee, I call you honey. Plus, you are so sweet-”

“I am not sweet.”

“Yes, you are. Especially your taste. Sweet like honey. No wonder I am a bee that is so attracted to you~”

Scara just groaned, his face flushed red. “Where did you even learn to kiss like that?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, that. Heh,” Sethos rubbed the back of his head, rolling off him and laying beside him.

“You know how they say the quiet ones are the interesting ones? I'm far from being quiet, but since being in the Temple of Silence, I tend to be alone in my thoughts a lot and my imagination runs wild. And when I first laid my eyes on you, I never stopped thinking what it would be like to kiss those lips of yours.”

Wanderer’s heart fluttered in his chest, knowing that Sethos was thinking of him from the first time they met.

“And how did it feel?” he asked, turning to him.

“We both know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Sethos chuckled, facing him. “Alright, if you really want to hear it. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. The moment just felt right. When our lips touched, a pleasant tingling sensation traveled down my spine. Having your lips locked on mine, it just felt like we were meant to be together. Oh! Your moans. Don’t get me started on your moans. They were sweet as hon-”

“Okay, you are just teasing and trying to make me flustered.”

“Maybe~ Is it working?”

“Not even.”

“You sure about that? What's that reddening on your ears?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, you are asking for it, annoying bee.”

“I'll like to see you- ack! Ahahaha! T-Tihihickling is cheheating!”

Scaramouche smirked, hearing his giggles as he tased his sides with ease. “Aw. Sucks to be you then~”

“Wahahait! Nohohoho fahahair!”

Scara draped himself over Sethos, lazily tracing random patterns from his shoulder blades to his neck to his chest and back again.

“Doesn't take much for me to make you giggle, little bee.”

“Hahahaha! Mohohochihi! Gehehet off mehehehe!” Sethos tried to roll around to no avail.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” Scara put on a fake thinking face for a few moments before he began to knead Sethos’s hips making him choke on a surprised laugh. “Nah.” A smug look crossed his face. “I want to do this all day~”

“GAhahaha! Nohohoho! You ahahare- NAHAHAHA! Nohot thahat SPOHOHOT!”

Sethos shrieked as his lover dug his fingers into his armpits causing him to clamp them down.

“You are losing, my love~” Wanderer teased, rubbing deep circles into his lover's armpits causing him to howl with laughter.

“AHAHAHA! HOHOHONEY! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAD!”

“Oh really? Here, let me help. Tickle tickle tickle~”

“THAHAHAT’S NOHOHOT HEHELPING! YOU’RE MAHAHAKING IHIHIT WOHORSE!”

“How about this? Coochie coochie coo~”

“STAHAHAP TEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE! AHAHAHA!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Scara said, playing dumb.

“YOHUHU LIAHAHAR! YOU- GAHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

Sethos squealed as Scara used his thumb to massage his upper ribs.

“PLEheaSE ScahahARA!”

“Oh, my ticklish, little bee. Begging already? We are barely getting started~”

He decided to have a little mercy on Sethos, slowing down, so he could take a breather.

“Thahank youhuhu,” he giggled out.

“I’ll tell you what,” Scara started. “If you don’t laugh for 5 minutes straight, you win the challenge and get to tickle me to your heart’s content. If you lose, get ready to be tickled without mercy.”

“Pfft, 5 minutes. I can handle that. Challenge accepted!”

Wanderer inwardly grinned, his scheme working as he kissed Sethos with passion. Being caught off guard, Sethos quickly recovered, returning the kiss, unaware of the one hand that was inching closer and closer to his side until-

“MMPHAHAHA!”

Perfect.

“Noho! Youhuhu caught mehe off guahard!”

“I win~” Scara cheekily said. “Seems like that was your best… what a pity.”

“You planned that from the start!” Sethos pouted.

He stuck his tongue out towards Sethos. “Bleh, I win and that is all that matters. Come here and give me my prize.”

He lunged toward Sethos, leaving him no time to escape before he crawled his fingers under his clothes and attacked his tummy.

“I’ll geHEt yOUhu bahACK! AhAHAhAha!”

“Keep on dreaming little bee~”

After what felt like an eternity to Sethos of Wanderer skittering his fingers along his sensitive spots and teasing him to oblivion, his lover let up, lying right beside him.

“Mouchehe, you’re a ruhuthlehess tihickler.”

“Heh, that means that I’m still good at it or you are just too ticklish for your own good, or maybe both.”

“Scaraaa.”

They both fell into a peaceful silence as they stared up at the now starry sky, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Sethos?” Wanderer’s voice was soft when he spoke his name.

“Hmm?”

“Your words from before, I wanted to hear someone say those words to me for so long.”

“Which ones? You being sweet?” Sethos teased.

“Sethos,” Scara groaned. “I’m trying to be vulnerable here.”

“Hehe. Sorry sorry,” he chuckled, turning towards him and hugging him.

“I’m talking about when you told me you’d take care of me,” Scaramouche continued, snuggling into his embrace. “How it’s not rotten work to you and how you love me.”

He took a breath before continuing.

“It's all I ever wanted. Someone to say those words to me.”

A shooting star raced through the sky, lighting up his eyes. Sethos saw hope and a new spark of life in those mesmerizing eyes of his.

“I know I’m a bratty character and that’ll probably never go away, but I love you. I truly love you, even if I don’t show it at times. And…and I’ll go to the ends of the world for you too.”

Sethos could see the tips of his ears reddening and he inwardly grinned at how cute he was before going in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“Mochi, I love you so much. You are so freakin cute right now. But in all seriousness, I’m happy that you are in my life and I can’t wait to spend all of it with you. My sweet, honey love.”

“Archons, you are going to be the death of me you mushy bee.”

Sethos brought their lips together for a slow and soft kiss. Knocking their foreheads softly together, both of them stared into each other’s eyes, enjoying the moment before pulling away. Sethos was the first to stand up, grinning from ear to ear. Wanderer shook his head in amusement, picking up his hat and setting it atop his head before reaching out towards his lover’s outstretched hand. They started their way back into the city, hand in hand with fingers entwined.

My Honey.

My Bee.

—

More questions are in the Google Form if you want to provide more feedback. Plus, the question for a potential smut fic. Thank you again for reading and your time :)

Link to Google Form

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk part 1 [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | next

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and Stanford got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

[slutforsjy]

“Can I be Layla’s Mom?”

Synopsis: You made Jake mad (?) and uncomfortable with your banner, so he invited you backstage to talk about it 😇

Genre: SMUT!

Pairing: Idol!Jake X Engene Fem!Reader

Warnings: Making out, blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, spit kink, grinding, almost sex, pervert jake, nasty jake, dom jake, PURE FILTH!

Word Count: 3k +

a/n this is my first time writing pls bare with me 😭 also eng is not my first language so….rb and comment if you enjoy it 🥰

You and your friend, swept up in the pulsating energy of the crowd, singing along with your favorite group, etching memories that will forever linger in your mind. The venue is a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, with flashing lights illuminating the stage and electrifying the atmosphere.

Attending a concert had always been a dream, lured by the promise of electrifying vibes, enchanting ambiance, and the palpable connection with the performers, especially your favorite, Jake.

There were so many banners and signs around for enhypen to read and yours were the one that caught the attention of the members.

It says….

“JAKE! CAN I BE LAYLA’S MOM?” with a picture of him and Layla that he posted on twitter.

For the rest of the members they thought it was funny, but for Jake, it sparked a different reaction. The moment he saw you waving that banner, it was at first funny to him at least, until his gaze traveled from your face down to your tight ass dress pushing your breast out a little bit, his reaction shifted.

You tried to catch his attention more as you started jumping, shouting, singing, and dancing not knowing how your boobs wiggle in front of him. His jaw clenched at the sight and you didn’t miss the way he licked his lips. Of course, your fans around you went crazy duh 🙄 but for you? you can’t seem to read what was that expression.

As the concert drew to a close, with each member delivering their heartfelt messages to the crowd, your eyes remained fixated on Jake. When he finished speaking, you seized the opportunity to capture his attention once more, by showing him your banner. However, instead of amusement, you sensed a flicker of irritation in his demeanor. You saw him cock his head looking annoyed by your actions as he diverted his gaze over to the other side of the stage and started waving at the fans instead.

You got worried, fearing that your playful gesture may have crossed a line and maybe it’s not an inappropriate banner for you to show him in the first place. But you just shrugged it off as you put your banner inside your bag and just enjoy the rest of the concert.

Everything inside the venue happens so quickly, and clearly, you don’t want to go home especially that your bias is mad at you. During their encore, you never miss a time when jake steals a look from you. He would look at you with a sharp eyes and then look at somewhere else when you catch him looking directly at you.

At this point you are so worried maybe because you truly made him uncomfortable with that stupid banner.

You’re so stupid!

Consumed by guilt and disappointment, you didn’t enjoy the rest of the concert. You really feel like crying, wanting to apologize to Jake which makes it worse as the thought of never meeting him again hits you and you’re never gonna have a chance to tell him that you’re sorry.

Once they bid their final goodbye, a wave of melancholy washed over you watching how the stage slowly closes hiding the seven most precious human beings for you.

“Bitch what was going on with you and jake?” you were jolted by your friend’s sudden question

See? Your friend noticed it too!

“Right? I really don’t know what I did wrong” you screamed, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon you.

“Dude he stares at you like he’s going to kill you” she says jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Damn! maybe i made him uncomfortable with my banner” your friend nodded noting how you didn’t use your banner at the latter part of the concert.

For the record, it wasn’t your intention to make anyone uncomfortable especially Jake, you made it for fun! even you friends and the other members find it funny. How is it not funny for Jake too!

As the crowd dispersed, your friends lingered for a final photo, offering a brief distraction from your swirling thoughts. Lost in the digital snapshots of the evening, you were startled by an unexpected interruption.

“Excuse me” he says tapping your shoulder.

You thought it was another engene asking you to take a photo of them but to your surprise you saw what is written in his shirt.

‘STAFF’

“Uhm sorry we’re actually done taking photo, we’ll head out quickly after this” you smiled at him.

You are about the go out of the venue when he calls you again.

“Uhm actually someone wants to see you…… at the backstage” You are so shocked and confused.

“W-what? Why?” your asked nervously

“Just go there, he just wants to talk to you” he then walked away shooting you a smile afterwards

“He?” both of you exclaimed

“Girl what the fuck is goin~?!” you cut your friend off and went immediately to follow the staff

You left your friend there and just shouted to her to just meet you at the hotel.

You’re so nervous walking towards the staff in front of you as he pointed at the door telling you to go inside.

Stopping in front of the door, heart racing, thinking if you should go inside or not.

Just by looking at the door, you think it is a storage room or whatever. You spent few minutes guessing what or WHO could be inside this room.

Once you got the courage to open the door, you were so shocked from what you see.

There you saw Jake,

manspreading, both arms on the head rest of the couch, staring at you with a smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down while licking his lips.

Wearing his soundcheck outfit earlier!

Your knees started trembling, seeing those gaze he gave you earlier at the stage as you nervously averted your gaze to look around the small room.

But this isn’t the time to be nervous, and so you brushed off your own thoughts and say hi and tell him how he did well.

“Hi Jake, i really enjoyed the concert, i can’t believe you called me i~” you were cutted as you heard him speak by his deep voice with thick accent

“come here” he commands while tapping his thigh

You blinked for a while as you look at him confused

“i said come here” his tone is very commanding and scary

You slowly walk towards him and he immediately grabbed your wrist and draw circles on it using his thumb

“so…” he paused looking at you directly in the eye

“you wanna be layla’s mom” that devilish smirk perked up on his beautiful lips once again

You gulp nervously at the question you knew that this was about the banner

“look Jake im sorry i didn’t mean to make you~” he shush you

“you know how hard it was for me to hide a fucking boner?” he raised his eyebrows at you

“what?” you ask sincerely looking at his bulge

He took your hand once again and guided it to palm his hard cock through his pants.

“JAKE!!” you shouted his name and step back a little bit taken aback from what he did.

GOD IT’S HUGE 😭

He smirked again from your reaction as he let go of your hands and quickly removed his glasses and leather jacket leaving him only with tank top perfectly flexing his biceps and showing his toned chest through the tight material.

You tried not to look at his body but failed anyways

“So” he licked his lips and started placing both of his hands at the back of his head, spreading his legs even more to pull you closer to him.

Youur mouth waters from the sight alone and jake noticed it and smirked again for the hundredth time.

“To be layla’s mom, first you should know how to suck my dick” he looked up to you waiting for your response

Your eyes widened from what you heard.

“WHAT?!!” you’re so confused right now

“can you make me feel good” palming his hard cock through his pants, once again biting his lips, and winking at you. “I want someone who can take care of my cock too, you think you can do that?”

This is guy is so perv but you love it. It’s not all the time that you could suck a dick like jake’s 🤷‍♀️

You don’t know what’s going on with your mind as you nodded to him slowly kneeling down and you put both of your hands on either side of his thighs

“that’s a good girl” he said patting your head as he tucked your hair behind your ears

You can’t really talk right now. All you can think of is HIS cock and the taste of his cum.

Without any hesitation you immediately reached for his pants unzipping it in no time. He lifted his lower body so you could pull down his pants together with his boxers.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, it’s average in length but what shocked you the most is its thickness, it’s fat FAT!

You tried to scan his fat cock a little bit more as you also noticed how veiny it is. Well this isn’t so shocking for you because you see how veiny his hands are.

You can’t help but to lick your lips as you can’t really wait to savour his cock. You’re basically drooling over his cock. “you like what you see baby? why don’t you show me how you like it hmm?”

You wasted no time putting your pretty lips around the tip of his cock

You hummed as you try to please him with only the head

He leaned against the couch and put his hands at the back of his head

HE IS SO HOT! you were so turned on at the sight of him looking down at you with smile, biting his lips and his armpit on full display.

You try to taste every inch of his fat cock starting from the head, you started sucking it like your life depends on it. He guided your hands into his balls implying you to massage it.

He can’t help but buck his hips wanting to hit your throat immediately.

After a few minutes of sucking and licking just the tip you gave it a few more peck while looking at him still looking down at you with a smirk as he caress your cheeks

You tilt your head and work on the base of his cock this time. You gave it a long lick from his balls to the top of its head. You could literally feel in your tongue the bumps of his veins running through his cock. HE TASTES SO GOOD!

“baby i want more, please suck it more” he whined getting boring with your way of pleasuring him.

You got sad cuz you want to take your time, to WORSHIP his cock. But this isn’t about you, so upon hearing his words you’re eager to please him more, to SATISFY him.

You started by spitting on top of his cock as you locked eye contact with him. You saw him nodding at you flashing his eyebrows encouraging you to do more.

You worked your mouth down on his pretty cock reaching the back of your throat in one go earning a few cuss from his him.

“fuck that’s it, so fucking tight and warm ahh..” he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down a little bit more.

He guided you as you bobbed your head up and down aggressively until you choked out loud, causing you to immediately pull his hands off of your head and let go of his cock for a second.

You looked at him with teary eyes, catching your breath, signaling for a pause.

“im sorry baby did i go too hard?” he asked while tracing your lips with the head of his cock STILL smirking.

“just a few more, i know you can take it” he leaned down to lick the corner of your lips where your saliva is dripping and asked “right baby?”

damn he’s so hot and nasty 😵‍💫 but you like it. You like how he’s being rough with you

“please” he says with puppy eyes

and who are you to ignore his cock?

“stick your tongue out for me please”

As the cock slut you are you stuck your tongue out as he placed his heavy cock on top of your tongue rubbing it slowly.

You both stayed like this for a while feeling the heaviness of his cock while he says a few reminders.

“when i cum down this mouth i want you to swallow all of it, understood?” you badly want to make this the best blowjob he will ever get, so you immediately lick the tip of his cock as a response while nodding

“fuck” he hissed at your actions and pulled you out of his cock by your hair and held your chin up

“you can’t wait huh? you really want my cum?” he says slapping his cock against your cheeks

All you can do is to nod at him, your eyes watching how he hits your face with his cock tapping it all over your face harder and harder spreading his pre-cum

He teases you like this for a few seconds as you go after his dick sniffing it and catching it with your mouth

He chuckles while looking at you so desperate looking like a dog going after its toy “Slut!” he slapped it one last time against your cheeks and started patting your head

“good girl, now open up i’ll go hard okay?” he stands up, forcefully gripping your jaw using his one hand and spat on your mouth which you gladly took and swallow like it’s yours.

“god you’re making me crazy” without a warning he shoved his cock all the way in to your throat. You looked at him with teary eyes while he harshly fuck your throat like there’s no tomorrow.

He pulls out for a second to give you a break as he pats your head and caress your cheeks “so good for me, taking me so well”

“please fuck my mouth jakey” you beg

“oh baby i will” you try your best not to choke as he picked up his pace this time. You gripped around his legs as a support as he uses your mouth like a flesh light with every hard thrust letting a sinful moans and grunts from him.

You keep sucking, using your tongue to rub the underside of his dick that's filling up your mouth. He pulls your hair again causing you to moan around his dick and you close your eyes, only to feel a slap on your cheek.

You open your eyes and look up at him to see him looking down at you with a frown, hand still on your jaw. " You're gonna keep looking at me got it?" He said, his thrusts never faltering. You hummed in agreement and his smirk returns.

“ughh fuck this mouth so good for me” he thrusts slowly but deeper this time angling his hips.

“you like this huh? such a good girl for me yeah?” he asked mouth wide open and eyes squinting as pleasure takes over his body.

You stay like that for a few more minutes, unmoving as Jake uses your mouth for his pleasure, swallowing saliva and precum, until you feel his grip in your hair get tighter and his thrusts gets deeper.

“Im close baby, remember what i told you?” he says as his speed increases, the sounds of you choking and gagging bringing his climax ever closer.

You felt him grabbed your head with both of his hands as his thrusts started to get sloppy and shallow indicating for him to reach his climax.

Hearing his sexy moans and gasps made your pussy clench around nothing. So you tried to reach for your pants and work your own orgasm.

Jake is too lost on his mind to even notice how youre trying to pleasure yourself. With that he just continues to punish your pretty little mouth mercilessly.

“ah fuck! fuck! fuck! im cumming, ah” he cried so loud enough for people outside the room to hear

With few more thrust he buried your head against his cock, the tip of your nose hitting his pelvis as he shoot his load to the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks even more getting all the cum out of his cock.

You looked at him head thrown back, furrowed eyebrows, mouth wide open moaning out loud, body twitching, and gasping for air. His face says it all.

You felt his dick twitch one last time as he shots his 6th cumshot in to your throat, some spilling down your mouth.

He thrusts one last time to make sure all of his cum goes down your throat.

“fuck” he fell down the couch sweat all over his face looking at you proudly as you showed him how you eat and swallow all of his load~draining him.

“fuck i came a lot, didn’t I?” he moves closer to your face as he brought his thumb to wipe off the remaining of his cum on your chin and shove it back inside your mouth.

You hummed sucking his thumb while looking at him, your pussy is now forgotten as you came just from tasting his seeds.

“good girl” you’ve lost count on how many times did Jake called you that. It boosts your ego.

You started getting up on your knees, and grabbed your things, and the reality just hits you now. You can’t process what just happened “jake i have to go, thank y~”

You were cut off once again

“wait” you glanced over him as you see him get something from his bag

He walk over you still with his cock hanging between his legs and hand you a piece of paper~with his contact number written on it.

You find him cute on how he just stood there, smiling at you like a puppy as if he didn’t just choked your life out earlier.

He leaned closer to your ear as he grabbed the back of your neck and whispered something to you

“i still don’t know your name, pretty” he said in a flirty and sexy tone making you wet once again.

You were about to say your name when you felt him bit your ears.

“Jake uhmm wait” you tried to stop him as his mouth went its way down to your neck sucking it desperately.

“mhmm jake please” you cried tilting your head to give him more access to your neck

It took a while before jake got his senses back as he stared at the mark on your neck proudly with a smirk.

“so…how do you want me to call you baby” he looked at your eyes

“y/n” you said voice shaking

“what a sexy name” he says with a raspy voice squeezing your ass up pressing your clothed pussy on his once again hard cock

“feel that y/n?” you moaned as you feel his cock against you with your pants the only boundary. At this point, both of you are so hungry and desperate for each other. You follow the rhythm of his body, grinding against him.

He grabed you by your head and started lapping, eating, devouring, the entirety of your mouth almost licking all parts of your face. Making you gasp and open your lips for him. But he doesn’t gave you time to catch your breath as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth feeling him suck on your tongue harshly. You placed both of your hands on his shoulder as you try to kiss him back with the same intensity. You continued for a few more minutes exchanging salivas while still grinding against each other until you heard a knock from the door calling for Jake.

You pulled back from the kiss and saliva dripped down your lips but Jake is too quick to catch it with his own tongue. Licking your chin all the way up to the tip of your nose. He groaned, disappointment evident from his face.

“Damn baby you’re so hot, but i need to go” he said while putting his Calvin Klein underwear back on together with his pants.

“call me by the number i gave you…” he thrusts in to you one last time…

“Im going to MAKE you a mom” he whispers pecking your lips one last time

Leaving you dumb and speechless

Leaving your pussy dripping from your second orgasm

Leaving you wanting for more

Leaving you curious about his last words~

THE END

HI! OMG thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy 🥹

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 2 - He Is Here

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: After Akail freed himself and then you from your captors, you both had only one thing on your mind — to return home where his father and your mate was waiting for you. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.768 Part 1: here Masterlist

⇨ I started making it, tried my best, had a break down, then I listened to Lana Del Rey and my brain started working again. This is the result. I hope I didn't fail your expectations and you like it anyway.

⇨ Also, did you ever actually listen to their clicking/purring noises? Because I DID!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

Fresh air, the rustling of leaves on the surrounding trees, the moonlight, even the hooting of an owl — you never thought you would appreciate these things the way you did right now.

Especially now as your son was holding you tightly in his arms, running away, leaving the facility site behind. You had already put quite a distance between here and there and yet you could still hear the blaring alarm of their security system.

To distract yourself, you focused on the safe embrace of Akail's strong arms, watched the surroundings passing by, and listened to the sounds he made. He tried to calm you down, but since you couldn't understand any of his words, this attempt failed.

The one thing you didn’t want to focus on was the blood.

The alarm went off while you were still stuck in this awful white room with that strange woman, announcing that your son had broken free. Immediately you were yanked out of the room and into the corridor, not caring that moving was difficult for you. The woman had tried to persuade the two men to be more careful, but they just ignored her and didn't stop dragging you roughly with them.

The grip they had on you was painful, the flickering lights and the alarm agitated you even more, and the fact that you didn't know what they were going to do to you, now that an angry alien was on the loose, frightened you.

You thought about the consequences of what you were about to do. Since you couldn't imagine anything worse than what you had already experienced, you just did it. You screamed. You screamed for your son in hopes he would hear you.

One of the men holding you pulled your thrashing body towards him to have a better hold on you, to silence you. You didn't stop fighting and even bit his fingers to stop him from restraining your voice.

You both stopped struggling with each other when suddenly a bloodcurdling roar erupted from behind you.

The small group turned around and encountered the looming figure of Akail. He had found you, like the clever boy he was.

Admittedly, it had been quite a sight. His body trembled with fury, his back arched and his mandibles flared. The armor and equipment that had been taken from him were now back in his possession and on his body. Even from this distance, you could see the blood as if he had bathed in it.

Blood, that was now also on the hideous white suit you were wearing.

Out of fear, and maybe it really just had been a reflex, the man holding you pushed you away.

Luckily — more or less, depending if you were either the big, enraged alien or the tiny, terrified human — you landed on your knees and the hand outstretched trying to catch you, the other hand wrapped around your swollen belly as an instinctive protective mechanism. The impact hurt, but at least your pup remained unharmed.

It had been the wrong thing to do, really. Watching someone hurt you and thus possibly his unborn brother drove him feral. All it took was one tearful look from you and he charged for your captors.

You scrambled to the wall and out of his attack zone. Closing your eyes, you only listened as one by one died in one painful way or another.

You were used to the most obscure, disgusting, and repulsive corpses as you and your mate occasionally went on hunting trips at home. However, the whole situation — from you being captured, the imprisonment, you not knowing what had happened to your son and how he was doing, to the present moment — had pushed you to your limit.

When the helpless pleas and painful screams finally died down, you felt two big hands picking you up. You buried your face into his strong chest, preventing you from catching even a second's glimpse of the bloody masses around you.

It was over, you tried to compose yourself.

Akail was still running, not faltering once. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only — getting you to the safety of your Scout Ship.

Soon you reached a familiar river and a clearing. Your tensed shoulders relaxed when you saw the huge outline of it. The human may have said that they had found the ship, but it was still there where you had left it. Apparently, they had made no move yet to transport it to their base.

You sighed happily. It meant one step closer to home.

Although you were now in safe surroundings, Akail did not put you down and carried you until you reached the belly of the ship where he kept his weapons and gear such as his masks and armor. You smiled up at him when he seated you on top of the huge workbench occupying the middle of the room where he normally repaired or worked on his equipment. The glass surface cooled your adrenaline-heated skin.

Akail exited the room while you settled into a more comfortable position, legs dangling slightly as you looked down at your baby bump and stroked it. You closed your eyes and listened to your inner voice. There was no pain, no other feeling close to discomfort that should worry you. In fact, you felt your sweetling kick against your hand.

You heard the well-known clicks of Akail, announcing you weren’t alone anymore. He was back, holding familiar gadgets in his hands. One of them were two earpieces that translated every spoken word of a Yautja in real-time. They were created especially for you and practically disappeared when you wore them, making your ears appear perfectly normal as if they weren't even there. The other gadget was a tight-fitting necklace made out of black metal with silver accents that translated your words into the Yautja language.

Their technology did wonders. The way both things worked was way beyond your comprehension.

The moment the earpieces were in your ears and the necklace was around your neck, Akail asked, “Mother, how you feeling?”

Thanks to the workbench, you were more or less at eye level so you could put a hand on his cheek, your thumb stroking the scale-like skin, as he nuzzled into it. “I’m fine, my little warrior.” You reassured him.

You felt his clawed hand gently press against your stomach.

You chuckled. “Yes, your little mei’hswei is fine, too.” As if to confirm your words, your pup started to kick against his brother's hand. “See?”

Akail shook his head, the clicking sounds growing urgent.

You sighed. “I promise, as soon as we arrive home I will go to Cahrein. He will survey me to confirm that everything is fine.”

That seemed to soothe him as he nodded. “Good.”

You smiled up at him and cupped his cheeks to pull him closer so you could reach his forehead to place a gentle kiss there. He immediately started making a purring noise. You had to suppress a laugh at that reaction. Instead, the smile on your lips widened.

No matter how many trophies he owned, demonstrating he was a killing machine, no matter that he was the son of a clan leader, no matter that he was Blooded, showing his level of maturity — he was still your little boy who sometimes longed for the comfortable and safe embrace of his mother’s arms.

At this moment, Akail felt like he was set back into the time when he was just a pup. It actually happened every time his mother showered him with affection.

When he was a Youngling, barely reaching your hip, some of the Un-Blooded — all still immature and not yet careful with their words like teenagers in their puberty on Earth — had harassed him about his non-Yautja part even though he was the pure image of his father, no indicator that he was partly human.

Already in his young years, he had developed a need to protect you. As soon as even one of them mentioned either your name or the word ooman, he landed the first punch which had degenerated into a fight which he mostly lost with his smaller size and his little combat experience compared to theirs. He lied to you about how he got the injuries when you tended to them. He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to tell you how those stupid, thoughtless Un-Blooded had disrespected you.

As he grew older and bigger, his father training him hard, the harassment stopped and turned into more friendly, harmless teasing coming from his friends and those with whom he had trained for the initiation hunt. They didn’t dare to treat you any other way than the mate of the Clan Leader deserved to be treated — with respect, obedience, acceptance, and appreciation. You were who you were, but with the things you've done in your years since arriving on Yautja Prime, you'd proven yourself.

From his friends, he had learned that Yautja mothers stopped pampering their pups the second they touched a weapon to train to be hunters.

“Too much coddling and spoiling love made you soft.”

That’s what every Youngling grew up with, but here he was. He was one of the strongest, one of the most determined, and one of the most promising Yautja in his clan, maybe even on his planet. Expectations were high considering who his father was and he would one day be following in his huge (figurative) footsteps, which he hoped to eventually fill.

And all that with a human who never stopped showing him her motherly love since the day he was born.

He was proud you were his mother, thankful, never ashamed. He would never dare to feel any different about you, not when you had stood against all odds to carry him in your belly and fought against death to give birth to him. That made you stronger than any other Yautja mother and he would never think about trading you to be pureblooded.

While his father forged him into a great and powerful fighter, showed him to be strong-willed, hard-working, and brave — the typical journey for Yautja to become hunters and respectable members of a clan — you had taught him mercy, thoughtfulness, and compassion. You tried to teach him at least a few things that were of great value on Earth, things that demonstrated that his mixed genetic heritage made him much more diverse than others.

“I’m going to contact your father to tell him we will be home soon.” You suddenly said.

Akail stepped aside to make room for you to get off the working bench. He offered you a hand when you started to struggle with the height of it and gently helped you to get your feet on the solid metal ground of the ship. While you waddled to your quarters, he turned to the door leading to the cockpit to start the engines and finally get off this damn planet.

The ship was built in such a way that you didn't even feel it take off a few seconds later while you pressed the right buttons to reach your mate. With one hand on your stomach, you turned around and encountered the holographic image of Mi'ytiar being projected into the center of the room by a device built into the ceiling.

You let out a shaky but happy breath. “My love.” You greeted him with a relieved smile as he reached out to place his large hand on the side of your face, the palm on your cheek and his clawed fingers in your hair.

Normally you would lean into his touch, but since that hand was only a projection, you kept your head still to at least give him the illusion that you were standing in front of him.

You wished you were standing in front of him. You longed for him. You missed him so, so much.

You watched his beautiful eyes dart over your face and then to the strange cloth you were wearing, looking for any signs that indicated the blood on it was yours.

“Yawne, what happened?” He demanded, his voice hard but concerned.

You bit your lower lip, already anticipating his reaction.

Mi'ytiar was calm and composed when it came to sticky situations, but his temper quickly overwhelmed him when it came to you. Last time he had challenged an Elder of all people who simply had handled you with more strength than necessary, completely forgetting that humans were far frailer than his kind. It had been merely an accident, but it had turned into a disaster.

So the first thing you wanted to do was to reassure him as you said, “I’m fine.”

His mandibles flared, a hiss escaping his lips. “What happened?”

You sighed. “Humans. They captured Akail.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “They used the control on his arm to find the ship.” You paused for a moment and sighed. “I left it for some fresh air. They found me outside and brought me to the same facility they took our son to.”

Predicting his answer, you forestalled him before he could even open his mouth. “No! Don’t say it.” You hissed.

Mi'ytiar straightened his slightly bent position towards you in surprise. He looked at you with his head cocked to his side, not breaking the intense eye contact.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally relented and lowered his head. The gesture always made you feel powerful. It meant submission; only with you, never others.

Proud of yourself, you squared your shoulders and held your head high.

Sometimes there were small disagreements between you and your mate, but instead of arguing, you both only looked at each other while a silent battle was fought between your gazes. Mi'ytiar always backed down first, secretly loving your dominance, but also cursing your stubbornness.

You were his Life Mate, the human female he treated as his equal. Completely fascinated and smitten by your softness and loving nature, he was wrapped around your finger and would bend to your will. You had a certain power over him and you loved it, knowing that a being like him was capable of acting this way.

“I know I should have listened to you. You told me to stay within the safety of the ship and I should have listened to you. But I didn’t and I put our pup in danger. I’m sorry, tanhì.” You admitted, looking up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Akail?”

“He freed himself and then me.” You answered, before adding in a whisper, “He killed everyone.”

His mandibles clicking, he said, “Good.” before eyeing the suit sullenly.

Mi'ytiar didn’t mind seeing you bloody. In fact, there had been times when the prey the two of you had been hunting together had bled all over you, which had aroused him to the point where he had just grabbed you and fucked you on the forest floor.

But he didn’t like this, not at all. The color wasn’t right. It was too red, too human. The possibility that it could be yours worried him far too much.

But it wasn’t yours. You had told him so and deep down he knew that, but it made him feel unsettled nonetheless.

In the meantime, you watched him and the hardly noticeable change in his eyes. He was very caring, something you loved the most about him, so you planned on putting him at ease when you reached behind you to open the suit. The light fabric slipped down your body and gathered at your feet. You stepped out of it and kicked it away with your foot.

Now you stood in front of him in all your naked glory. Your plan must have worked, because he didn’t hesitate to step forward and engulf your now much more visible stomach with his clawed hand. His infatuation with your pregnant body was beyond you.

Three months into your first pregnancy, a neighboring clan visited yours for feasts and a hunt. There you got to know a woman named Vulpine, the first human you ever met on Yautja Prime. She was soon to be mated with her Yautja who had only recently decided to commit himself fully to her, thus renouncing any sexual or even romantic relationship with other females. That’s how the concept of being Life Mates worked, after all.

You pestered her with questions. Not only how long she had been here, how she was coping with life on this strange planet and who her Yautja was, but also how he treated her in a pregnant state. Turns out, the only Yautja who was that infatuated with his mate being pregnant was Mi'ytiar.

Another thing was that he had been over the moon when you had finally voiced out your wish to carry his pup. He had taken such great care of you during your pregnancy, coddling you, literally hovering over you, not letting you out of his sight.

You had always wondered why he had been acting this way — maybe it was due to the fact that you were human and therefore you and your body were just different — but you never thought it was necessary to actually question him about it.

After a while you said, “We’ll be home soon, my love.”

“Good.” Mi'ytiar replied, nodding. “I will await you.”

And that’s what he did.

As soon as the ship landed, the ramp extended and the door opened, you saw Mi'ytiar standing there, waiting. You didn’t even hesitate to rush to him. He responded by lowering himself to one knee and reaching out to you, catching you when you threw yourself into his arms.

His mandibles clicked happily when he finally could touch you again and feel his unborn pup. He had missed you both so dearly. To be closer to his little one, he made himself even smaller, almost sitting on the floor, and pressed his forehead on your stomach while one hand rested on your hip and the other on the back of your thigh. Purring, he enjoyed the familiar closeness to his sweetling.

You were a mess, bursting with emotions — those goddamn pregnancy hormones — as you ran your fingers through his dreadlocks, felt their warmth and fleshy texture, and played with one of the golden rings Mi'ytiar used to style it, as you liked to call it.

While the two of you were completely engaged with each other, not caring what happened around you, you hadn't noticed how your son had also eventually left the ship to join the both of you.

“Father.” Akail greeted, announcing his presence.

Mi'ytiar lifted his head before pulling away from you to stand up. As was customary for Yautja, he placed a hand on Akail's shoulder in greeting and shook it slightly. Then he grabbed his son’s upper arms with his hands, Akail did the same, and they both put their foreheads together. They stayed like that for a moment before pulling away to talk.

You didn’t feel like you had to listen to them, so you didn’t, but you watched them with a smile. There stood your favorite people in the universe, your family, your whole world.

Soon, Mi'ytiar turned around and made his way back to you. Before you could say anything, he put one arm under your armpits and one under your knees, lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you away, knowing him to Cahrein, the healer.

You liked Cahrein and the feeling was mutual. He was responsible for tending to the wounded and sick, helped the females during their pregnancies and birth, provided ingredients, and maintained tools for the Medicomp when Yautja went on off-world hunts.

He was rather serious and professional, but you could see the curious excitement when Mi'ytiar first had brought you to him. You were a whole different species to him, something new he could learn about.

It was nothing unusual for your mate to accompany you on your check-ups, so Cahrein thankfully didn’t ask any questions, only saying a word when he confirmed what you had already told both, the father and brother of the pup — everything was fine.

That was all Mi'ytiar needed to know before he dragged you away and to your home where he shed you of your clothes and fucked you like a wild animal that was starved of your touch, sating his needs.

It felt like hours had passed when your sweaty and naked body slumped back against Mi'ytiar's torso, exhausted and fully satisfied. Mi'ytiar nuzzled into the hair on the back of your head.

While you were still trying to catch your breath, he regarded the bite mark he had left on your shoulder out of the corner of his eye. The sharp tips of his mandibles had broken into the skin on the front and back of your upper arm, your shoulder blade, and the spot of your chest where your heart was still beating frantically. Meanwhile, his teeth had dug into the edge of your shoulder, making it bleed.

You squirmed in his lap when he licked the dried blood to clean you.

When he was done, he gently took a hold of your hair to put it over your shoulder and out of the way. His eyes fixed on the second bite mark. This one he had placed on the nape of your neck. When he was done cleaning you there too, he chattered happily, proud that he had so evidently marked you as his own.

You tilted your head back to look at him. “What?”

“It never was able with other female.” He said, “Marking.”

You tensed at that before you lowered your head with your lips pressed together. You knew you were acting like a child when he placed his index and middle finger on your cheek to turn your head to look at him, but you stubbornly refused to do so. You even leaned forward to break the skin contact between your back and his torso. You had to bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan as his cock was still inside you, keeping his seed where it belonged. Even in its now soft state, it was still able to send pleasure down your spine.

Although you knew that only some Yautja were permanently bonded to each other and most of them had several mating partners, you had totally forgotten that he, of course, had been with other females before you. In fact, you had never really thought about it. The thought had never occurred to you as he had always been completely devoted to you.

Irrational jealousy took hold of you. Of course, it was completely normal for one’s partner to have been with others before you. That's how it worked on Earth, too. Nothing special, nothing unusual, and yet you hated it.

You had been 26 when Mi'ytiar took you with him. A year earlier you had broken up with a boy you had been dating for two years, and you had a few one-night stands before and after that. You had never cared about their former partners.

Now you did.

“What is it, yawne?”

“Nothing.” You mumbled, your lips twisted into a defiant pout. “It’s just… I never thought about other females having you like this.” You were still facing away from him as you continued, “It makes my blood boil knowing someone else has had you before me.”

A strange possessive feeling surged through you as you turned around to look him straight in the eye. “You are mine, only mine.” You said before turning back around, resulting in you not noticing him almost bursting with pride.

You were lost in your thoughts, completely missing his low, rumbling laugh. He thought you were adorable like this, secretly wallowing in your possessiveness. It made him happy, knowing he was able to elicit such feelings from you.

The next thought you voiced out was one you had back in the days when you still felt unworthy as the Life Mate of the great Mi'ytiar. “It makes me question why you chose me of all people to be bound to you forever and to bear you pups, something I never even thought would be possible. They easily could have given them to you.”

Now that you said it out loud, you realized one thing in horror — pups.

Pups with other females. His pups with other females. His pups with someone that wasn’t you. How did you never think about that too?! He never had mentioned them, not that you knew, but if…

“They could not.” Mi'ytiar interrupted your panicking thoughts.

“What?” You turned your upper body to look at him, his honest eyes looking back.

With his help, you fully turned around in his lap to face him without losing the closest, most intimate connection you both still had; between your legs. He placed his hands on your waist to pull you as close as your stomach would allow.

“I provide for clan in many ways. I am leader. I lead, I protect and I care for them. It is honorable to strengthen clan with pups. Only my seed never took. No female carried my pup. It was shameful to not provide clan with pups. Especially as leader.”

He paused to play with a loose strand of your hair. His fascination with it wasn’t something you couldn’t quite understand, but you didn’t mind.

“When you and I met, you was what I wanted. Objections were made when I dedicated my being to you, but I did not care. I could not provide with pups anyway.” He told you. “I forgot about them. I only wanted you, yawne.”

“I only wanted you, too.” You replied, smiling up at him. “Do you remember when we became Life Mates and you introduced me to a group of females so they could teach me more about the planet, the clan, the dynamics in it, and such? They taught me all the things the mate of a clan leader needed to know.”

One of those had been the mating act. You laughed quietly when you thought back to your reaction as they told you that fighting for submission was something like foreplay to them. First, the male had to succeed before the mating act could start. It certainly explained why Mi'ytiar had been confused the first time you had sex.

The affection and trust you had for him had been finally big enough that you decided to get involved with him in a more intimate way. Until then he had waited for you to give him permission to mate with you. You would never have credited him with such patience, but you hadn’t been the only one who had learned about his kind. While you took your time to get used to your new life, he had also learned about humans.

Not enough apparently because he had looked at you in astonishment like you were broken when you had just let him take off your clothes — clothing that was based on the Yautja style, made of leather, fur and, after a short trip back to Earth, thankfully also soft cotton — and you let him manhandle you.

But you did snap at him when he had been too rough and you had needed more time to get used to this new feeling. After your first time together it was your turn to teach a Yautja about you; about the female body and what it needed before he could ravish you, how he could pleasure it and take care of it.

“One of the females was pregnant at that time.” You continued, “And I wanted that, too. I wanted to carry your pup.”

“And you did, yawne.” Mi'ytiar purred. “Made me so happy when you told me you wanted my pup.” He turned your body to sit sideways on his lap, so he could pull you in with one hand for a cuddle while the other rested on your belly. “You gave what no female could. Proof I am not failure.” He nuzzled into the side of your head. “You are parul, my miracle.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that of course he wasn't a failure, but you closed it again, deciding to let him have his moment. Instead, you put your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer to you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, only his purring filled the air.

continue with the third part He Shan't Lose

[littlejuicebox]

Swollen

Summary: This is another addition to my multi-part Dadstarion series. Tav is heavily pregnant and craving touch from Astarion. He's such a good husband, he happily obliges... but not without making it a bit of a game, of course.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+, daddy kink, pregnancy is mentioned but I wouldn't call it a pregnancy kink... just an acknowledgement of the belly, Astarion has a foot fetish, light edging, light brat-taming, light spanking, Astarion being a tease what is new

Notes: HAPPY DADSTARION DAY! This started as a gift I was writing for @tragedybunny and took far too long for me to complete! Also, hello tumblr. My first posted piece in a while. I've finished moving and hope to get back into the swing of things here. Hope everyone has been well!

Word Count: 4K

-----

Her feet hurt, her back hurts, and she’s incredibly horny. 

The strange contrast isn’t lost upon Tav in the slightest, but the pregnancy hormones have her libido at an all time high. Seven months in with the twins, a stomach stretched almost to its limits, and yet she cannot get enough of her husband. She craves his touch, the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, the sensation of his cock splitting her open. She hears the whispers of encouragement and adoration that push her towards release in her dreams and longs for the moans of his own ecstasy as he follows her into oblivion. 

Tav is, more than ever, addicted to Astarion. Not that he seems to be complaining. 

But unfortunately for Tav, Astarion is still working in his office at this very moment. It’s midday; she has at least a few more hours until there is any opportunity to find her fix. 

After a quick shower and change into her robe, Tav convinces herself that she can be patient. Her feet are swollen, anyway, after her morning in the park with Gale — the three year old is taking a well-earned nap — so she will simply elevate them and wait for the inflammation to go down. After that, dinner preparations and putting their son to bed. And after that— finally— some well earned mommy and daddy time. 

Tav props her legs up on a pillow, closes her eyes for just a moment and… 

She is stirred awake by the feeling of strong hands gripping the soles of her feet. 

When her eyes flutter open, Astarion, appearing before her with the top buttons of his shirt undone, smiles and affectionately squeezes her feet once again. “Everything alright, little love?”

Tav hums a yes and then brushes a few strands of hair from her face as Astarion continues to massage her feet. She moves to prop herself up just slightly, aided by a few pillows behind her back. Her robe spills open, revealing swollen breasts to match her swollen stomach. Astarion blatantly admires the view, eyebrow arching with interest, as she gathers the fabric back together and tightens the belt with a sigh. 

“I must have fallen asleep for a moment,” she says, allowing her eyes to close again as she focuses on Astarion’s hands kneading the flesh of her sore soles. Gods, the magic of this man’s hands— and not a spell in sight. “Is Gale still napping?”

Astarion hums a yes in response. “We stopped early with the ledgers today — it’s Pascal’s wife’s birthday so I told him we would resume tomorrow. I was hoping to catch you two for lunch but by the looks of the kitchen you’d already eaten. So I made a quick bite for myself and then came looking for you.”

Tav groans, imagining the state of the kitchen, which she left in shambles. The maid won’t be back in until Monday morning. “I’ll clean the kitchen later, I just—“ 

“No need, love. I already tidied it. We can leave what remains for tomorrow,” Astarion cuts in before lifting her foot and placing an affectionate kiss on the outer edge. 

“For once in your life, just rest, woman. Would you like me to leave you so that you can go back to sleep?”

She shakes her head and then smiles softly. “No, I’d like for you to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Astarion chuckles, his eyes flickering across Tav’s face and then glimmering with mischief. He glances back down at her chest, now covered, and hums, his head tilting to the side. 

“Which part, darling?” He asks as he begins squeezing and massaging her calf with his long fingers. “This?” 

He continues kneading a few more times before he stops and moves to kiss Tav’s ankle. He lingers for a moment and then trails a few pecks along the side of her foot. She watches as his lips brush against her sole before he takes two toes into his mouth and sucks them lightly. He keeps his eyes trained on her face as his tongue swirls around the digits, causing her to squeal and squirm. Finally, he releases her toes with a sly smile. 

“Or that?”

“Both,” Tav responds, causing Astarion to rumble a chuckle in response. 

“You’re so needy, darling,” he teases, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips, the heat of his breath grazing against her toes. “But very well, if you insist. How could I say no to my very pregnant wife?”

His mouth his back around Tav’s foot in an instant, his tongue teasing against her toes. She gasps in response, her face flushing crimson at the… raw intensity with which he is worshiping her feet and the consistency of his gaze trained upon her face. The slickness growing between her thighs is, frankly, even more embarrassing. He’s done this before, every once and a while, but perhaps with not quite as much vigor. 

Astarion hums when he releases Tav’s toes for a second time, his lips pressing a trail of kisses against her calf as he quickly spreads her legs open. He’s soon on his stomach, his face just in front of her mound, robe expertly undone by one dexterous hand. 

He trails one hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch tingling along her flesh on his way to spread her folds and admire the wetness of her cunt. His mouth hovers not more than an inch away, lips curling up into a smug smile as he views the glistening arousal he’s coaxed from her. His breath brushes against her clit. So close, and yet so far. 

And entirely purposeful. 

Tav attempts to reach down between her own legs and touch herself, to relieve the nagging need at the apex of her trembling thighs. She groans in dismay and drops her hand, gripping the sheet when she realizes the swell of her abdomen is now too large for her to reach her own drenched folds. 

But gods, she needs relief. 

“Astarion,” she huffs, her voice tipping up into a whine as kisses are trailed along her thigh. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood for teasing.”

Astarion lifts his lips to chuckle in delight at her little predicament. His head tips up; she can barely see his eyes, shining with mischief, over the swell of her abdomen. 

“Darling, I usually have to physically restrain you so that you cannot touch yourself while I’m playing with your pretty cunt like this,” he purrs, a silver eyebrow cocked as his eyes lift and drag across her barely-clothed body. “This is a delightful development on my part.” 

“Astarion, I swear, if you don’t—“ Tav interrupts her threats with a strangled moan as two of his fingers easily slide into her walls. Her hips eagerly buck in response. 

“What you were saying, darling?” Astarion asks, cockily, as the flat of his palm presses against her clit. 

Tav is barely able to stifle the wanting cry that begs to escape her lips as she struggles to speak.

“What was that?” He teases again, as his fingers slip in and out of her entrance, the lewd sounds of her slickness filling the bedroom. He removes his fingers and trails them up to her clit, pressing down and rubbing forcefully, causing a shocked whine to shoot from Tav’s mouth. He chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you over all the moaning and whining, love. Did you want something else?”

“No,” Tav finally manages to gasp out through ragged breaths, her hips rolling against Astarion’s fingers as he slides them back inside. 

Astarion hums a contented sound from the back of his throat, entirely pleased with her response. “There’s my good girl. Now, how about you relax and let daddy do all the work, hm?” He asks, his eyes focused on Tav’s arousal dripping itself onto his fingers, beckoning his tongue to taste. 

Tav is left with no choice but to obey the command, and simply nods her head before tossing it backwards as she focuses on the pleasure building between her legs. She moans when Astarion’s lips lock against her flesh and cries out as his tongue slides along her clit. He smirks along her drenched cunt, his tongue lavishing the familiar trails of pleasure that he’s memorized after years of study. 

He takes his time, tracing around her overly sensitive nub in expert circles. He hooks his fingers to stroke along the sensitive spot that makes her toes tingle, grinning when he feels them, strewn over his shoulder and curled up in pleasure against his back. He flicks his tongue in the way he knows she prefers, listening to the muffled cries of pleasure that escape as she attempts to keep her voice down and avoid waking their toddler. He misses the way she used to scream for him. 

But she can still scream for him, can’t she? He’s certain he can make her cry out just the same. 

Astarion licks a final strip against Tav’s clit and then pulls back, his fingers still sunk deep within her, all the way to the third knuckle. He roams his eyes over his little love, up to the curve of her abdomen, stretched taut with the result of their coupling. His heart fills with pride as his free hand moves to rest atop her swollen stomach while his eyes wander and settle upon her face. Her mouth is agape, but there’s no sound coming out apart from a soft gasp or ragged breath every time he slides his fingers in and out of her eager entrance. 

Quite a shame, really. She makes the most beautiful noises when she doesn’t hold back. 

Tav’s eyes open, her face flushed and lids drooping with lust. She’s frustrated, he can tell, by the removal of his tongue. Her lips are dropping into a pout; her only response is a huffy whine. 

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now, now, patience, little love,” he chides, lightly, removing his fingers from the wetness of her folds and licking the slickness from them with a hum, all while ignoring the disappointed groan from Tav. “I’ll give you what you want… you just have to give me what I want first.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “And what is that, exactly?”

He grins playfully and presses himself up to standing. On the way to the door, he unbuttons and shrugs off his shirt. He quickly clicks the lock closed and spins around before lowering his trousers. 

Tav is watching him closely; he makes a show of sliding his bottoms down and freeing his cock. His length is twitching with anticipation, begging to plunge into her depths and spill its seed. And hells, she’s a tempting picture. Almost impossible to resist. The thought alone causes a drop of pre-fluid to bead at the head of his cock; he drops a hand to stroke his length. His mind fills with the urge to stuff Tav full and thrust into her until she is sweaty and dripping with his sticky spend. Until it is leaking from her hole and onto her thighs, spilling into the sheets beneath her. Until she smells only of sex and him. 

But he can wait a while longer, if only to make her just as desperate as he feels. If only to pull those pretty little pleas from her mouth. 

“For a start, use those beautiful hands of yours to cast a silence spell for me, won’t you, my love?”

Tav flushes but obliges, her fingers waving to cast a spell she’s performed hundreds of times before, though perhaps not recently, and certainly not in this context. A shroud of silence surrounds the room, insulating them from anything outside the four walls around them. Astarion smirks as he stalks toward the bed, the corners of his lips pulling up in a vulpine smile, eyes dark with lust but glinting with rougery. Quite like the vampire that used to slip into Tav’s bedroll at night. 

He has Tav right where he wants her, and he knows it. He’s no longer a vampire, of course, but perhaps the animalistic, predatory side of him never truly left. He’d always been one to toy with his food, back then in camp, hadn’t he? 

“Now then, darling,” Astarion purrs as he slides back onto the bed and assumes the position he’d been in moments before, his face nestled between her legs. He smiles smug, fingers spreading her folds, wetness seeping from her entrance. “How about we see if I can still make you scream?”

“You are an arrogant bastard, Astarion An–” Tav huffs, a sharp gasp interrupting her chastisement as Astarion’s tongue presses against her clit. Astarion chuckles in response, the sound causing vibrations to pulse against her sex and she gasps again, her hand instinctively coming to cover her mouth. 

Astarion growls in disapproval, extending his own hand out to yank hers from her face, fingers threading through hers to keep them there. She will scream for him; he will continue his efforts until she does. He presses more insistently into that bundle of nerves, swelling now, the result of his ability to play her body perfectly. Tav bucks and a fresh bit of slickness covers his chin. He dips his head lower, tongue sliding against her slit and down further to lap at the oasis between her legs. 

She always tastes divine. 

His lids flutter closed as he inhales the heady aroma of her arousal and tastes the musky sweetness of her sex. His cock throbs at the familiar combination. He laps eagerly and then returns his attention to her clit, using his free hand to plunge two fingers into her entrance and curl, landing on the spot that makes her cry for him. Tav bucks in response, her hips lifting up and against his face, silently pleading for more.

Silently.

Oh. She’s remaining quiet on purpose, isn’t she?

That won’t do. 

Astarion lifts up and away from Tav, his eyebrow arching in somewhat of a challenge. He unconciously licks at the slickness on his lips as he huffs, “Must you insist on being a brat?”

Tav’s eyebrow lifts in return, her gaze steady as she stares back at him, straining to keep her chest from heaving. “What? You thought this would be easy? That I would be easy? Not the first time you’ve miscalculated, my love.” 

“Really,” Astarion says as his eyes narrow, the hand that had been threaded through Tav’s fingers pulling away. He grips into the plushness of her ass, holding her firmly in place. “Don’t pretend I didn’t have you screaming for me in the Elfsong with nothing more than my tongue, Tav.”

“It’s been so long since then, I can hardly remember— ah—!” 

Astarion laves her clit with renewed vigor, his fingers pumping in and out of her entrance in rapid time. His hand grips into Tav’s flesh, holding her against him and minimizing the movement of her hips. His tongue swirls around and around in steady circles, fingers curled to press back against the spot that makes her gasp with every thrust. He can sense she is holding back, in the trembling of her thighs and the movements of her hands, firmly fisted into the bed sheets. He can also tell she’s not far from reaching her peak.

But far enough. 

He can keep her on the edge, like he used to quite frequently, when the taste of her blood was made better by the taste of her wanton anticipation. Back when he would latch onto her neck and suckle more for comfort than sustenance, keeping himself on the edge just as much as he’d kept her there. 

More, perhaps, in truth. 

Astarion rolls his hips at the thought, stiff cock dragging along silken sheets, and lets out a moan of his own. No longer thirsting for blood, but the memory of the intense, desperate thirst and the feeling of utter satiation still causes his desire to flare. 

Nothing and no one has ever or will ever satisfy him as much as Tav. That much is certain. 

Astarion almost gives in and lets Tav come. Almost gives in to the desire to taste her ecstasy in the only way he can, nowadays. Almost. But just before her thighs are about to clamp around his head, he remembers the game at hand. His pride wins out. He slows his fingers and reduces the pressure from his tongue, grinning when he hears Tav whine. 

“You absolute bastard!” Tav hisses, fist pounding into the mattress. 

He chuckles, fingers lazily dragging in and out of Tav’s entrance as he lifts his head up to once again peer over the swell of her abdomen. His eyes lock onto her exposed chest, tits swollen and stretched, skin glistening with sweat. He licks his lips; he can taste nothing but her. He trails his gaze upward, to the sharp, narrowed eyes glaring down at him and smirks as he slowly lifts himself onto his knees. 

“Is that really any way to speak to the father of your children, my love?”

“Is this really any way to treat the mother of your children, darling?”

Astarion pouts, a fake jut of his lower lip before his expression pulls up into a smile, just a bit arrogant, but mostly sweet. “You know what I want, darling. Stop being stubborn. Just give it to me, and I will give you what you want, hm?” 

“You’re going to have to try harder, then, Astarion,” Tav responds, her eyebrow arching again. She lifts her chin in another bit of a challenge. “Or perhaps you just aren’t as skilled as you once were, hm?”

Astarion’s eyes flash something fierce. “Now, now, darling. I know you don’t mean that. Take it back.”

“Make me,” she replies, the challenge a clear invitation as her face flushes in anticipation, eyes shimmering with desire. 

Oh, so that is how it’s going to be, then. 

He’d been much gentler with Tav, in her first pregnancy, far too unsure about the safety of such activities. But this time around, and after much assurance from both Tav and Shadowheart, Astarion has grown quite used to being a bit more… typical in his activities with his wife. He’s rolling her onto her stomach in an instant, pillows dragged lower to cradle her abdomen, fingers digging into her thighs. 

“Is this what you want, darling? For me to take you from behind and make you scream for me?” he growls, skin flushing hot as he tempts himself with the same words he’s using on Tav. His engorged cock is begging for attention. 

But not yet. 

Not until she gives him what he wants. 

Let it be soon.

“Yes,” Tav responds, voice raspy, no longer able to keep still as her desire takes over. She presses herself back against Astarion, the length of his cock sliding temptingly along her folds. 

“Beg, then,” Astarion demands, one hand trailing up her thigh to sit on the curve of her ass. He lifts his hand and smacks down, reveling in the sound of Tav’s delighted keen. But after that, further fucking silence. Tav continues to roll back against him, trying to tempt him into giving her what she wants. 

Naughty thing. 

He smacks the side of her ass again, harder this time, ripping a startled moan from her throat. His cock begins to leak pre-fluid at the sound of her voice mixed with the rocking of her hips. He’s becoming quite desperate, himself, his ears turning hot, cock throbbing, heart thudding in anticipation. 

Perhaps a bit more enticement, then. 

He presses the tip of his cock forward, almost losing control and thrusting to the hilt when he feels the warm suction of her walls. Tav whines when he pulls away and then holds steady, just pressing the tip of himself into her with barely-there thrusts. He purrs, “Won’t you beg for me, darling? Three little words, that’s all it takes.”

A moment of silence. He trails his fingers across her flesh, over the curve of her ass, up the side of her spine, igniting goosebumps in his wake. He rolls his hips languidly, his cock just filling the very entrance of her hole with each pass. 

And then finally. 

Finally. 

“Please fuck me.”

The plea comes out muffled, Tav’s face pressed into the sheets beneath them. Astarion’s cock jumps. He uses the last of his willpower to pull his tip from Tav and slide instead along her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. He’s won. And yet, he cannot resist the urge to tease her just a bit further. 

“Mm… what was that, dear? I can’t quite hear you past the pillow.”

Tav lifts and turns her head, her eyes wide and desperate. Face flushed red, sweat glistening down her cheeks. She murmurs her second plea, almost a whine, nearly breathless, “Please fuck me… daddy.”

His cock aches. 

Oh, she knows exactly what she is doing. Little devil. 

Without another word Astarion slams himself into her entrance, immediately taking her to the hilt. Tav’s head rears back as she moans, loudly, at the sensation of being filled. Astarion’s length throbs and threatens to spill on impact. He watches Tav, her eyes still turned toward him as she begins to press back into him again. 

“So very eager, aren’t you, love?” he asks, as his hips begin to roll in time with her movements. Before long, he is picking up the pace and she is following. Her walls clench around him in a steady rhythm. His arm wraps around her waist — not a particularly easy feat nowadays — fingers searching for her clit. He finds the nub and begins working it insistently; Tav emits high keens as he rubs his fingers into her clit. “Do you want to come, darling?”

Tav whines when Astarion thrusts into her quite sharply, hips canting at a near-supernatural pace. The plushness of her ass bounces with each thrust, cushioning the impact of his harsh movements. “Yes!”

“Then won’t you come for me?” Astarion coaxes in a coo, groaning as he feels Tav clench and pulse around him, signaling her imminent release. He adjusts his hips just slightly, aiming for the spot inside her walls that makes her come undone, and knowing he’s found it when she lets out a sound that is something of a whining scream. He grins. “There we go… let me hear you, my sweet.”

Another roll of his hips and Tav is gone, her head tossing back as she braces herself on all fours, no longer able to match Astarion’s movements. Her cunt wraps around him eagerly, pulsing against the engorged length of his cock. She reaches a near-whistling shriek midway through her orgasm and the sound quickly causes Astarion’s resolve to shatter. He utters some sort of incoherent praise as his cock swells and then twitches while he loses himself inside her greedy walls. 

He needed this. She needed this. It had been far too long. 

The two are bound together, each riding the aftershocks of release. Both heaving with exertion and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Finally, Astarion runs a hand up to Tav’s waist, settling gently. “Everything alright, my love?”

Tav nods her response and then groans, chuckling softly. “I think… I think I’m going to need help rolling back over, Astarion.” 

Astarion laughs as he removes himself from Tav, arms moving to support her as she rolls onto her back with a labored huff. She ends the Silence spell with a lazy wave of her hand and yawns. Her eyes flutter closed as a hand trails down to her abdomen and rests upon her bump.

“I’ll need you to start making use of that spell more often, darling,” Astarion murmurs as he presses a kiss into her forehead with a smile. His poor little love is already drifting back into the nap he’d pulled her from. 

“Mmm…” she agrees, already half asleep, her other hand instinctively searching for his. He laces their fingers together as he lays down beside her, pulling the covers over them both, intent on joining her for a nap. Best to get their rest while they both can. 

In a few more weeks, sleep will be nothing but a memory. 

[alibabe48]

A storm had come through and as often happens afterwards, there was no power. We always had extra batteries on hand but recently someone had very badly wiped out our supply. You surprised me by asking me to go down to the country store to get batteries; saying that you had to take care of something at the house. “I promise you will be fine” you told me and therefore I knew it to be true. You said you were going to ride out to the back pasture to check on something and you would meet me back at the house later and as always to just let you know when I got there safely. I didn’t think twice as I got in the car and drove down the dark mountain. There are very few streetlights on this road on any given night but because I’ve driven it so many times, I know the road and all its twists and curves like the back of my hand.

The whole way down I didn’t see another car. Pretty typical actually even without a storm. Arriving on the deserted main highway, I drove less than a mile to the small gas station that has a store to get batteries. It was only supper time but because of the storm, it was dark as 9:30 at night outside. Normally you might see one or two cars or even a few trucks. It really depended on the time of day. Come August the largest yard sale in the country is set up all along this very highway for over 600 miles-from Georgia to Kentucky all the way up to Michigan. It’s definitely a sight to see. But tonight there were no cars because most people had heeded the warnings and stayed home or got home early. This is tornado country, I pull up to the station and it’s also dark outside. The signs out front were not lit up but there was a little light flickering inside and I could see a figure in there. I assumed it was the store owner, forgetting rule number one-never assume anything.

In I marched to complete my task and was greeted by a man who stood behind the counter with his back to me. He wore dark coveralls and a hoodie and looked like a mechanic, which fit what I’d seen there before many times as I sauntered down on a Sunday morning for coffee or once in a while for an espresso shot; don’t ask…in the daylight or when lit up at night. He wasn’t the least bit intimidating to me. The man mumbled “May I help you ma’am?” I asked for batteries and was directed to the back of the store. “Against the wall in the way back” he said and I slowly made my way down the aisle to the back of the store. I was wearing my usual attire-some skin tight yoga clothes and tennis shoes and I walked slowly along the back scanning the shelves for the batteries I needed. I did not notice you waiting for me as you made your way back to the front. All of a sudden you grabbed me and pulled me into an empty office. My hands were quickly tied behind me and then you said a word that ensured I knew it was you. The next thing I knew my top was being pulled up and you began fondling my breasts and nipples. I began squirming and making terrified noises so I was pushed over the desk, my yoga tights pulled down, thong ripped off, and with the other hand you were fumbling with your jeans and starting to cover my mouth as you slowly pushed inside me.

I groaned at the intrusion at first but soon you were thrusting deep

in and out and then I heard myself moaning. Your grunts and howls turned me on and soon we were both rutting hard and then we quickly orgasmed together. You untied me and we kissed and made out while I continued to tease you, getting you hard again. Being forced to my knees and sticking your cock in my mouth I then gave you one of my signature blowjobs. You have always said I was the queen of blowjobs and you taught me everything I know. Then feeling you were getting close, you sat back in the chair and told me to climb on top and ride you while you pinched and sucked on my nipples... till we both orgasmed again.

Laying there in a post-coital bliss, I was so content and still slightly confused as to how you pulled this one off. Your imagination knows no bounds. As I stood to get some feeling back in my legs, I realized that someone could walk in any minute. “Where is the store owner?!” I asked. “And how did you set this up?!” As usual you just looked me deep in the eyes, smiling and said “A good master never reveals all his secrets” We both laughed and you sent me home full of cum leaking down my thighs with the batteries in my hand telling me you’d be right behind me. Another new experience in this life. Now I can add CNC to the yes please list. Ali 🕉️ ©️8/14/24 all rights reserved

Story starter and collaboration with @his-thoughts99 .

[conflictofthemind]

Montauk, The Project Rainbow, and Experiments in Time

It’s fairly common knowledge that Stranger Things is based on Montauk. The unfortunate part is that Montauk has been attributed to another ‘vaguely MK-ULTRA mind control related side project’ and not the big narrative that it is, with details incredibly close to plot points in Stranger Things that resulted in an attempted lawsuit years back. Montauk does not just set the general ‘spooky scientific experiments on kids’ tone for ST - it is the backbone of the whole lore. 

‘The Montauk Project’ Book / Conspiracy explained simply is that the US government unofficially experimented on humans with ‘great psychic ability’ to allow their psychic brain waves to interact with the normal electromagnetic waves of our world. The end goal being manifesting thoughts into reality, and opening up wormholes in time. This would give the military great advantage and potentially control over the outcomes of war. It then turns out the whole narrative of Montauk occurs within a time loop from 1943-1983, when the disappearance of a ship called the USS Eldridge opened up a wormhole which was connected with by a research subject in 1983. The time loop is self-causing - the entire reason the Montauk experiments take place are to further study the events that occurred on this ship, but part of the reason the ship disappears is because of the Montauk Project. Due to all of the other time travel references within the series - trust, we will get into those - this leads me to believe it’s very unlikely there isn’t time travel / a time loop involved. Here I hope to posit the basic information about Montauk/The Philadelphia Project, how the powers work within ST, Will’s clear involvement in all of it, and the time travel element. 

Ahahaha why does that look like a bowl-cut…

Let’s put this out of the way first: the idea that Montauk/Philadelphia is the direct inspiration for the show is not based on flimsy grounds. The original series the Duffers planned to make was going to be an actual retelling of Duncan Cameron’s (think El and Henry - main research subject of Montauk) story. This was later changed to become the story we know today with the characters we know today, although with different names and the title remaining Montauk. Some of the characters had names from Montauk too… like Mr. Clarke being Mr. Nichols. I’ll save that for a later post. The entire design of HNL is based off of the ‘Camp Hero’ / Montauk lab with the iconic banana-shaped radar disk. El’s Void ability comes from the ‘Seeing Eye’ power Duncan has in Montauk, where focusing on a personal item belonging to a person lets him see into their mind. The research subjects’ power is amplified by white noise and a sensory deprivation chamber - again, seen with El. 

The Rainbow Ship and the Electromagnetic Connection:

The Electromagnetic Spectrum is usually mentioned at least a little in every season. Joyce’s magnets falling off, El needing the radio, etc. Lights are another focus, with the kids in the Rainbow Room being tested on how they can manipulate lightbulbs, and the emphasis on lights flickering whenever powerful forces are being used or the Upside Down is interfering with Hawkins. I expect them to really start pushing it in Season 5, and we can already see evidence of this (below: the WSQK Squawk Van). They’re at a radio station, the Middle School kids are learning about light from Scott Clarke most likely, and you can see the abundance of rainbows everywhere. It’s my opinion that rainbows and light are the mechanism in which these gates open, and also when at high enough power, how time can become warped. ‘Project Rainbow’ is another title basically interchangeable with the USS Eldridge and Philadelphia Project. This was because “the mechanism involved was the generation of an incredibly intense magnetic field around the ship, which would cause refraction or bending of light or radar waves around the ship”. However as we remember, this had the unintended effect of teleporting the ship across space-time. In the ST Universe, this results in the Eldridge being teleported to Dimension X temporarily (without a gate being opened).

The eagle shoots out beams of a rainbow which are meant to represent the radio waves being broadcast. 

It’s a commonly asked question as to how Will ‘blinked’ out of that shed without a gate, considering only El was able to open them at that time. The close-up on the lightbulb is the last shot we see before he just vanishes. It’s not just powers interfering with the surrounding electricity; this bending of light is what took him to the UD. But when this happens, it doesn’t result in a gate. I also believe this will end up being the mechanism for the eventual time-travel plot we’ll be seeing. Again in Montauk, there is a ‘time-tunnel’ made between the Eldridge and 1983 Montauk that was caused by the disappearance. My original post investigating this was me hypothesizing that being able to bend light to travel faster than it could result in temporary anomalies that allow one to time travel. 

Anyway, back to the rainbows. Rainbows are one of the most common recurring symbols in Stranger Things. The Rainbow Room exists of course, and there’s a deliberate costuming choice, especially in later seasons with the brighter atmosphere, to have characters wearing rainbow patterned items. Holly’s room is full of rainbows, and there are multiple rainbow props scattered around other locations (Mike’s basement, Erica’s room, etc). Scott Clarke (seriously what is up with him) is introduced in Season 1 doing a lesson on ROYGBIV. The BTS pictures of S5 Hawkins Middle School have him teaching yet another lesson on the visible light spectrum. And space for some reason. This brings us back to the Rainbow Ship.  Now we know the USS Eldridge is a marine ship, not a spaceship. But for the characters who seem to have some connection to it, it is represented as one regardless.

Will drew something representing the USS Eldridge (which it is mentioned was not from a movie i.e. he came up with it using his own memory and mind). The main fixture of Henry’s playground, where a ‘significant’ memory took place also features this representation of the Eldridge. I suspect there might also be a larger reason it took the form of a spaceship, but for now, consider that the ST Universe’s version of aliens are the Demogorgons. And outer space is Dimension X. The ship ‘flew’ to ‘outer space’ (D-X) and encountered ‘aliens’. In Montauk, that is kind of what happens. It’s more metaphorical in Stranger Things. The comic book Henry is obsessed with in TFS is seemingly changed from the real life Captain Midnight who was an airplane pilot, to be an astronaut. I think there is some kind of “alien abduction” theme with both Henry and Will being suddenly transported to another dimension that is alien in itself. Even when the lab scientists enter the UD in the first few seasons, they use hazmat suits that are deliberately similar looking to spacesuits. Stranger Things is a story about UFOs and aliens that also isn’t exactly about UFOs and aliens. 

And then, I’ll mention the weirdest part of this all - Will knows about the Eldridge somehow. And he knew about it before he was ever kidnapped and attached to the hive-mind. 

This is either possible because 1) he was in fact involved in research projects at HNL, and maybe the Project Indigo before the age of 8 like the original “rainbowshipgate” suggests. Or 2), there is an element messing with time in this situation, just like in the original Montauk book series. Montauk is literally named ‘Experiments in Time’. They’ve nabbed Linda Hamilton from Terminator (a movie about time travel) for this final season. They’re referencing a Wrinkle in Time with the Episode 6 title and Holly plot. Then we have everything else involving Henry’s clock theming that hasn’t exactly explained itself yet. Thinking time travel is a far-fetched idea at this point is a bit ridiculous. 

It really depends on how crazy they go with the whole concept. One of the other main characters from Montauk I haven’t mentioned yet is Al Bielek. Al Bielek was the original “whistleblower” who came forward with his story after supposedly recovering his repressed memories of the events. He claims to have been on the crew of the USS Eldridge in a previous life as Edward Cameron, Duncan Cameron’s brother. When he was sent forward in time he ended up staying in 1983 whereas Duncan Cameron was effectively sent back to where he came. Very confusing. But the story is, the man’s a time traveler. 

I do wonder if Al Bielek is loosely the inspiration for Will’s part in the story. Will who has seemingly repressed memories of many points in his life and has been suggested to be a time traveler many times. His name appears on the grandfather clock. He wears Marty McFly’s outfit in the first season. He has knowledge of an event that happened in 1943. He has lines about “seeing into the future” and Mike calls him a time-traveler in the VR Game where the writing staff had access to scripts and a writer from the show. The Upside Down is stuck on “the day of Will’s disappearance” (in the Duffers’ words), though that one probably has a slightly simpler explanation. 

The exact mechanics of how that would work are unclear. Right now, as young as an eight year old Will needs to have the knowledge of the Eldridge - so this isn’t something he will only end up connecting with this season. My theory is that there is a time loop involved, and Will’s actions in the future of Season 5 have him interfere in some way with the 1943 Philadelphia Project / Project Rainbow. The time loop is cyclical and self-causing. Our Will Byers already has a past iteration in yet another timeline where he already went back and tried to interfere with the past (and likely died trying in 1943). Then he is reborn again in 1971, and awakes a very small portion of his past memories of the previous loops. If that doesn’t make sense, I created this handy-but-ugly flowchart to help you out: 

Basically there is no beginning, since the future causes the past and vice versa (a bootstrap paradox). Every Will would then have memories of a past self(selves). The time loop also gets more complicated than this. Did Henry create the mindflayer? It’s presented like that within the show, but let me remind you that shows with heavy mystery elements can and will purposely deceive you. In the First Shadow, Mr. Newby is attacked by the Mindflayer and produces a drawing of the entity - it’s purposely not shown to the audience, but considering the Mindflayer was supposedly just a black mass then why is that? And regardless, in order to have Henry become possessed by it, the Mindflayer was definitely not created by him in 1979. A few have written up theories about this already, I’ll link to my friend's two posts on this element of the time loop.  

I don't have anything else super definitive yet. But I believe wholeheartedly that this is the right direction to search in and I hope we can put more attention on the subject. All of this makes sense, from the military connections they keep pushing in the show, the time travel hints we have been getting, the origin story of Brenner (whose dad died aboard the ship) and the Rainbow Room, everything ties back to the Eldridge events being incredibly incredibly important going forward.

Here's a link where you can read through Montauk Experiments in Time for free.

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Alastor x Reader

Light Smut

Here's the story behind my post about Alastor's dexterous skills with his cane, which really turns the reader on.

Link to the post:

Warnings: There are mentions of oral sex and fingering; the reader character has a vagina.

The plot isn't very... plot-heavy? It might be a little poorly written, to be honest.

It's mostly just a very horny reader, with a bit of a spicy ending.

Alastor might be a little out of character.

I still hope you enjoy reading it! :)

It's been a boring day at the Hazbin Hotel. You have finally managed to get out of bed after a long time, washed up, put on some clothes and are now leaving your room to go to the lobby. You actually like autumn, but you have to admit that this time of year always makes you feel a little sluggish.

You wonder if this time of year has the same effect on other souls.

Maybe Angel has some interesting news about some sinners you can gossip about. Or maybe Husk will make you that good tea again that only he can make.

You stride down the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for your friends to make sure they are here to save your boring day.

But instead of your friends, you see him: the radio demon.

Goosebumps of fear spread over your body - he has a cold and sinister aura - and at the same time that cosy, warm feeling rises in your chest that you always get when you see this elegant man in his red coat, which hugs a tall, slim body and makes a secret of what exactly is hidden underneath, but still reveals enough to know that revealing this secret is definitely worthwhile.

Your gaze falls on his feet, which are hidden in elegant oxfords with a discreet heel. Then your eyes travel up his body, which stands upright in a distinguished posture with both hands on the handle of his microphone cane. Over his dark trousers, which emphasise his long legs, then to his shirt, which he never tucks into his trousers, but you have often noticed that he wears a leather belt that fits perfectly with the overall look.

Sometimes, when you are lying in bed at night, you are overcome with fantasy and with it the strong desire to be allowed to help yourself to this belt just once.

On these nights, you imagine him sitting in his armchair in front of the fireplace in his room, lit by the flickering, warm fire that creates a warm atmosphere with its crackling. You imagine yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him, between his legs, while he holds the glowing green chain that binds your soul to him forever and looks at you expectantly after ordering you to open his trousers to satisfy him with your beautiful mouth.

You're almost at the foot of the stairs and you still can't stop staring at Alastor. Now you're looking at the strands of his hair, which rest very neatly in a bob cut almost on his shoulders, framing his handsome face, which is also adorned with his wonderful, captivating eyes that look like glowing rubies.

Oh, damn, you fancy this demon!

And you hate the fact that he seems so unapproachable. Like a mystery that doesn't want to be seen through.

As you start to enjoy his cute antlers sticking out of his fiery red mop of hair, your enjoyment is interrupted when you realise that he has a guest standing in front of him and talking to him. And this guest is none other than Mimzy.

She's been dropping by the hotel a lot these days to visit Alastor.

You can't stand her. She exudes an unpleasant aura towards you.

You know that she doesn't like you either. But you don't know why that is.

The reason is that she can't stand the fact that you have a high status with Alastor - which you don't know either. And he probably doesn't either.

But Mimzy recognises it. The way he looks at you and how his usually bitter smile turns into a warm expression as soon as you're near him. How his pupils dilate when you talk to him. And he talks about you a lot. Almost all the time, in fact.

How Mimzy wished she could have been looked at like that by Alastor when she was alive. But she could go to great lengths to make her way into his otherwise dark heart, but she never made it. He successfully stopped her. Time and time again.

And now that place in his cold, dead heart is occupied. This powerful, self-absorbed jerk has let you in there without you realising it.

"Ah, good day, my dear. It's a real pleasure to finally see you among the more lively characters in this hotel" Alastor greets you with genuine joy, which Mimzy only comments on with a discontented grumble.

"Hi" you reply shyly and immediately head for the lobby sofa, which is a little further away from the bar where the two twenties chatterboxes are standing.

But the radio demon doesn't find your aloof attitude particularly pleasant. When you sit down on the sofa, he asks: "Why don't you join us, y/n? It would be a pleasure to pour you a drink and enjoy a nice chat with you."

Your gaze wanders to Mimzy, who seems rather unhappy about her friend's invitation. That alone is reason enough for you to approach them with a provocative grin and join in their conversation.

Angel and Husk aren't here anyway and maybe the two flappers will manage to get you out of your boredom.

But you realise now that you've made a mistake.

Firstly, there is Alastor's immediate proximity. His scent has such a beguiling effect on you that you feel as if you've been catapulted into another dimension.

The arousal in your body increases, you feel the moisture spreading between your legs and soaking your panties with this warm, clear juice.

You try very hard to listen to Alastor, but it seems almost impossible.

And then comes the final signal that you can forget any attempt to concentrate on this conversation when you suddenly notice his hand skilfully twirling the microphone cane between his fingers.

You watch these movements intently and are impressed by his skill.

You've often noticed that he spins his walking stick between his fingers from time to time, but it's only at this moment that you realise how incredibly good he is at it.

You don't take your eyes off his hand. Impressed by the skill of his nimble fingers, you dive into your fantasy world in which you imagine that the radio demon is pleasuring you with these fingers.

That he pushes them inside you and explores every single spot of your wet temple until he finds the one that really excites you.

Meanwhile, he rubs your clitoris with his thumb to drive you to absolute ecstasy.

You imagine him looking deep into your eyes and repeatedly mentioning how beautiful he thinks you are while he drives you crazy with his dexterity in your dripping wet, delicious pussy.

Your whole body tenses up at the thought, your loins burn with desire for this man and your desire to be satisfied by him grows stronger and stronger.

You want nothing more than to belong to him for just one night, and you would even make the dirtiest, most sinful deal with him.

"Hey, he asked you a question, bitch!" Mimzy yells at you and snaps you out of your forbidden daydream.

You look at his annoyed face, then at Alastor, who looks at you in a patronising, expectant way.

"Would you come with me to Cannibal Town later, my dear? I'd like to go for a walk in the park and wouldn't mind your company."

You turn bright red and almost compete with the radio demon's coat.

"I..." you stammer, embarrassed. You can feel Alastor and Mimzy's eyes on you and it feels as if they have read your thoughts and seen this naughty film in your head.

"Excuse me. I have to go" you say suddenly and immediately turn round and hurry back up the stairs to your room.

When you get there, you close the door loudly behind you, lean against it and, completely out of breath, you try to calm down from everything that has just happened.

You wait.

And wait.

Until your breathing gradually settles down again.

When you realise that you can breathe normally again, you sink to the floor, your knees pulled up close to your body, your arms folded on your knees and your head buried in them.

That was probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.

Fuck!

Why did that even have to happen?

Suddenly you are torn from your stream of thought when there is a knock on the door behind you.

The knock sounds like the hand of a strong man. It sounds firm and authoritative. The sound of the knock alone tells you who is on the other side of the door.

You roll your eyes in despair - why did he have to follow you now?

You quickly get up from the floor, smooth out your clothes and hair to bring some order back to your rumpled appearance and then open the door.

The radio demon smiles down at you and before you can even think about inviting him in, he confidently and naturally makes his way past you into your room. As he stops in the room, he turns round on the heel of his shoe in an elegant turn towards you, stops in front of you in an upright, distinguished posture and places his hands on the handle of his walking stick.

You close the door.

"Hello, my dear" he greets you with a certain irony in his voice, which is accompanied by a radio filter.

You look at him with narrowed eyes. You mistrust him in a way, especially when he grins at you with his arrogant manner, as he is doing at this moment.

You don't say anything. You don't have to, because it's Alastor who keeps talking as he crosses his arms behind his back with his walking stick and starts pacing around your room, looking around as if he's looking for something that will tell him more about you: "You're probably wondering why I'm here. Well, that's a very good question, after you removed yourself from our conversation rather quickly."

He casts a scrutinising glance over his shoulder at you to see your reaction.

You look to the side, embarrassed.

What should you say when he asks you why you suddenly left?

He approaches you and infiltrates your personal space. He gets so close to you that you can almost feel his breath on your face as he bores his gaze into yours to force the truth.

But you try to avoid the truth for now by stammering, suppressing your heavy breathing with excitement: "I... I was expecting an important call."

Slowly, Alastor steps closer to you and pushes you backwards. He sighs in disappointment and shakes his head in judgement. Then he says, "Y/n, you should know that I don't like being lied to at all."

You are stopped by a wall and are forced to stand still while the radio demon stands directly in front of you, barely leaving any space between you and pinning you to the wall.

Your heart beats ever more wildly against your chest. Partly from fear. Partly from excitement.

You breathe in his beguiling scent as he looks at you insistently.

His gaze seems dark, his smile sinister and then he asks something you wish he'd never asked: "Why were you staring at me like that earlier, hm? Do you think I don't recognise a woman's lustful gaze when it's directed at me?"

Your cheeks flush heavily and you feel the moisture spreading through your lower region again.

You can't help but find this moment more erotic than scary.

You avert your eyes from him in an attempt to hide your shame.

But what's wrong with him? Since when has he been like this?

"Nuh-uh-uh. Don't be shy, my dear."

Suddenly he lets go of you.

He takes a little distance from you and with a meaningful grin - his eyes still fixed on you - he raises his walking stick with one hand, the other behind his back, while he stands in a distinguished posture.

And then he starts twirling the cane.

You look at his hand. At his fingers. You watch these talented movements closely and you don't realise that you are biting your lower lip suggestively as you involuntarily imagine these gifted fingers moving inside you.

"From the first time I saw the wicked look on your face, I immediately realised why you are so taken with the way I twirl my cane. And that's exactly why I always do it whenever you're near me" he murmurs in a dark voice.

Excuse me?

Your eyes widen in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, as if you want to say something back, but you are completely lost for words.

He brings his hand to your cheek, brushes a few strands of hair from your face with his thumb and now you can feel his excited breath as it caresses your delicate skin.

"I'm enjoying seeing how much you want me, sweetheart" he says with a static rush of pleasure.

"Go on, say it!" he suddenly commands you and you understand exactly what he wants from you. With trembling lips, you breathe a shy but lustful "I... I want you, Alastor" as you savour his touch on your cheek.

You reach for his hand, bring it to your mouth, close your eyes and spread a few kisses on his palm while breathing excitedly.

Suddenly, the radio demon tears himself away from you to place his hand on the back of your neck, pull you towards him and press an intimate, sensitive and hot kiss to your lips.

Your tongues dance together as if they have always longed to do so, his bittersweet saliva mingles with yours and you love the taste of it spreading through your mouth. Sometimes you feel his razor-sharp teeth running dangerously but carefully over the sensitive skin of your lower lip, hinting at slight bites of desire.

Then you pause to look into each other's eyes. When you open your eyes, you see that his antlers have grown larger.

He gently strokes your head and cheek and then runs his thumb over your lower lip.

"Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours when you watch me" he says in his radio filter voice.

You gather all your courage - your strong desire for him helps you a lot - and you reply in a low voice: "I... I want you to finger me."

A dark chuckle comes from Alastor and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a cheeky and triumphant grin.

Then he speaks: "Uh-huh! So that's what you are. It's not like you to hide such sinful thoughts behind that innocent-looking soul. But it seems to me that this season is turning us both into wayward sinners."

Suddenly he grabs you, spins you around, pushes you across the room and then gives you a shove so that you land on the bed with a swing.

Immediately afterwards, he climbs onto the bed with you, bends over you and soon you can feel his hand moving down your body to tug at your trousers. Goose bumps spread under the beads of sweat from your sexual energy.

"Now then. Your wish is my command, darling" he whispers to you with a satisfied and lustful smile.

Joy spreads through you, you smile back as you wrap your arms around him and pull him towards you for another deep kiss.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Cable/AFAB!Reader

Alright! Last time this one will be posted lol. Thanks everyone for being patient with me, I know Cable isn't exactly a fan favorite compared to the other characters I write for on this blog, so I appreciate everyone being cool while I've been finishing this :) If you'd rather read the SFW version, You can find it here :) also, This fic has come callbacks to the previous cable fics I've written, So I'd recommend you read/Reread that one first! TWS: MDNI!!! Jealousy, creepy men, we choose the bear and the bear is Cable. Slight miscommunication, but healthy talks happen. PNV sex, fingering, dirty talk. Usage of pet name "pretty girl". Raw sex, wrap it bf u tap it guys.

    The bar is busier tonight than you’ve ever seen it. It’s humid, stuffy, and overly loud with all the warm bodies packed into the small space. You’ve never been one for crowds, but you know for a fact that Cable is certainly not a people person.

    The two of you had been crammed into a corner booth for about an hour and a half, originally having come to the bar to meet a contact that never ended up showing. Normally, the two of you would have gone home by now. It was your idea to stay and get something to eat, wanting to at least make some good with the newfound downtime. 

    You were comforted by the feeling of Cable’s keen gaze keeping an eye on you as you wove through the crowd, finding your way to the bar. You hold back a smile as you sit down, ordering some drinks for the two of you as you wait on the food. Eventually, you glance back at Cable and find him still staring at you, making eye contact as you send him a smile. You’re not surprised, but you raise a playful eyebrow at him. Cable, ever the protective grump, rolls his eyes at you in response, but you still spot the small smile he gives you when you send him a wink.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts. 

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and was getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately try to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable is ignoring the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

    “Ohhkay. Yeah, let’s go.” You tug on Cable's arm, practically dragging him away at first. You weren’t worried about the drunk, that guy sure as hell wasn’t getting up any time soon. To be honest, you were more concerned with the fact that you could never meet someone in this bar discreetly ever again. Yay. 

    The drive back to today’s apartment is silent, and you’re thinking too much about Cable, honestly. He’s not necessarily talkative himself, arms crossed in the passenger seat as he looks out the window. You send a nervous glance his way. You had called him your husband, and although it felt right in the moment as you tried to get another man off your back, you didn’t think that Cable would actually hear you. And boy, did he hear you. Sure, he responded… like he did. The memory of it almost makes your stomach flutter. Part of you wants to be absolutely delusional and just revel in the fact that he inadvertently called himself your husband, but what if he felt forced into it? What if he only said that so that you wouldn’t be caught in a lie? When you think about it, that had to be it. I mean, he was being overprotective in the first place, but he was just trying to defend you from unwanted attention. God- you just wish you could pull your thoughts together. Pick up the confusion and chuck it out the door.

    You drive on autopilot, and before you know it, you’re already “home”. Nathan splits off from you, going to change probably. The fact that he hasn’t really looked at you yet makes you even more anxious, but to be honest, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had. He wasn’t usually affectionate when he was high-strung, and you knew that, but still. You can't seem to let it go.  You’re curled up on the couch when Nathan joins you, fresh out of the shower and already in casual clothes. He gives you a little space as he sits, like he doesn’t want to startle you. He’s still as stoic as ever, but at least he doesn’t look angry. You’re itching to say something, to speak, and he can tell. 

    Nathan could feel your anxiety since the car, and no matter how badly he wanted to know why, he could tell that you needed a moment to get it out. He crosses his arms with a sigh. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but when that idiot at the bar started talking to you he just couldn’t stand it. He knows he blew your cover big time with that punch, but there would always be another crusty bar to go to. In all honesty, he was more concerned with your change in attitude. You receded into yourself in-between the bar and the car, and he didn’t want to know if he was the reason why. He wonders if he overstepped.

    “Sorry, by the way.” You finally manage to say. Nathan cocks an eyebrow at you.

    “For what?” He asks. You look away nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

    “For when I called you my husband back there. I know we’re certainty not… well, I was just scrambling and needed something concrete- and calling you my boyfriend felt weird so-” 

    “Take a breath.” You’re surprised as he cuts you off, feeling a little stupid as you try to collect yourself. There was so much you had been through, so much that you had learned how to handle, but this?? Why was it so hard to communicate feelings like this when you normally can communicate with him so easily on the battlefield? He was probably tired of your rambling.

    “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. We wouldn’t have even had a problem if the guy had taken a hint.” Nathan says, pissed off at the thought of the guy putting his hands on you still. You glance at him, a confused look on your face as you lean back on the couch.

    “So…?”

    “So, don’t apologize. It’s not like I actually…” Nathan stops for a moment, and your heart skips a beat. “I didn’t mind it” He finishes.

    “Oh?... Oh.” You say, slightly taken aback. Nathan is flushed red, staring straight ahead as he avoids looking at you.

    “So we’re okay, right?” You ask.

    “Of course we are,” Nate responds immediately, without even thinking. He looks over at you finally, still blushing a little. You relax at that, having a bit of deja vu. You realize that one of you had moved closer during the conversation, and your sides were pressing together. Nathan’s hair is messy, the gell having washed out during his shower. You always liked how fluffy it was like this, and to be honest, you can't help but reach up and run a hand through his hair. He huffs at the action, a ghost of a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at you, but he doesn’t stop you from doing it. He’s a bit too tall for you to comfortably reach, even sitting down. Your arm is getting a bit tired, but you don’t want to ruin a sweet moment like this one. After a minute of you debating what to do, Nathan sighs and pulls you into his lap. 

    “You think too much.” He says, closing his eyes. He brings one of your hands back up to his hair, encouraging you to keep going. You hadn’t expected the action, almost startled by it. Sure, it wasn't like you had never touched him before, but the two of you… you were still getting the hang of things. New changes, familiar feelings. It felt good to be this close to him, and for once you know that you don’t have to worry about your time together being cut short.

    “Does it bother you?” You ask quietly. “When I think too much?” Nathan hums, hands resting on your waist.

    “...No. You think more than anyone I’ve ever met. Your mind is always running about something or other. Really, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t thinking.” You notice a slight change in his demeanor during his last sentence, but you don’t comment on it. Instead, you find yourself admiring his face. Your hands shift down from his hair, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes, across his cheekbones. Your eyes drift down to his lips, and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him. He’s surprised for a moment, eyes flickering open and then shut as he cups the nape of your neck and kisses you back. You sigh into him, moving to straddle his legs as his left arm tugs you closer to him by your waist. The cold metal chills you through the fabric of your shirt, his thumb idly rubbing against you. 

    Both of you are out of breath when you separate, caught up in the unbreakable connection between the two of you. You look into his pretty brown eyes, and you want to say it. You want to say those little words so badly. But you know you shouldn’t. There was something about saying it that made everything a little too real, that made everything seem a bit too different. You want to say it, but you don't. You know he knows. You know- you hope he feels the same. It’s all you could ever hope.

    “Of course I do,” Nathan whispers, a look so similar to heartbreak on his face. Your eyes widen, once again not realizing his intrusion into your thoughts. Then again, maybe you were just so used to him lingering in the back of your mind that you didn’t notice anymore. You kiss him again. This one is slower, more intimate, more sensual, and he returns it in the same manner. You’re feeling a little sappy, but content just the same. Nathan finds himself in a similar well of emotions, hoping that next time he won't have to remind you for you to know it’s true. 

    Nathan kisses you again, and again. He drags his teeth across your lower lip before smoothing the skin with his tongue. You eagerly open your mouth, goosebumps forming on your skin as he takes the invitation. Both of his hands have moved down to your waist, squeezing the plush skin as the kiss begins to morph into something a little more intense than it originally was. You feel cold fingers start to drift under the fabric of your shirt for a split second before he shifts you to the side.

    Nathan begins to crawl over you, pressing your back onto the couch cushions as he keeps kissing you. He holds himself up with his left arm as the other one begins to slide further underneath your shirt. He’s completely caught up in you and the feeling of you against him. His kisses begin to trail down the side of your neck, and it’s like he knows every sensitive spot by heart. You tangle a hand in his hair again in an entirely different manner than you had done the last time. He shifts his weight so that his other arm has more room to work with. 

    The mood dies a little when your hair gets pinched by something. You let out a yelp of pain, and Nathan immediately recedes from you. You flinch at another tug, realizing that your hair has gotten caught in his metal arm. Nathan is wide-eyed as he leans up, untangling himself from you so that he can carefully tug your hair free. You sit up as he does, rubbing your sore scalp. He raises a hand like he wants to do the same but doesn’t. He makes a sour look at himself and his arm before he begins to lean away from you completely.

    “Sorry, I’ve overstepped,” Nathan says. Your stomach drops to your feet as you scramble to grab a hold of his shirt, keeping him close to you in a bit of an awkward position.

    “No!” You say, a little louder than you intended to. Nathan looks a you, more confused than surprised, like he couldn’t fathom why you were holding onto him, why you wanted him to continue.

     “I… I’m fine with… just-” You’re struggling to say it, flushed beet red at just the thought of what you’re trying to say. Eventually, you huff and give up, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You tug on it a little, but Nathan doesn’t move.

    “Don’t make me ask, Nate.” You say. His breath hitches. You bite your lip and his eyes catch on the sight. He catches himself before he gets a little too distracted, and glances away for a moment before making a decision.

    “Okay. But we're not doing this on the couch.” Nathan grumbles. He stands, pulling you up with him as he does so, and you can’t stop yourself from tugging him down for yet another kiss. He has to bend down to meet you, a little too tall to kiss you comfortably. It’s not much of a problem though, especially when the man you're kissing is strong enough to lift you into his arms like you're weightless. The kiss only breaks for a second as he lifts you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he walks to the bedroom. You realize just how much warmth had begun to pool at the change of position, feeling a wetness between your legs that you wonder if he can feel. 

    You don’t want to distract him as he carries you, but every time you pull away from his kisses he drags you back to him, biting and sucking on your lips in faux annoyance.  It’s like he already has the apartment mapped out in his mind, barely needing to look to navigate through it all. He doesn’t bother closing the bedroom door when he gets there, plopping you down on the bed before he’s crawling over you again, kissing your neck and collarbones as his hands drift underneath your shirt. His hand is rough and calloused compared to the plush skin he finds there, the metal of his other one cold and smooth. You swear it leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

    You clench your thighs together as he touches you, not quite used to the feeling. It’s been a while since anyone has touched you like this, and you find yourself completely overtaken by Nathan. He nips at the skin of your neck, and you gasp at the feeling. He continues to suck and lick at the spot, and when he’s done, he starts another one. You wonder if the man at the bar would have still approached you if you had been marked up like this before, wearing a purple, tender kind of jewelry that you’d only let Nathan give to you. You try to project the thought on purpose, hoping that he’ll pick it up. You think about everywhere else he could mark you, and Nathan curses as he sees the images in his mind as clearly as they appear in yours, a hand thumbing at your bra before it slides under you to unclip it.

    Nathan leans back as he takes your shirt off, the bra coming with it. You try not to shy up as he openly admires your breasts, watching as your nipple pebbles when he brings his cool left hand up to caress the skin. His eyes catch your own as he leans down to your chest, kissing a trail from your collarbones to the peak of your left breast. He sucks and nips at the soft, squishy skin, taking the nipple into his mouth after he had his fill. You let out a small noise of pleasure, gasping at the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive nub as his other hand lovingly caresses the other.

    Your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, sliding under his pajama shirt. Nathan shudders as you gingerly slide your fingers over his scars, and the torn skin that marks the difference between man and machine. Your fingers follow the seam of scarring delicately, caressing the skin. You feel how his skin prickles, and wonder about the extent of his sensitivities before he nips a little harshly at your nipple to catch your attention. You wince at the feeling before he smoothes it over with his tongue. He kisses your breast one last time before he moves back to your lips. 

   You lean into the kiss with a hum, inviting him inside of your mouth as his hands trail down to your waistband. His thumbs hook underneath the fabric before he starts to pull it off of you, underwear included. He breaks from the kiss, wiping the trail of spit that connects your mouths. He leans back onto his knees, kissing down your stomach as he slides your pants off completely. His shirt is next to go, revealing the strong muscles that lie underneath. Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his pants, a certain kind of warmth forming in your chest as you realize that every part of him is intimidating. You feel yourself clench at the thought, spreading your legs shyly, inviting him to touch you where you want him the most.

    It’s like something in Nathan's snaps as he takes in the sight of you. Your flushed face, heaving chest. The marks he’s left across your upper body.

    “Fuck.” He practically growls as he grabs ahold of your thighs, dragging your core flush to his hips and grinding into you smoothly. You can’t help but moan in both pleasure and surprise at the sensation of his soft pajama pants pressing into your bare lips. He feels good against you, his hardness hot and aching to be inside of your warmth.

    “Please,” You gasp. “Please, Nate. I need you.” He curses again at the sound of your voice, his hips jerking into your own. 

    “Not yet. Beautiful.” He rumbles, Struggling to pull himself away from the steady grind. “-Can’t yet. Don’t want to hurt you.” You whine when he stops moving, and he leans forward to kiss you. You twitch at the feeling of his thick fingers sliding through your folds, collecting the wetness he finds there. Nathan groans, knowing just how much you want him from that simple action. He teases you, sliding the pads of his fingers down from your clit to the slit below it, circling your entrance before doing it all over again. You don’t have to say a word for Nathan to know you’re complaining. He chuckles at you, before slipping a finger inside.

    It’s thick. You knew it would be, but feeling it was entirely different. You break from the kiss with a moan as he curls the finger and catches that spongey spot inside of you. He moves his kisses to your cheek, and the spot below your ear as he has one arm keep your hips from jerking. He’s slow and thorough as he prepares you, a second finger sliding in with ease when he deems you ready for it. You knew he was good with his hands, but this was giving you a whole new definition of the phrase. The wet noises coming from you are almost embarrassing as he fingers you, hand absolutely soaked from your wetness already. He uses his other hand to start rubbing your clit, and the pleasure almost becomes too much.

    “Nathan.” You whimper his name, pleading with him. You needed him, badly. You didn’t want to cum yet, not without him inside of you, not without hearing his low groans and moans as you take him exactly like you were meant to. You clench around his fingers at the thought, and he hums as he pulls them away. 

    He pulls you up, switching the position so that you’re on top of him. You don’t hide the fact that you’re watching him as he finally takes off his pants, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen as it slips out of the waistband. You wait till he’s fully kicked them off before you begin to stroke him, twisting your hand at the head of his cock. He groans out your name, and another plume of fire lights inside of you as he does so. You really liked how that sounded, falling from his lips. 

    He’s just as thick as you thought he would be. Your hand can't wrap fully around him, red and straining. His cock twitches as you run your thumb across the slit, collecting the precum that was beading there. You're addicted to the noises falling from his mouth, giving him a slight squeeze to hear him moan again. 

    Nathan grabs your wrist gently when he's had enough, face flushed and breathing heavily. He helps you angle your hips over him, lining himself up with your slit. The head of his cock notches against you, and both of you want so desperately for him to be inside. There's a quiet - schlick- as he slides through that first ring of muscle, both of you moaning at the feeling.

    You take it slow while you're taking him in, circling your hips as You lower yourself down slowly. Fuck- this feels so much better than his fingers. You rest your head against his chest as you struggle to take him, even as wet as you are.

    His hands comfortingly slide up and down your thighs when he bottoms out. You take a moment to collect yourself, feeling a slight pinch with how deeply he fit inside of you. Nathan gives you time, pulling you into another breath taking kiss as you adjust.

    When you're comfortable, you begin gently rocking your hips against his own, feeling Nathan sigh against you. You're grinding your clit against his pelvis each time you rock, enjoying the added pressure against your sweet spot. You begin to work yourself into a pace, reveling in Nathan's groans as you bounce on top of him. 

    His cock is hitting all the right spots inside of you, his hands now gripping the flesh of your ass as he thrusts up into you with each stroke of your hips. He feels so unbelievably good, hot and heavy inside of you. 

    You desperately try to keep up as his thrusts pick up the pace, wanting all of him and more. But your thighs were staring to get sore, and your knees aching from the position. You tuck your head into the crook of Nathan’s neck, balancing yourself on him as a means to catch up, but you just can't. You slow your hips, catching your breath as Nathan continues to trust his hips. He's trying his best to slow down for you, absolutely lost in the feeling of your soft skin and wet cunt.

  “Come on, pretty girl. You can do better than that.” Nate says, making you moan in surprise as he gives you a particularly sharp thrust. You shake your head, pleading with him to just roll you over, take you at whatever speed he would like. He's hesitant at first but you're kissing his neck, nipping and sucking at a spot he doesn't remember being so sensitive.

    “Please, Nate.” You whisper into his ear, and he shivers, body stiffening under you. “Please,” 

    In less than a second, you're under him, legs on top of his shoulders as he thrusts into you wildly. His eyes are hooded, gazing at you lustfully as your breasts bounce with every movement. The sound of skin slapping on skin is loud and pornographic as his balls slap against you with his thrusts, the grunts and moans coming from the both of you not much better.

    Nathan brings a hand down to rub at your clit as his hips begin to stutter, closing in on his pleasure. Your hips jerk as he does so, quickly reaching that peak of white-hot pleasure yourself. He moans your name as your inner walls clench, back arching as you get closer- closer- so close-

    You call out for him when you cum, his hands holding you still by your hips as he ruthlessly fights to reach that peak of pleasure. You're clenching around him as you ride out your orgasm, and it's almost too much.

    Nathan pulls out of you when he cums, sticky streams of white splattering on your stomach. He grinds himself against you a few more times, coming down from the pleasure. Your legs have gone limp against him, boneless as you pant and tremble beneath him. Nathan kisses the inside of your ankles before he eases them down. 

    He leans above you, kissing you tenderly as he cleans you up with his shirt, having dragged the clothing into his hands with his telekinesis. When he's done thoroughly wiping you down, he falls beside you. He rolls you onto his side as he holds you tightly. He's pleasantly exhausted, looking at you in a way that you've never seen before. 

    His large hand comes up to rest against your neck, thumb running over the tender spots on your skin. You make a bit of a face at the soreness.

    “Those are definitely gonna bruise, aren't they?” You ask, somewhat weary of the marks now that the sexy excitement has worn off. Nate huffs a laugh.

    “Yeah.” He affirms. You pout at him as he brushes the hair out of your face, sighing in exasperation. To be honest, you didn’t mind it too much. Certainly not enough to be mad at him for it. 

    “Did you mean what you said earlier?” You ask, closing your eyes as you snuggle into him. Nathan’s hand rubs your back soothingly as you start to drift off.

    “Hm?”

    “Did you mean it. When you said you didn’t mind me calling you my husband.” Nathan is silent for a moment. You don’t quite have the energy to read into it like you would have before, but you're relieved when he speaks up.

    “...yeah” You smile at his answer, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest as you begin to fall asleep, content and wrapped in his arms.