#and then to do that nonstop for TWENTY FOUR HOURS???

[freshbeeth]

holy shit after learning the entirety of the three wishes choreo i can confirm that the idols are in fact, buff as hell

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, softdom jack, p in v, no protection (don’t do this kids!), praise kink and degradation if you squint, dirty talk, wet n messy!, subspace kinda, dacryphilia.

➴ word count: 3.4k

💌 from me to you: can we talk about how they completely forgot about the whole teaching thing and just straight up fucked each other? wild! also, will sarah and jackie wake up with trevor almost yanking jack’s door like morgan from criminal minds? maybe. have a nice reading loves!

𖧷

IF YOU had to describe what you were feeling, you’d have to say you are…

Well. Horny.

Being late to everything in your romantic life, you had never felt aroused towards a man before. Of course, you have had crushes on boys and you’d love if things went further than that, but besides Zack, you had never really intended on having sex with any of them.

Even with that guy back in high school, you only did it because you felt pressured to. You didn’t really like him, and you can only guess that he didn’t really like you either.

Until Jack.

You were sitting on the bench near the lake at your brother’s house, the bonfire near you is almost completely extinguished and you’re staring at the dark, lowkey scary lake in front of you.

It was late at night, everyone Trev had invited to his little lake party had already left, Jack included.

“Hey,” Jack’s honeyed voice reaches your ear, as you finish putting on your sweater. Everyone was inside already, and you could hear Trevor’s nonstop talk. “What’s up with the pouty lips, pretty?”

“I’m not pouting…”

He leans closer, chuckling. “Yes, you are, baby. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you sigh, hoping the darkness around you both hides the blush in your cheeks. “Can’t we move on to the next lesson?” Whispering, you look down to your feet.

Jack’s laugh makes you frown even more.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers. “It’s hard, baby. Trevor’s already complaining about you sneaking out at night and only coming back in the morning.”

“He would never connect the dots, Jack.”

“Baby—”

“Besides that, I’m twenty!” You raise your voice, only to lower it again. “I’m twenty, Jack. If I want you to f-fuck me, it’s my business.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

Jack had a playful, yet amused smile on his face, and you wanted to kiss him really badly.

“I mean, y-yes?”

He leans closer, briefly pecking your lips before stepping back. “Believe me, I want that too, baby. But we can’t right now, so be patient okay? I don’t want Z to give you too much trouble,” he sighs, putting his hands inside his front pocket. “Get inside soon, alright? Don’t want you to get cold. Text me if you need anything, pretty.”

You nod, watching as he smiles at you before leaving.

And you’re still outside, an hour later, with your mind working nonstop. The thought of laying underneath Jack, with his dick inside of you, in and out, while you’re nothing but a whimpering mess under him made you so fucking horny it isn’t one bit funny.

Before, when your friends or even Kiara would talk about wanting to fuck someone, you thought they were just exaggerating to make you want to do the same, and after your first time going awfully terrible, you started to believe that, but now, as you get up and head inside to pack your things, you realise they weren’t kidding.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asks, sounding tipsy as fuck. “Saraah.”

“I’m— I’m going to a guy’s house,” you blurt out, zipping up your bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“What?” He gets up, suddenly looking a whole lot sober, walking in your direction. “What do you mean? No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” You scoff, suddenly brave. “I’m twenty and last time I checked, I’m free to do whatever I want. And if what I want is to go to a guy’s house,” And fuck him until I can no longer speak. “Then I’ll do it. Good night.”

“What— Sarah!”

Trevor keeps shouting your name, but at this point, you’ve had enough of his protective bullshit. He’s been fucking girls since he was seventeen years old, so what’s the big deal anyway?

You call for an Uber and put on Jack’s address.

It was now or never.

𖧷

“I’M PLEASED yet scared to ask what you’re doing here, or how you even got here in the first place,” Jack laughs as he lets you inside his house. You look around, seeing the TV on with some random hockey game playing, and a bag of chips opened on the coffee table. “Does Z know?”

“No, but this time he’ll probably figure it out by himself.” You roll your eyes.

“Do I have to worry about him showing up at my door tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

Jack stays quiet for a while, walking towards you with a mischievous expression on his face.

“Are you this desperate, baby?” He whispers. “Are you so needy for something inside that greedy, little pussy of yours that you’ll run from your brother at midnight just to have my dick inside you?”

“Jack,” is all you manage to say, dropping your things on the floor and ending the distance between your bodies.

“Answer me, baby.”

“You already know the answer to that,” you close your eyes, holding the hem of your sweatshirt tightly. “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not being mean, baby. I just want to hear you say,” he grins. “Tell me, baby.”

“I’m— I am desperate. I want you so bad I think—” you breathe, opening your eyes to stare at his. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head. “How so, pretty?”

“I think about you all the time,” you start, pushing your embarrassment aside. “I wake up w-wet, after dreaming about you all night. Everyday before I get up I have to t-touch myself, pretending it’s your hand instead of mine down there.”

Jack leans closer and kisses your neck, inhaling your perfume right after, before squeezing your waist, hard. “Is that so, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Then you’re not the only one going insane,” he mumbles against your lips. “Because I think about you all the fucking time too. I’ve always cared for you, and you know this, baby, but you grew up and suddenly you’re not Z’s little sister anymore, you’re a fucking woman. And I want you so fucking bad, Sarah.”

You can feel his dick hardening beneath his pants and you try to get closer, even if it’s physically impossible.

“You drive me fucking crazy when you wear those little things that you call skirts, or when you wear those bikinis so fucking tight your tits look edible,” he chuckles. “When you asked me to teach you how to fuck? Sarah, you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted on a silver platter. All I could think about was fucking you.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me, Jack.”

“Sarah—”

“Don’t think about anything else,” you continue, running your fingers through his chest. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Fine,” he smirks. “I’ll give you what you want.”

𖧷

JACK IS absolutely gorgeous and you’re just one single step away from losing your mind. You had imagined Jack fully naked before, and even seen his dick and all of that, but once again, the entire thing did nothing to the real thing;

Jack has a tanned, toned body, abs that you wanted to wrap your hands around and squeeze— his thighs were toned and probably illegal in, like, forty-six countries at least. His dick was flushed and red, rock hard too, and his lips were slightly parted as he stood naked in the middle of the room.

“You’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He smiles at you, who’s also naked, dangerous and so, so lustful.

You smile and look at him with begging, doe eyes, before mumbling a small thank you— you remembered right before your first “lesson” started, Jack said that consent is sexy, and so is being talkative inside the bedroom. No humming, no nodding; just using your words and, if things got too much, saying “stop” would work just fine.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do tonight, sweetheart,” Jack started, shamelessly jerking off his dick in front of you. “You’re gonna come three times. Once on my tongue, once in my fingers and, finally, once on my cock. Are we clear?”

You whimpered, before whispering a faint “Yes.”

“Very well, baby,” his cocky accent crawled out of his mouth, accentuating the last word. “On the bed, hands and knees," Jack instructed, his voice dripping with dominance.

You scrambled onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, your heart pounding with anticipation. You felt vulnerable yet incredibly aroused, your pussy probably leaking against the sheets.

Even with the dim lighting, Jack could probably see how red— everywhere really; your ears, your cheeks, your nose, your knees— and how needy you are. Your pussy was practically dripping, drenched. Jack looked like he wished he could eat you out until you turned into sand in his hands.

And to him, you’re a fucking vision. Face sweaty and anxious, and he could probably tell how much you wanted to move or just do anything, but you were being good and letting Jack dictate what was best for you and oh.

Jack stepped closer to your pliant body on the gigantic bed and caressed it, his fingers tracing a path on your skin; while all you could do was just squirm in place.

“You’re just like a doll,” Jack said, softly but loud enough to make you fucking moan. “So pliant and needy. So easy to play with, even easier to break.”

“Jack.” You whispered, lips wet and shiny.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing that I can do whatever I want with you, with your body— I’ll mark you up, and then everyone will know how good you are for me and what you let me do with you.”

You shivered under Jack’s touch. He decided to be kind and move his fingers a little bit further down, until he was touching your clenching hole. He heard you hold your breath and he chuckled, finding it cute.

He leaned down on the bed, placing his knees on the floor, and kissing your thighs gently— he slowly made his way to your dripping pussy, his tongue licking all the way from your folds to your hole, making you moan loudly. It had been brief, just a light touch, but your knees got weak just the same.

“Hold yourself tight, baby.” Jack ordered, before diving completely into your hole.

And he ate well. He ate you out like a starved man who hadn’t eat in days as he licked and fucked you with his tongue, leaving you trashing under him— you weren’t even in all fours anymore, your knees had given up a minute or two after Jack inserted his tongue inside you. He was sloppy and messy, his spit practically dripping out his mouth.

“Jack, mhhmm, J-Jack, please.” You whispered, and it’d only encourage him to sink further, deeper inside you.

His hands were holding you roughly, and you knew it would look fucking amazing to see his handprints on your ass later. Oh, you’d ascend.

“‘m gonna… Jack, please, can I—”

“Come for me, pretty,” He said, getting his tongue out of you for just a moment, before diving completely again. You were trashing and whimpering, your eyes were in the back of your head, your mouth was open and there was so much wetness in your lips and. “Come for me like the good girl you are, baby. Come on, make me proud.”

“‘M gonna make you proud, I’m—” You were just a step away from actually yelling, with how loud you were sounding. But then. “Jack, oh.”

Jack stepped away, looking at the mess he’d made: you were flushed, sweaty, your hands holding the sheets for dear life, your hair stuck to your forehead. Your lips were red and wet, saliva running down your chin and your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. Your pussy throbbed between the sheets and your thighs were covered with your cum.

“Baby,” Jack breathed. “You did so well, sweetheart. Look at you, coming like a good girl. Aren’t you my good girl?”

“Y-yes, Jack, yes.” You stated, a small smile on your face, eyes still closed.

“How are you, pretty?”

“Fine. So fucking fine.”

“Good.”

He didn’t give time for you to recover, not really, manhandling you further up the bed. You whimpered but complied, too tired to do anything else; besides, you would do whatever Jack asked you to— too cock drunk to think of anything else. You simply wanted Jack to be satisfied, proud.

Without another word, Jack got up and captured your lips in a slow, ardent kiss. Your mouths moved together gently at first, then more urgently as he deepened the kiss. You melted into the touch, your hands coming up to grip Jack’s shoulders. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on Jack’s tongue.

He pulled away momentarily, a thread of saliva connecting your lips. "Keep making those sounds and I swear to God, Sarah, you’re not leaving this bedroom today," he breathed, before claiming your mouth once more, kissing you hard, his hand tightening on your waist.

You whimpered into the kiss, your body thrumming with desire. You wanted more, needed more. Breaking the kiss, Jack trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. You tilted your head back, giving Jack better access, your hands moving up to thread through his silky hair.

Sucking and biting his way down your neck, Jack left a trail of wet, purpled marks, marking you as his. You squirmed under the sensation, a keening whine escaping your throat. "Jack... please," you begged, not sure exactly what you were asking for, but knowing you needed something.

Jack stepped away for a moment, touching your pussy with cold, firm fingers, spreading your slick all over it.

"Shh, I've got you," Jack murmured, continuing his onslaught on your skin.

Jack said nothing as he inserted one finger inside your hotness, a fuck leaving his lips because, fuck, you were tight. He rubbed your clit, side to side, until it mixed with the remains of his saliva, getting it all wet and messy. He inserts another one, making you clench around his index and middle finger.

“You need to relax for me, baby,” Jack whispered, voice gentle once again.

“I’m, I’m— ah,” You moan, voice raspy and soft.

“Come on, pretty.”

You try your hardest— and you hope Jack can tell— and relax, making it easier for both of you. Jack fucks his two fingers inside you, curling them and searching for the thing that’ll have you whimpering under him like a slut.

He finds it after a second or two, making your body move up and up, trying to get away from Jack’s touch and he understands— you had told him it’d been a while (years) since you had sex for the last time and you had just came pretty hard so it was pretty easy for you to get overwhelmed.

Jack wouldn’t have any of it though. “Take it, pretty. If you fucking move again you’re going to take care of yourself alone because I won’t tolerate any fucking brats,” he breathed, watching as you gripped the sheets harder and— tears coming out of your eyes.

“No, no, Jack, please—” you begged and moaned at the same time because, fuck. Jack had just inserted his third finger in you and fuckfuckfuck. “‘m good. I promise. I-I’m good, y-you said it, I’m good, I’ll come, just— Christ, I’m gonna.”

It’s too early for you to be orgasming again, you’re both are aware of it, but; you’re coming and shouting and trashing, your cum coming out of you like you’re fucking squirting. Jack takes his fingers out of you, wiping them in the dark sheets, just to take a good look at you.

“Baby,” Jack whispered, knowing that you were probably deep inside subspace and everything could be too much. “Can you give me one more? Mhm?”

“I-I can’t.”

“How are you feeling, doll?”

“Good,” you whispered, like you were telling Jack a secret.

“Then you can, and you will,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even though you couldn’t see; you had his eyes closed once again. He manhandled you again, arranging you on the bed so your head was laying against the fluffy pillows and your back was on the bed. “You’ll give me one more, baby, and then you can rest. How does that sound, hmm?”

You nodded and just when Jack was about to remind you about your little rule, you opened your eyes and stared so deeply into Jack’s that he forgot about everything for a second. Jack knew he should always get a verbal answer and that he was probably being irresponsible but you seemed to be speaking with him with just a stare and Jack was weak, so, so weak that he just mirrored your action and nodded too.

He lined the tip of his cock with your hole, pushing forward and moaning because even with preparation you were still tight and squeezing his dick and fuck. He sank deeper and deeper until his crotch touched your bottom making you both moan at the same time. Tears were falling from your eyes and your lips were opened, sinful sounds making their way out.

“Fuck,” Jack moaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well, princess. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Ngh—” your eyes were full of tears and you felt his dick twitch inside you. God, he needed to fuck the shit out of you before you exploded.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, okay?” He warned, even though you were like a putty in his arms and he knew it was going to be hard for you to be verbal at that moment; you would need to discuss ways of communicating when you couldn’t properly speak but for now, you’d just try your hardest and hope for the best.

If there is a next time… right?

He put his arms behind yours, locking you up and he then really fucked you. His pace was fast and his thrusts were strong and accurate, hitting your sweet spot every time. You had tears all over your face, saliva all over your mouth and chin, looking like the cheapest fucking whore Jack could ever find. Whining to the point of making Jack’s own head dizzy.

“Ah, ngh, mmgh,” was all you would say, hands almost yanking all of Jack’s hair but he didn’t mind, no, of course not— not when you sounded like a bitch in heat, moans so sweet and delicious that felt like the syrup he liked to add to his breakfast pancakes sometimes. “T-too much, too— mmhmm.”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Jack was thrusting you like your lives depended on it. “Take it like the perfect fucking doll you are, baby, come on, pretty.”

You actually screamed when you came for the third time, almost no cum coming out at all, but your clit felt more sensitive than ever, it was too much and Jack was still hitting your spot like a maniac and Christ—

“You came all over yourself, yeah? Good—” a thrust. “Fucking—” another. “Girl—” another.

Jack kept chasing after his own release and when he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore, he left your inside just to cum on your tummy. You were fully crying now, sobbing quietly.

Jack looked at you, fondly, feeling his heart beating faster than it ever did. He knew you needed him but he couldn’t leave you dirty, so he lifted himself briefly, just enough to reach his shirt on the nightstand, which he used to wipe the cum, sweat and saliva on your— now— fucked body.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Jack whispered, not wanting to overwhelm you even more. He laid down beside you, wrapping your body gently in his arms and laying your head on his chest, covering you both completely with the duvet— that thankfully hadn’t gotten dirty nor wet. “I got you, sweetheart.”

“Was I g-good?” You whispered after a while, voice small and hoarse. Jack chuckled, combing his fingers through your locks.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered back, placing a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead, making you lean in closer. “So fucking good.”

You heard a soft hum and it made you smile. There, with your head on his chest, and the warmth of his body close to his, you realised something: you were utterly fucked because you liked Jack Hughes so fucking much.

You started all of this because you wanted to date Zack, and prove to yourself that you can please him in bed, like any other girl.

But in fact, you don’t want to do that anymore.

Phase four of getting Zack to like you. Phase one of getting Jack to like you…?

[freedomfireflies]

Find Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

Harry has never slipped into his subspace before.

Until today.

Word Count: 3.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“God, please, Bee…please—fuck.”

You watch Harry’s eyes roll back as his hips buck up into the vibrating toy pressed against the tip of his cock. He tugs on the cuffs keeping his wrists attached to the headboard as he curses your name and you can’t help but smile proudly at his reaction.

Harry hasn’t had an orgasm in twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four long, excruciating hours.

Truthfully, you think he’s handled it like a champ.

After all, this was his idea. 

And sure, when he’d suggested edging as something to check off the list, he meant edging you.

Not him.

But here you both are, twenty-four hours into a nonstop fuck-fest.

And it’s been great.

…for you.

You’ve come to learn one very important thing since you both agreed to fuck each other exclusively:

He’s so goddamn beautiful.

In every way. At every time. No matter what he’s doing, if he’s fucking, if he’s speaking, if he’s naked, if he’s asleep. 

And you’ll never get over it. Never be able to look away from him when he’s coming or thrusting into you or begging you to fuck him or rolling you over his cock.

You paint pictures in your head whenever he’s not around.

Of his tan, inked skin that glistens with sweat when he overexerts himself. Of the way his chest rises and falls with desperate gasps for air. Of his curls that fall across his forehead and dance into his eyes. Of the veins in his arms strain from the use of his muscles. 

Which is why you have no problem dragging this little challenge out as far as it can go.

Because Harry makes it all worth it.

“Please,” he groans beneath a forced breath, hooded eyes lifting to find you. “Please, baby…need to feel you. Gotta feel you, Bee—”

His sweet sentiment is lost underneath your own whimper, and your head falls back as you slip the glass dildo in a bit further.

You’ve found numerous ways to torture him. From taking him in your mouth (and popping off before he can come) to riding his cock slowly (and popping off before he can come).

You’ve teased him, fucked him, near tortured him with pleasure just to take it away.

But the one thing that seems to really do it for him…is watching you touch yourself just out of his reach.

You’ve already done this twice in the past day, but this is his final straw. You can tell just from the way his aggressive threats from yesterday have turned into depleted and anguished whines for mercy today.

You’ve never heard him make so many pathetic noises and it’s everything. The soundtrack you could live the rest of your life to.

And you use it to help you ease the toy in and out of your already overused cunt. Because while Harry has had zero orgasms, you have had many. Perhaps too many if the way you have to stop for Gatorade and snacks every couple of hours is any clue. 

But you don’t mind. And neither does he, truthfully. He likes watching you come. Tells you this constantly. And it’s that kind of appreciation and thrill that continues to inspire your next one.

“Harry,” you whisper, lashes fluttering shut as you clench around the toy, and you hear him gasp again. 

He wants that to be him. Wants it more than anything.

Which is why you aren’t giving it to him.

“Bee…” His voice is small. Airy. Almost reverent in a sense as he calls out to you. As he begs you to give him something.

The sounds of your arousal as it’s pushed in and out of you is an erotic symphony and you just about shudder as it echoes around the room.

Harry whimpers. 

And it’s so pathetic and so depraved that it forces your eyes back open so you can see him.

The vibrating object against his cock is dragging him once again to the finish line. The finish line he has seen and lost a plethora of times already. It’s got to hurt at this point. In fact, you know it does. Know he’s barely holding on and your heart aches for him.

You steal a quick glance down at your phone that’s just beside you to look for two things:

The first being so that you can check the settings on the Bluetooth toy to make sure it doesn’t need adjusting.

And the second being so you can see the timer and calculate just how much time is left in this little experiment. 

Five minutes.

He’s only got five minutes left before his twenty-four hours are up, and you’re so fucking glad. You’d almost argue that you need him to come more than he needs it.

Because while making yourself come (either by your fingers, or a dildo, or his cock) is nice, it’s nothing compared to coming with him. Of knowing that he was the one responsible for your pleasure.

Truth be told, you don’t think you’ll be too quick to suggest edging in the future.

You waste a couple more minutes with the glass toy, thrusting it slowly at different angles until your toes are curling and your nails are scratching into the sheets. 

Poor Harry just about loses it as he sees you get closer to your release. Quietly begging you to let him feel you come. To have you ride his cock like earlier as you clench down on him. It’s his favorite thing in the world and you pout when you hear his request.

Three minutes.

You pull the dildo out and you both watch the string of arousal that follows, with Harry writhing against the headboard, once more pulling on the handcuffs. 

To tease him just a little more, you lift it up and bring it to your mouth. Your tongue drags upward, collecting everything in its path until you can wrap your lips around the tip of the toy and take it into your mouth.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, and he smacks his head back against the wall, almost as if in retaliation. 

You grin.

After tossing the object aside, you crawl back over to his lap. He continues to keep that pretty green hidden from you as you smooth your palms up his thighs to alert him of your presence. 

And not even after you’ve removed the vibrating wand and begun to straddle him does he look at you. He simply makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a desperate whine before allowing you to take his cock in your hand.

You pump him a few times, just to feel how heavy he is, how needy. He twitches the moment he feels you, a soft sigh slipping from his lips.

And finally, once you gingerly drag him along your cunt, he looks up. 

You reach out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across the feverish skin as you whisper, “It’s okay, Har. We’re almost done.”

He perks up, expression growing hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hum as you glance back down. “Want you to come with me.”

“Yes,” he breathes, already attempting to wiggle up and assist. “Yes, do anything.”

“Anything?” you tease, brushing your thumb down his lip. “Already done everything for me, baby.”

He seems to bask in this praise, slowly pulling your finger into his mouth until he can suck it sweetly. Mostly just to make your cheeks warm.

Which they do.

When you lower yourself down, you both cry out. You’re so overworked and overstimulated from the past few hours that it’s almost painful.

But that kind of pain feels like ecstasy right now, so you instantly get to work rolling your hips and working you both to the end.

As you do, Harry continues to fight against the restraints, another fruitless attempt at reaching for you.

This is something else you’ve learned he loves. He loves to hold you. Pretty much at any given moment, but especially when you come. 

You’d asked him about it before and he said the emotional intimacy was just as orgasmic and satisfying as the physical intimacy. And you’d laughed because it hadn’t made a whole lot of sense.

But having come so many times in the past day without him holding you has felt rather…unsatisfying.

Empty.

You realize now he was exactly right.

You surge forward and kiss him, and he moans into your mouth as though you’ve given him everything he’s ever needed. As if you’ve given him air in his lungs. As if this is what he’d really wanted.

One minute. 

He’s already begging you not to leave him again, saying your name over and over and over as you attempt to shush him. As you promise to be good to him and let him fill you the way he loves to do.

Your hands scratch down his chest and he hisses at the sting but seems to revel in it. You know he likes the pain. 

He likes to joke that he’s gonna get your marks tattooed on his chest permanently so he can always see them. Always show them off.  

And you always laugh at this but deep down, you know he just might do it.

Right now, you want him to.

You scratch until he bleeds. Until the ruby red blood trickles down his chest and stains the tips of your fingers.

Until he’s whimpering again and thrusting up into you, searching for that release. 

You’re both close. Both so fucking close that you can’t see anything else but the end. You can’t see reason, can’t see how tired you are, can’t see the point.

You just see him.

The timer goes off, the startling melody blaring from your phone speaker as you both jolt.

But this seems to be the perfect jumpstart for you because the second you hear it, you begin nodding fervently as you retake his face in your hands and whisper, “Now, baby. Now. Come for me right now. Please, Harry. Please, need to feel you. Need it, Har, God—”

It’s animalistic and virile the way he cries out for you. The way it fucking rips through him like a blade, forcing you along with it.

It’s everything.

Everything you’d been missing from the previous twenty-four hours, and this is so much better than coming alone.

You kiss him through each second, arms snaking around his neck to keep your bodies close. 

And you hold him. You hold him the way he can’t hold you. You hold him as you both feel it, as you bathe in the euphoric bliss, as you live. 

It feels like hours before you finally come back down and find yourself again. Until you can breathe, and blink, and move.

Your face nuzzles into Harry’s neck and he presses his cheek into your hair, keeping you close.

“How do you feel?” you whisper after a moment, pressing a chaste kiss to his sweaty skin.

He hums.

Chuckling to yourself, you pull yourself back so you can see him again, and the tired, faraway look in his eye makes your pulse stutter.

You reach out to brush your fingers through the damp curls, guiding them off his forehead as he nestles into your touch. “You okay, baby?”

More humming and nodding.

Your smile widens. “My sweet boy…little out of it, hm?”

He says nothing. He only relaxes against the headboard, seemingly content to have you sweep your hands through his hair for the rest of time.

You snort. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab the key and then grab us a snack. Guess we better shower, too—”

Suddenly, he’s sitting up, eyes going wide as you begin to crawl off his lap. “Wait, where…where are you going?”

“Told you,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way for the key on the desk. “Gonna let you go and then get some food.”

He blinks, almost as if trying to process your response.

However, you simply toss him a smile and return to the bed so you can set him free.

He doesn’t watch the key turn in the lock but instead watches your face. He watches your concentration as you attempt to keep him comfortable and pull him free as quickly as you can. He watches your nose scrunch and your brows furrow when it sticks before finally clicking. And he watches you gently drop his arms down to his sides before discarding of the metal restraints.

The moment he’s got use of his hands again, he uses them to grab onto you, and wrestle you onto the bed.

You laugh as you’re scooped up against his chest and rolled over until you’re on your back and he’s tucked into your side.

Now it’s his turn to bury his face in your neck as he takes a deep breath and lets you live within his lungs. 

And you don’t exactly mind.

You stay there for the next few minutes, nails now gently scratching up and down his back to soothe him as he practically purrs.

You love these moments with him.

True to form, you eventually take hold of his wrists and bring them to your mouth, kissing along the angry, pink marks painted across the skin.

He returns to watching you do this, just as mesmerized by your tenderness as he was the first time.

And you exist together. Just like this.

Eventually, fatigue begins to catch up with you, and you’ll only feel truly rested if you’re fed and showered. 

So, you begin to pull yourself out of his grasp, only to have him tighten his arms as he murmurs, “No. Stay.”

You chuckle as you dip down to press a kiss to his forehead. “We need to shower, Har, and then we can come back to bed.”

“No,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut. “No. Don’t…don’t wanna move.”

His pleas are sweet, and you almost want to coo at him, but you know you need to make him eat something and let him clean himself up. He’ll feel so much better after he has, and you want that for him.

You wrangle yourself out from between his arms and stand from the bed. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You practically skip to the kitchen, despite your weary muscles. You love what you two have. Love the incredible sex and the even more incredible connection.

You love him.

You’ve always loved him. As your best friend, as a partner, as a really great fuck.

He’s just…

Everything.

You make some toast and grab a glass of water before returning to the bedroom. You’ll have him take a few bites and then you’ll drag him to the bath so you both can unwind and talk.

This is another ritual of yours. After each scenario and experimentation, you devote some of the aftercare to talking about it. What worked, what didn’t. What you liked, what you’d prefer not to do again.

These are some of your favorite chats. There’s a certain vulnerability in admitting your preferences in such a way. Somehow more vulnerable than actually being naked with said person. At least for the two of you.

But he loves to hold you, your back against his chest, his fingers interlocked with yours. And you just…talk. Sometimes you’ll tease him about how good he is at something after having only done it one time.

And he’ll tease you about how you secretly love his inexperience because it makes you feel powerful.

Which it does. And you do.

So, today, you’re looking forward to having another one of these chats. You already anticipate some quippy remarks about how he’s not a fan of your methods and you can’t help smiling as you make your way for the bedroom.

When you arrive, you find that there’s something…off.

The boyish smile he usually sports after sex is nowhere to be found, instead replaced with a rather vacant, spaced-out expression. 

You arrive at his side and slowly push the plate and drink toward him. “Har?”

He blinks, head rolling until he can slowly look up at you. 

You feel your pulse stagger. “You okay?”

For a moment, he says nothing. Almost as if he’s running your question through in his mind.

And then…his eyes get glassy. His pretty, pink lips push into a pout, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Where did you go?” he murmurs, and instantly, your stomach drops. “You…you left. Wasn’t…I didn’t…”

You’ve never heard him speak like this. In such a desolate, forlorn way. 

You place the food on the nightstand and immediately crawl back onto his lap. Your arms wrap around him and you hold onto him so tight, you’re surprised he can still breathe.

“I didn’t go,” you whisper, pressing kisses to his temple. “Promise. I’m right here.”

His large arms snake around your middle as well, fingerprints pressing indents into your sides as he squeezes just as tight.

Then, he disappears into your neck, mumbling something you don’t catch, but even still…it guts you.

You’ve never seen anyone in their subspace before. Especially not Harry. You yourself have only slipped maybe once or twice. 

It’s an incredibly…intense experience. Can make you feel helpless in a sense. Completely dependent on one person, so far removed from yourself and from your consciousness that you don’t know anybody or anything else.

Truth be told, seeing Harry so…small is almost frightening. Because this need to protect him and keep him safe just about overwhelms you. You don’t want him to feel abandoned or scared or unsure.

You just…you want to keep him in your arms forever. Want to tell him that you’ll never leave him. That even if you did…you’d always come back.

“M’right here,” you tell him again, fingers stroking through the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Promise, promise, promise.”

You think he hums his contentment, but you can’t really hear him. You choose instead to believe that he’s relaxing as he loosens his grip on you and presses a kiss to your collarbone.

You lean back to see him. “Wanna take a bath with me?”

He seems intrigued with this, nodding quickly as you gingerly remove yourself from his body and help him off the bed.

Things are quiet for the next few moments. You start the water, crouching beside the tub so you can make sure the temperature is just right. And once it’s ready, you take Harry’s hand, and help him step over the ledge.

This time, he’s the one in your arms. Sitting between your legs, snuggled back against your chest. 

It’s perfect.

You don’t rush to bathe him right away, instead allowing him to simply settle in your embrace as the hot water gently relaxes his muscles.

You don’t try to coax him back to you, either. You let him decide when he feels safe enough to slip out. To return to his own mind instead of yours.

But you do have to admit…you miss him. Miss the normally chatty and borderline annoying man you’ve come to tolerate. 

“Har?” you murmur as you trickle some water down his chest.

He hums.

“Are you gonna let me find you soon?” you ask softly, lips ghosting the shell of his ear. 

“Find me?”

“Yeah.” You drape both arms around his shoulders as your hands come to rest over his butterfly tattoo. “Wanna find you and take you to bed with me.”

The side of his mouth quirks up in a lazy smile. “Can always take me to bed with you.”

You grin, too. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His lashes flutter shut. “Don’t have to find me. M’always here.”

“…are you?”

He hums again.

You aren’t quite sure what that means but you don’t push it further. Whether he’s slipped out of his subspace or not, he’s still your Harry.

And your Harry needs all the love and attention you have to offer.

You stay in the bath for exactly twenty minutes longer before realizing you need to get him into bed before he falls asleep on you.

It’s a bit of a struggle to move him. He’s already half asleep, and very large, and very heavy.

But after wrangling him to the bedroom, you manage to tuck him in, and get him settled.

You’re not far behind. Physically and emotionally spent from the past twenty-four hours. He curls into your side once he realizes you’re there, and you fall asleep with the sounds of his soft breaths against your cheek.

Sometime in the night, you’re awoken by the feel of his thumb sweeping across your jaw. It’s gentle enough not to startle you, and you sigh sleepily as you blink the dreams from your eyes so you can see him.

He’s propped up on his arm as he stares down at you, continuing the tender caresses to your face.

“Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi,” he murmurs back. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, I just…I wanted to see you. And I couldn’t wait until morning.”

You fight a grin as you slip your fingers around his wrist and give it a squeeze. “You’re very cute.”

“I know,” he replies teasingly, and you chuckle. “And…I wanted to thank you.”

Your head tilts. “Thank me? For what?”

He takes a moment to study you, a look of adoration on his face.

Then…he smiles.

“Finding me.”

Next Part:

~ Watch Me* (A Teach Me Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Love Me* (Pt. 5)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Dedicated to @catlover99sstuff who requested more subspace Harry quite a while ago 😭

Tags: (Since this is an extra, I have no idea if you guys want to be tagged in it, but if not, please let me know! And I will remove you promptly! But if you are okay with being on this list, then welcome back, I've missed you🥹💞)

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @straightontilmornin @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @tiaamberxx @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

[lordgrimoire]

The Amity Parkers

Inspired by This Post, which is long, read the many reblogs and tags and comments, it’s fun!

Tim was Ninety Percent Sure that he was going absolutely insane, granted it was a long time coming. Danny Fenton, his Chemistry teacher and Dash Baxter, his Phys Ed teacher? That was two people from the same practically non-existent town in Illinois, but add onto that the fact that even MORE people kept showing up in Gotham from sleepy little Amity Park and proceeded to either A:Thrive or B:Thrive but with the Energy of a Kryptonian having nonstop contact highs.

After his two teachers, or more accuratly before, there had been Jazz Fenton, a new Psychiatrist working in Gotham and making rather noticeable strides in things. Then arrived her brother and Baxter, who had applied roughly at the same time in the aftermath of a Rogue attack on the cities water treatment plant, and the floodgates seemed to less open more fly off the hinges as though breaching charges had been used. 

Now there were MORE people here, there was Tucker Foley, working at Wayne Enterprises as a coder and a damn terrifying one to boot, Sam Manson, an activist who ended up throwing Tim during one of his Red Robin patrols where he’d come across her “Protest Site” which had been a small park in The Narrows. Wes Weston, a cop, had been giving his coworkers and his Chem teacher NOTHING but grief, insisting that Fenton was doing “Something” wrong but never quite being able to get things to stick, upon further digging this had been a long running one sided rivalry. There was also a SECOND Psychiatrist, Paulina Sanchez, at Gotham Academy who was also from Amity Park, and her files were airtight, as Damian’s most recent hacking attempt and Tim’s own follow up had failed to breach her firewalls.

So, here Tim was, staring at Danielle “Dani/Ellie” Masters, Dr. Fenton’s CLONE and the Academies newest but also most feral teacher as she boxed the Joker hard enough for an audible crack to be heard from their classroom from where she was fighting the demented clown on the field. Baxter was still running his class as normal, though a bit further away, and Dr. Fenton was still teaching their class, while Tim was trying to get Extra Credit and vengeance on the Doctor through today’s extra credit task, making a tracker that could track Doctor Fenton for Twenty Four Hours. 

Why was he seeking vengeance you ask? Well given the fact that Jason brought Doctor Fenton to Family Dinner last week [with Alfred’s blessing] and had come in with the most gremlin-esque energy he’d seen from a Non-Rogue. Now don’t get Tim wrong, he likes Doctor Fenton, he may be demented as all get out but he was regularly making counters to drugs and toxins that seemed to just inhabit Gotham. BUT! Doctor Fenton and Jason had been so sickeningly cutes-y with each other at Dinner, like a couple of Birds of Paradise trying to one up each other.

Then of course was the “Story Time” where the two had teamed up to tell embarrassing stories, though Danny held back, a touch. It didn’t absolve him, especially with how he egged on Jason, which very much didn’t help the whole “I know you’re the Bats” situation. AND THEN! There was the fact that a majority of the Amity Parkers KNEW that they were the Bats, It was as though they had gone through this whole song and dance before, which given prior statements of Doctor Fenton having “Hung up the Cape” seemed to imply he used to be a hero in Amity Park, where your average joe could one on one a rank and file leaguer or at least give them a rough time.

The fact that a semester of training from Baxter and Fenton alone had made Tim’s year group capable of facing off with the JL  was a testament to that.

Speaking of which, some Junior Leaguers were coming to Gotham, if only for a place where they were not as “Strange”. Some of those moves may have been encouraged with the recent custody battle between Luthor against Vlad and Danielle Masters regarding Connor, who was a Copyrighted clone as it turns out, which had resulted  in Connor being made a ward of Danielle Masters, who had chewed Superman out HARD along with her Original, Doctor Danny Fenton himself.

Suffice to say, Clark did NOT get majority of Custody, and only got every third weekend, which was terrifying in Tim’s opinion that this small town mayor who was as wealthy as Luthor, had turned up, legally thrashed Luthor, and then given custody over to his daughter, thrashed SUPERMAN with KRYPTONIAN LAWS, and then gone back to Amity Park Illinois to resume his Mayor-ship there. The fact the town was essentially a self governing and self sufficient region  meant that the League was now VERY AWARE of it, and the fact that the League of Assassins had tried and FAILED multiple times to infiltrate the town, with more people going rogue than staying loyal, with only one out of nearly two hundred assassins returning to Nanda Parabat, critically wounded and very much insane.

In Tim’s opinion? Amity Park raised people similar too but far more prepared than Gothamites, for while Gothamites may have the Fight in their bones, Amity Parkers seem ready to back it up with experience, training, and life experience. 

But then again, Mr. Lancer had been an immigrant to Amity Park, and he was the blueprint of sorts for all of his students who had gone into teaching, much the same for how Batman was the Blueprint for all the other Bats.

____________________________________________

Tagging some Folks included in the Masterpost

@plotwholls @welcometosasakiworld @bonebrokebuddy @transsunmoonwizzard @omnicrafts @vala-dreams @fox-sama97 @tired-mom @kyrianclawraith @americano-psycho @mikami1992 @thecatchat @stealingyourbones @mutable-manifestation @britcision @dxrksong @kawaiikenna @mrowsters @the-gay-florist @thatgaydemigodnerd @0satellite0 @afanofmanyships @pencil-for-a-dog @any-mouse

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 5

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley finds something out about you that has him barely in control of himself, and he decides he needs to test something out before going forward with you.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were still reeling from the kiss you had with Bradley, even well into the next day.

Kissing his cheek was one thing, but feeling his lips against yours was something else entirely. You wanted more. 

You didn’t get the chance to see him after class yesterday since your schedules were so different, but you didn’t mind since you two had been texting nonstop. 

The texts you shared with Bradley were a nice refresher to the last few messages you shared with Luke, especially that last one he sent you that you didn’t even bother replying to. If he thought that the four years you were together were a waste of his time, then you wouldn’t give him another minute of yours by texting him back. 

Your phone went off as you were walking to the gym that was a few blocks away from the campus, and you sipped on your coffee as you read Bradley’s latest text. 

Fratley: It’s been over twenty four hours since I last saw you. Can we do something today? Pretty please?

You laugh and text him back with one hand as you reach the gym and use your key card to unlock the door to the room you rented for an hour. 

I can’t right now, I’m teaching a yoga class in a few minutes. After?

Bradley read your text but instead of replying to it, he called you. “Why am I just now finding out that you teach a yoga class?” He asked as soon as you accepted the call. 

You laugh and set your bag and mat down onto the floor. “Hello to you, too,”

“Hi. Why am I just now finding out that you teach a yoga class?” He repeats his question, making you laugh loudly as you sit down next to your bag. 

“I don’t know,” you answer and look at your reflection in the mirror that was along the wall across the room. “It never came up, I guess.”

“Fuck,” he cursed and you laugh again, stretching your legs out in front of you and beginning your warmup while on the phone with him. “I should’ve asked you more about yourself. I had no idea you taught a yoga class. That’s so hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and set it down on the floor next to you before reaching forward with both arms and stretching out your back. “It’s really not,” you brush off his words. “It just keeps me busy when I’m not in class. I only do it once a week, though.” 

Bradley mutters something you can’t quite hear before he sighs. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” He asks and you snort as you sit back up straight. “First you kiss me, and now you’re telling me you do yoga.”

“You liked that, huh?” You murmur and lean off to the side, opening up your ribcage to get it ready for the positions you would be doing once everyone got here. 

“Liked it? Are you seriously asking me that right now?” He asked in disbelief. “You should let me come to this class.”

“No,” you immediately answer, sitting up again and picking up your phone. “Not a chance.”

“See, I knew you were teasing me,” he muttered. “Please? I’ll be good, promise.”

You scoff. “You’d just be a distraction,” you say. “I can’t focus on anyone else when there’s a stupidly hot guy in the room.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he said, “So I distract you, too,” then he added, “That’s what you get for kissing me then bailing right after.”

“I did not bail,” you defend yourself with a stupid smile on your face. “I had class to get ready for, and I’m pretty sure you did, too.”

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he murmured and you gave up on your warmup, instead you sat against the wall with your knees against your chest. “Still can’t believe you’re blowing me off to teach yoga. I’d be mad if I didn’t find it so hot.”

“I’m not blowing you off, I said we could hang out after,” you remind him just as the first few people came through the door. “Speaking of; I gotta go.”

Bradley hummed, “Okay. Can I pick you up after? We can get pizza or something,”

You hadn’t actually eaten much today since you would be wearing tight fitting clothing and didn’t want to look bloated, so pizza actually sounded really good right now. “You know the way to my heart,” you tease and he laughs that deep laugh that had you pressing your thighs together. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great, you should send me the address now so I can be prepared, you know?” He trailed off and you rolled your eyes again. 

“You’re not watching me do yoga,” 

“Fine,” he huffed, making you grin. “I’ll see you later, babes.”

There was that name again. You thought he called you it by accident yesterday, but here he is saying it again and making you feel all flustered right before you were about to teach a class. “Okay,” you agreed in a whisper, hanging up after before you could say anything embarrassing.

-

Bradley couldn’t believe how turned on he got when you told him that you taught a yoga class every week.

It was yoga, for fucks sake, why did he find the image of you doing it so attractive? Then he remembered that he’s found literally everything you’ve done since he met you attractive, then it started to make sense. 

An hour or so passed since his call with you, and then you sent him the location of a gym that was a fair distance from campus. He had a feeling you walked there, and were probably planning on walking back if he didn’t offer to go get you, even though it was nearing seven thirty at night and it was getting darker by the second. 

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of you walking around all the time by yourself, even if the areas surrounding the campus were relatively safe. He knew he shouldn’t be this protective over you so soon, but he couldn’t help it. His mom raised him right in that sense.

Bradley stopped for pizza on the way to pick you up, and he made sure the seat warmer was on since he knew you liked being scorching hot while in the car for some reason. 

He was waiting for only a couple minutes before you exited the gym, and you looked insanely sexy for someone who just finished teaching a class. Your black leggings and tight tank top was really doing something to him, and Bradley had to quickly adjust himself in his jeans just as you opened the car door and got in. “Hi,” you greet and drop your bag onto the floor. 

“Hey,” he managed to say back before gesturing to the pizza on the backseat. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got pepperoni to be safe.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” you smile and put on your seatbelt as he starts driving again. “Sorry, I look kinda bad right now. If I had known we were hanging out after, I would’ve brought a change of clothes.”

Bradley wanted to laugh, then he realized you were being serious. “You don’t look bad,” he scoffed and turned onto the street that leads out of town and back to campus. “You look as hot as I thought you would. Maybe even more.”

“You’re full of it,” you repeat what you told him the last time you were in his living room, and it once again had him laughing quietly to himself. “You remembered to put the seat warmer on.”

He glanced over at you with a raised brow. “Yeah, you’re the only person I know that puts that shit on when it’s still summer,” 

You laugh, covering your mouth as you did so and he couldn’t stop himself from calling you out on it this time. 

“Why do you do that?”

You look over at him with confusion on your face, “Do what?”

“You cover your mouth when you laugh,” he said, then lightened the mood by adding, “You don’t have anything in your teeth, I promise.”

“Oh, my God,” you cover your whole face this time as you groan, and he cackles. “Thanks for that, I know. I don’t know why I cover my mouth, I guess I just don’t like the way I look when I laugh. That’s all.”

That was by far the craziest thing Bradley has heard all day. He saw you laugh at the party, and even though he was drunk, he still remembered how pretty he thought you were, and it only intensified when he made you laugh the other night at Five Guys. You were carefree that night, but now you were restricting yourself around him, and he didn’t like it. It felt like you were going backwards, and he was more than prepared to go forward with you. 

“I think you look pretty when you laugh,” he said and thought it would make things feel like a cheesy moment in those romcoms he forced himself to watch with Bri, but it didn’t. It felt normal. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I like how natural it’s been between us since we met.”

You lean back in your seat and look over at him in a way that makes him want to pull over and kiss you again. “I like it, too,” you confess quietly.

The rest of the car ride passed by quickly and comfortably, and soon enough Bradley had you sitting on his lap at the small table in the kitchen he barely used. He kicked out the chair next to his for you to sit on, but you surprised him by draping your legs over his and pressing your side against his front. 

He wasn’t complaining a single bit as he casually wrapped his arm around your middle while you both ate. “So, do I get to have a private one on one now that there’s no one here for me to distract you from?” 

You blushed and shook your head as you bit into the crust. “Absolutely not,” 

Bradley whined. He actually whined as he said, “You keep teasing me,”

“I’m not,” you laughed, but this time you didn’t cover your mouth, and that had his pout softening until he was smiling up at you. He thought the whole yoga topic was done after that, then you shifted on his lap and offered him something that made his hold around your waist tighten just a bit. “Ask me that question again at some point and my answer might change.”

You stayed over for another hour after that, and then you rejected his offer to drive you back to your place as you said you wanted to ‘work off the three pieces of pizza’ you ate. 

Bradley already missed having you in his space as he cleaned up the kitchen and put away the leftover pizza, and when his phone went off with a new text, he shamelessly hoped it was you. 

It wasn’t.

Bri ❤️❤️: Hi, Brad. I was thinking about you all day. I know it’s kinda late, but can I come over? 

Had she sent him this text before he started getting to know you, he would’ve been all for her coming over right now. But as he read her text over and over again, he didn’t really feel anything. Maybe he was thinking about you too much right now to be able to take in her request fully, and he honestly hoped that wasn’t the case.

You were so different from Bri. You were sweet, funny, nice, and everything she wasn’t in all the months he was with her. 

Still, he found himself wanting to test something out. He wanted to make sure of some things before he continued hanging out with you.

Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked. 

He sent the text before he could talk himself out of it, then went upstairs and waited for Bri to arrive. He was flipping through the lecture notes he took today when she knocked on his bedroom door and invited herself in. “Hey,” she said, dragging the word out as she closed the door behind her. 

“Hi,” he said back, finding himself not feeling the way he usually did every time he was alone in his room with her. 

“It’s been a while since I was in here,” she commented as she dropped her bag onto his floor, making herself at home as she began to inspect his room. 

If you consider less than a week a while, he wanted to say, but held off on it. “Yeah, I guess,”

She smirked over at him as she trailed her finger along his desk before lifting her gaze up to the bulletin board that was hung up on the wall above it. “Ooh, the Botanical Gardens?” She asked as she pulled the ticket from the board and held it in her hands. “We should go there. It’d be so pretty this time of year. And I hear it got recently renovated.”

It did. He got to see it firsthand with you. And it was pretty. But Bri wouldn’t get to see it with him. He went to the gardens with you on what he considered a date now that you and he were getting closer, and he refused to let Bri taint his prior experience there. He didn’t want to go there with her, not when he had already gone with you and ended up having a really nice time. 

Bradley stayed silent, making Bri look back at him as she set the ticket you bought him down on the desk instead of putting it back on the board. “Not feeling talkative tonight?” She cooed, reaching up to slide off her jacket. It dropped to the floor as she made her way over to his bed, where he was still laying on his side and watching her every move. “That’s okay. I can think of a few ways to get you in the mood.

When she pressed one of her knees onto the mattress and traced her fingers along his thigh, he tensed up. “Bri,” he said in a warning tone, but she must’ve thought that was an invitation to continue. 

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry about the way things ended between us,” she murmured, biting down on her lip as she moved so she was on her knees next to him. “I miss you, Brad. I shouldn’t have broken up with you.”

This was it. This is what he wanted to hear her say ever since she walked out of this very room the morning of the day he threw that party. The party he met you at. He wanted this, but not anymore. 

It was clear to him now, and by the way his body reacted negatively to her instead of him getting turned on by her advances, that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore. Maybe she never was. 

Maybe it was all just a filler until he met the person he did want. And he was pretty sure he’d already met that person. It was you. 

“Bri,” he tried again, but she ignored him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning in to brush her lips against the side of his neck. He pulled away from her touch, but she followed after him with a laugh. “We were good together, weren’t we, Brad? I know you miss me as much as I miss you. Come on, quit teasing.”

He already knew that he wasn’t physically attracted to her anymore, he didn’t need to let this continue on any further. He felt guilty, even though you and he weren’t even together. He wanted this to be you. He wanted you. 

When she reached for the zipper of his jeans, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, halting her actions instantly and making her jump slightly in surprise. “Briana,” he muttered and her eyes widened at the seriousness in his voice. 

She looked so dejected, he almost felt bad that she clearly wasn’t going to get what she came here for, which was his body. She made sure he knew that his body is all he’s good for when she broke things off with him, and it was obvious that’s what she was wanting to get out of this little reunion. 

Still, he didn’t want to completely offend her or make her feel bad. “I have an early class tomorrow. You should go,”

But then her gaze turned cold. “Oh, my God,” she gasped, pulling her hand out of his grasp. “You like that girl you were talking to at the party, don’t you?” So she did see him talking to you, but still went home with Jensen anyway.

Bradley stayed silent again as she didn’t need to know about his relationship with you. No one did. What he had with you, that obvious connection you shared, he wanted to keep that just between you and him. 

She let out a humorless laugh. “You really moved on that quick?” She scoffed and he narrowed his eyes. 

“You moved on the day we broke up,” he pointed out and she rolled her eyes. 

“That’s different,” she muttered and he pushed away his notes and sat up.

“How? How is that different?” He asked and she huffed, standing up and grabbing her jacket from where she dropped it by his bed.  

“It just is,” she answered, throwing her jacket on and glaring at him. “I can’t believe you. What, you meet one girl who actually gives you attention for more than five minutes and you suddenly forget about me?” 

Bradley opened his mouth to defend both you and himself, fed up with the way she talked to him at this point and now about you, but she went on,

“You’re pathetic, Bradshaw,” she laughed again and grabbed her bag. “Thanks so much for wasting my time tonight.”

She opened the door and slammed it behind her, and he could hear her loud footsteps as she went downstairs and left the house, slamming the front door behind her as well. 

Bradley scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, kind of pissed off at the way that whole thing went, but he also didn’t let himself get too heated. She really wasn’t worth it anymore. 

He was getting better at calming himself down before he got too mad, but he was still feeling irritated because of Bri, even after he had a shower and got ready for bed. 

He wanted to call you, wanted to talk to you and let himself get lost in your kind and sweet voice. 

Fuck it.

He grabbed his phone and pressed on your contact, holding it to his ear for a few seconds as it began to ring.

Wait. No.

He didn’t want to bother you with this. You had a good day today, and he didn’t want to ruin it by calling you when he wasn’t fully calmed down yet. 

Bradley quickly ended the call and threw his phone onto his bed before falling down onto his pillow and groaning. He was only a few seconds into his pity party when his phone went off, and when he grabbed it, he saw that it was you calling him back.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling onto his back as he accepted your call. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you say and he could hear the small amount of panic in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered, draping his arm over his face as he sighed. “Why?”

“You called me then hung up,” you laugh nervously, “I got worried.”

Bradley felt himself beginning to smile, and he somehow knew you would be able to make him feel better. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his arm back down to his side. “Something happened and it made me….never mind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, then it was like you read his mind as you asked, “Do you want to talk for a bit?”

Bradley leaned back on the pillow and let himself picture the way you looked at him when he said that he thought you were pretty when you laughed. The smile you gave him in the Jeep was so pretty, he was getting flustered just thinking about it. “Yeah,” he answered just as quietly. “Can we?”

He heard you shuffling on your end of the call, and he wondered if you were in a similar position he was in. “Of course,” you say. “What do you want to talk about?”

He thought about it for a few seconds before asking the first question that popped into his head. “What’s your favorite color?”

You laugh in response, and the sound has Bradley’s mood lifting considerably. “Mint,” you reply. “What’s yours?”

“Blue and red,” he rasped, “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Mmm, a fox,”

“Book?”

“The Catcher in the Rye,” 

“Do you like coffee?” He asked and added before you could answer, “This one is very important.”

You laugh again, “Oh, is it? Yes, I do, sometimes,” 

Bradley falls silent for a few seconds after that, feeling himself get lost in the way you sounded so sweet and genuine right now. 

“Did I answer it right?” You asked him and he turned onto his side, sliding the hand that wasn’t holding his phone under the pillow. 

“How do you like your coffee?” He asked instead of answering your question, and you didn’t seem to care very much as he was met with your laugh again. 

“I like french vanilla. It’s actually the only way I can drink coffee,” 

Perfect. You were perfect. You sounded perfect. 

He felt like he didn’t deserve to be talking to you like this or even to be talking to you in general. Bradley has always messed with things that didn’t need to be messed with and almost always ended up ruining it, and he really didn’t want to do that with you. 

But he didn’t want to end the call so soon. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“That’s a tough one,” you mumbled and he could hear you holding back a yawn. 

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” He teased and you huff out a laugh.

“No, not at all. I’m just in bed right now and I guess my head automatically thinks I’m supposed to be sleeping,” you say in a quiet voice. “Um, my favorite movie…oh, I Know What You Did Last Summer.”

Bradley laughed at that. “A 90s slasher? Why am I not surprised?” 

“Hey, you asked,” 

You and he ended up talking for a while after that until you eventually had to go to sleep. He ended the call before getting up and putting the ticket from the gardens back on the board, looking at it for a few seconds afterwards. 

By the time he plugged his phone in and got under his covers, Bradley realized that he was no longer mad or annoyed about what happened with Bri, and that you had successfully calmed him down with just your voice. 

He hadn’t felt this way about anyone in his entire life, and not once did he ever feel like this about Bri. He knew he needed to tell Wes and Eli that he was done with Bri and that although he was hanging out with you, it wasn’t because he made a bet on you. 

He assumed they would be checking in on how things were going with the bet soon, and even though he had that brief conversation with Eli the other day about you, he knew it wasn’t enough to have him believing that Bradley’s intentions with you were pure. 

And maybe they weren’t in the beginning, maybe he went to those gardens with you after Bri broke up with him just to spite her, but it wasn’t like that now. He knew that, he just had to make the guys believe it, too.

[pfctipper]

Martin Taylor, ed. Lads: Love Poetry of the Trenches (1989) on the relationship between officers and their men during the First World War (+ HBO war extracts that I can't stop thinking about in relation under the cut)

Letter from Floyd Talbert, dated 1945: 'Dick that is the reason you are loved and will never be forgotten by any soldier that ever served under you, or I might say with you; because that is the way I felt ... you are the best friend I ever had and I only wish we could have been on a different basis. You were my ideal, and motor in combat ... Well you know now why I would follow you into hell.'

Bill Sloan, Brotherhood of Heroes: The Marines at Peleliu (2005): ‘[Dick] Higgins got back to the command post and saw Haldane’s gear piled where he’d hurriedly dumped it before going up on the ridge. Then, without warning, Higgins went to pieces. He fell to the ground, screaming, swearing, and sobbing uncontrollably. “All at once, it hit me, and I totally lost it. They sent me to sick bay for four days, and the doctors advised me not to go back on duty even then, but I insisted. It was better to be doing something than just sitting there.”

Eugene Sledge, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa (1981): 'As I struggled along feeling chilled and forlorn and trying to keep my balance in the mud, a big man came striding from the rear of the column. He walked with the ease of a pedestrian on a city sidewalk. As he pulled abreast of me, the man looked at me and said, “Lovely weather, isn’t it, son?” I grinned at Haldane and said, “Not exactly, sir" ... He wanted to know all about my family, home, and education. As we talked the gloom seemed to disappear, and I felt warm inside. Finally he told me it wouldn’t rain forever, and we could get dry soon. He moved along the column talking to other men as he had to me. His sincere interest in each of us as a human being helped to dispel the feeling that we were just animals training to fight.'

Larry Alexander, Biggest Brother: The Life Of Major Dick Winters (2005): Winters' philosophy of dealing with his men and keeping up morale and fighting spirit was to move among them. One damp, dreary morning he noticed Private Clarence S. Howell manning a machine gun outpost and looking thoroughly miserable. The men had been marching and fighting mock battles for twenty-four hours nonstop. Howell, like the rest, was tired, wet, cold and hungry. As Winters watched, Howell fished a photograph from a pocket and stared down at it. "How's it going, Shep?" Winters asked, kneeling next to the young soldier. "Fine, sir," he replied, still looking at the photo. "What's that?" Winters asked. "A picture from home?" "Yes, sir," Howell said, showing it to Winters. It was a young woman. "My girl," he added, as if he felt he had to explain. "She's very pretty, Shep," Winters said, examining the smiling young face. "You must miss her. Are you two planning to tie the knot?" "Yes, sir," he answered, studying the photo again. "I was just wondering how long it'll be until I can get back to her, or even if I'll ever see her again." "You will," Winters said, patting the man's shoulder. "Just keep your mind focused on your job. You're a good man, Shep. Hang tough."

[13as07]

Patience #3

(Jiraiya Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to unknown]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,453

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nicknames/Name Calling: Little One, Sensei, Sweet Girl, Princess, Sweetheart, Obedient Girl, Sir, Sex Addict

Exhibitionism (public sex)

Age Gap/Power Indifference (teacher/student)

Creampie

Little rougher domination

Spanking

Improper use of a hairbrush (yes, like that. Sorry, not sorry)

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     The skin of my chest burns as it rubs against the tree bark. Sensei's big hands are wrapped around mine, pressing our hands against the tree. His head is rested against mine, praises spilling from his lips as he ruts into me. Jiraiya's voice is breathy as he speaks, huffs of oxygen mixing with my praises.

     "Little One?" He whispers into my ear, his hot breath tickling me as he speaks.

     "Sensei?" I whisper back, my focus stuck on the village gates. They're less than twenty feet away and very much in view, which means we're very much in view.

     Kisses brush against my head, the soft touches tucked behind my ear. A moan bubbles in my throat from the soft touch, a nice counter to Jiraiya's dick bullying itself in my pussy. "We... we can't..." he mutters, thrusts getting sloppy.

     "We can't what?" I ask, shifting my hips backward to match Jiraiya's thrusts. The past twenty-four hours have been almost nonstop sex. Sensei seems desperate for me, even more desperate than I am for him most days. I like when he's like this when he's so hungry for me.

     "We can't... be all over each other," he mutters, shoving me forward as he bottoms out. This is a new thing for us too, Sensei filling me up. Ever since Jiraiya's infertility confusion earlier this week, he's been more than eager to fill my cunt every chance he gets.

     "Why not?" I whine, pussy clenching in an attempt to keep Jiraiya inside me. It doesn't work, his cum leaks down my legs, coating me both inside and outside.

     His fingers dip down, scooping up what has spilled out before shoving it back into me. "It's unprofessional, Sweet Girl. Besides, I need to talk to Tsunade about... this." I whine again, a mixed response from the fingers curling in me and Sensei's words. He chuckles at my whine, kisses pressed into my clothed shoulder blades. "You're fine, Sweet Girl."

     Jiraiya's hands move to cup my hips, squeezing me before he fixes my clothing. Kisses litter me as I'm shuffled forward, Sensei's hands grab at any part of me he can get to. "Sensei?" I hum, the feeling of him leaking out of me again causing shivers down my spine. "You're pretty all over me for it being 'unprofessional'," I tease, a smile playing on my lips.

     "Hush Princess," he mutters against my skin, head picking up to scan the gate entrance. When no one falls into view, Jiraiya's head dips back down to suck another bruise onto my throat. His hands swoop down, toying with my clothed pussy as he slowly moved us forward.

     Yearning seeps from my Sensei, even as he pulls away from me. "Sensei," I purr, wrapping myself around his arm, making sure his fingers still ghost over my core. "Are you going to ignore me again?" I make sure my pout is evident, tilting my head and poking my lip out. "What if I get needy? Then who am I supposed to do?"

     I know what's running through his head. I know the memory of our bathroom quickie is rolling around that noggin of his. At the time, I couldn't tell Jiraiya being upset was from jealousy, but the environment of the rest of the work dinner made that clear. I have full intentions to use Sensei's jealousy to get what I want, only if he puts off talking to Lady Tsunade too long of course.

     His hand tugs out of my hold, gripping my face and forcing me to look into his eyes. "Don't you dare," he hisses, eyes intense and daring as he looks back at me. "Go ahead, try your little act. See how far that gets you. See how empty everyone else makes you feel compared to your Sensei." The last sentence is whispered in my ear as Jiraiya's fingers cling to my cheeks.

     When he pulls away, his eyes are still tense, the same tenseness they have while he's buried deep in me. "I'm just kidding, Sensei," I mutter, my hands clinging to his arm, trying to tug his hold off my face.

     My eyes flicker down to my fingers, getting my head shoved upward so our eyes are locked again. "Joke like that again and I'll beat your ass back into obedience, you understand me?"

     "Yes Sensei," I whisper, rubbing my thighs together. I like how gentle and soft Jiraiya treats me, but seeing him this wound up is sexy.

     "That's my Sweetheart," he coos, the sparkle of his eyes coming back as he pecks my nose. "Be an Obedient Girl."

     "Yes Sensei," I repeat, my obedience being rewarded by the lack of a grip on my face.

     I scurry after Jiraiya, a step or two behind him as he leads our way through the village. "Sensei, where are we going?" I ask, skipping forward a bit to grip the back of his shirt.

     His steps slow down a tad, letting me press my hands against his back. "We have to report to Tsunade, Little One."

     "That's boring," I murmur, tapping my fingers against him in different patterns, a way to work out my nerves. "Are you going to talk to her while we're there? About us?"

     "No."

     "Why not?" I whine, switching back to clinging to his clothing.

     A chuckle brews in his chest, echoing out and pulling the attention of some of the civilians to us. "You don't need to be present during that conversation, Sweet Girl. Don't worry your pretty little mind, I'll talk to her soon, have some patience."

     "Promise?"

     "Promise."

                       ————————————

     My lips are captured again, rubbing against god knows who, and god knows I don't care who. "You're hot," the man mumbles against my mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips to wrap around mine.

     "Thank you," I giggle, tugging away from the man. He smiles at me, his pearly whites making his brown eyes shine more. His eyes jump around my body as his hands slide under my shirt, fingertips clinging to my sides. "So, what are you doing at the Hokage palace?" I ask, shifting my head around.

     I busy myself, nuzzling his shirt collar out of the way before latching to the skin of his throat. "I'm... a... ah... bodyguard." The answer comes out as the question, the man's hands dipping into my sides even more.

     "Oh ya? For who?" I ask, eyes shifting up to take in the man's face. His skin is smooth and almost pale, making the chocolate shading of his eyes and hair stand out. He's a pretty boy, definitely not someone I could see as a bodyguard.

     "The Hokage."

     "You're Lady Tsunade’s bodyguard?" I grumble, standing up straight again.

     "Ya. Why are you here?" He asks in return, body leaning against me more to push me further into the wall.

     As I predicted, Jiraiya still hasn't talked to Tsunade despite the fact we've been home for a few days. With us being home, we've been busy from sun up to sun down. Old students, members of the Anbu core, follow Shinobis, fans of Jiraiya's books, and everything in between eats up all our time, leaving me even less limited time with my Sensei.

     That paired with Sensei not wanting to be all over me - or over me at all - leaves me with no attention except when we're at one of our homes. Even then, we're usually too tired or Jiraiya is too busy with whatever project Tsunade has him working on to pay me much attention. Hence, the random bodyguard all over me in a deserted hallway of the palace.

     "Jiraiya is having a meeting with the Anbu Chief," I answer, wrapping my hands around the bodyguard's belt, making sure my fingertips dip between it and his pants.

     The Shinobi's eyes widen as his breath hicks. "Are you one of Jiraiya's students?" He mutters, fingers sliding up to dip under the underwire of my bra. I hum a yes, playfully tugging on his belt as I bite my bottom lip.

     Jiraiya and I aren't together. He hasn't asked to be with me, to take me on a date, to be exclusive. We're just coworkers, teacher and student, fuck buddies. We haven't spent any time together besides work or sex. Sensei isn't holding up his end of the fuck buddy deal, so why not find that attention somewhere else?

     "Ya, I'm his newest student, Sir," I mumble, flickering my eyes up as my fingertips slide to the buckle of his belt. I soften my eyes, doing the doe shape Jiraiya likes so much as I look up at the man. "Is that an issue?"

     "You're... where's your ID badge?" He mutters, hand jumping down to grip my wrist. His face is paler than before, lips set tight as he looks down at me.

     "Why?" I ask, tugging my ID out of my pocket and showing it to him.

     His eyes scan it, face shifting to a calmed expression as he exhales. "Jiraya tends to teach fresh from the academy kids," the bodyguard mutters, his grip on my wrist going soft.

     "Oh my God. You thought... oh my."

     "No!" He yelps, face flushed. His hands press to the wall next to my head, keeping me trapped by his frame. "Well not at first but when you said you were training under Jiraiya I just... I wanted to be sure you weren't... I'm not a pervert," his words are rushed, his face getting redder the more he speaks.

     "Could convince me otherwise," Jiraya's voice booms through the hallway, startling the both of us.

     "Hi, Sensei," I call, ducking my sights under the bodyguard's arm in search of Jiraiya. He's fuming, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set, eyes hard, and smoke almost visibly shooting out his ears. "How was your meeting?"

     My question is ignored. Instead, Sensei marches down the hallway, anger bubbling off of him the closer he gets. "Jiraya, Sannin, sir," the bodyguard races out, body dipping in a bow once he pulls away from me.

     "Genma," Jiraya calls back, glare still set on me. "My student is too young for you."

     "She's only... ten years younger... sir," The Genma guy answers, still bowing, eyes locked on the ground.

     "That's not so bad, Sensei," I pipe up, smiling up at him as I mock his stance. "After all, you're thirty years older than me."

     "Ya, well, I don't have you pinned to the Hokage Palace wall, rubbing my boner against you," Jiraiya hisses, bending down so we're eye to eye. My smile widens as I snap my mouth open to answer. Sensei beats me to it, hand covering my mouth to cut off my response. "You're being a disgraceful shinobi," he berates, a warning to fall back in line shoved toward me through his eyes.

     "Sannin, sir?" Genma interrupts, standing straight now.

     "Get out of my presence," Sensei grumbles, sights still set on me.

     "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The bodyguard rushes out before scurrying down the hallway, leaving me alone with a very pissed-off Jiraiya.

     I pull back from my Sensei, set on pushing out a berate of my own before I'm stopped again. "You know good and well you'd be thrilled to be humping me against the wall too. Or maybe not, since you seem to not be into me anymore."

     "Little One," he calls, tone warning as his hand jumps forward to cling to my face. "If I had it my way, we'd be locked up in my house for the next week doing nothing but practicing scenarios for my new book, but," he scuffs, tugging my face closer so we're nose to nose. "We have a very important job for our village. I cannot drop everything every time your pussy aches for attention. Stop acting like a spoiled Princess."

     "You haven't paid any attention to me, Jiraya," I huff, shifting my head to the side. "You said you'd talk to Tsunade but you haven't. It's all your fault we're not having sex, much less anything else. I can live awhile without you in me but you won't give me any undivided attention."

     "Oh ya? Is that your issue Sweet Girl? Is that why you're acting out?" Sensei grumbles, forcing my attention back to him. "You miss me? You miss my attention? My dick, you sex addict? You miss my little kisses and touches? You miss our dinners alone?"

     "Yes," I whine, pouting as I cling to my Sensei's arm. "Like me back, Jiraiya. Pay attention to me." I feel like a baby, whining for his attention, for his time. I'm sure I look like a toddler throwing a tantrum because my high-ranked teacher doesn't have time for special treatment. "Like me back," I repeat, settling my sights on his eyes. They've gone soft, their glint back as he looks down at me smugly.

     "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I know I've been busy," he coos, his hold going gentle before he litters my face in soft kisses. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

     "Sure you will," I groan, rolling my eyes at his empty promise.

     "I will, because I like you back," he whispers into my ear, littering my jaw with kisses. "We'll go out tomorrow, okay? A nice dinner all alone, and I'll give you all the attention you want. Just be patient, Sweet Girl."

     "You said that earlier this week. I have been patient. We're not going to get to eat alone, we never do. Hurry up and talk to Tsunade," I whine, trying to tug his hold off my face.

     "I will. Today. I promise," Sensei coos, hand rough against my cheeks again as he coats more of my skin with kisses. "But," he adds on, eyes back to being cold as he looks at me dead on. "Tonight I'm going to beat your ass red since you want to be such an unobedient girl."

     "Why?" I ask, his promise making me tingle as I think about Sensei's big hands making my behind sting.

     "Why?" He chuckles, a wide smile on his face. "Because, Little One, you went and acted like you're on the market for anyone to have. You are mine. My student, my kunoichi, mine, and apparently filling up your tight little cunt and marking you up isn't enough proof for you," he hisses, lips brushing against mine. "You... are... mine." The last three words come out slow and cold, making me tingle even more. "Repeat it."

     "I am yours," I echo, rubbing my thighs together.

     I don't get to keep the simple stimulation, Jiraiya's free hand clinging to my knee to rip my thighs apart. "I have to run an errand for Tsunade. You, Sweetheart, are going to go home, strip, and sit on my bed with your head in my pillows and your ass in the air. You are going to wait, and wait, and wait until I am done. If you even dare to touch yourself, I will overstimulate you until you feel like you can't breathe, am I understood?"

     "Yes, Sensei."

     "There's my Obedient Girl," Jiraiya praises, pecking my lips a few times before he shoves his house keys into my hand. "Use those patience I've taught you."

     "Yes Sensei," I repeat, my arousal quickly building from his words.

     "Sweet Girl," he coos again, giving me a deep kiss before he pulls away from me. "Go home and wait."

                       ————————————

     Jiraiya's bed smells like him, his scent is even more evident with my head buried in his pillows. For once I did what was asked of me, propping my ass up and head down. My hips and knees burn from kneeling on his bed for so long, but the promised arrival of my Sensei has my pussy tingling with anticipation.

     The sound of the front door opening makes me clench. I pulse again when the bedroom door creaks open. "Little One?" Sensei calls cockiness soaked in his words. "There's my Obedient Girl."

     "Welcome home, Sensei," I mumble into his pillows, hands clinging to them. "How was your errand?"

     "It was fine," he mutters, his footsteps filling the room as he walks closer. The bed dips when Jiraiya sits down, causing nerves to rush down my spine. "How has my bedroom been?" He mocks, his fingers light as they run through my folds.

     "Good," I whisper, soaking in the soft touches that have been lacking lately.

     Sensei's fingertips poke just a bit into me, massaging my hole as he toys with me. "You've been very bratty, Sweetheart," he coos, hand skipping up to rub soft circles on my clit. "I'm worried my spoiling of you is making you rotten, Princess."

     "It's not," I whine, shifting my hips backward to try and get his fingers deeper in me.

     Jiraiya's touch is pulled away from me, making me whine even more. "Hush, Little One," he orders, tapping my pussy. He stands up, making the bed shift back into place.

     "Sensei?" I call, shifting so I can watch him through my legs. His back is turned away from me, the sound of him messing with the stuff on his desk filling the room. "What are you doing?"

     "I told you, Sweetheart, I'm going to beat your ass red," he answers, turning back toward me. His hairbrush is wrapped up in his hand, making my pussy pulse again. My knees click shut, trying to cool my neediness.

When Jiraiya gets back to the bed, his free hand slides through my hair, clinging to some of the strands before he shifts my head, face buried in his pillows again. “Stay like that, Sweet Girl. I don’t need the neighbors hearing you,” Sensei mutters, hand sliding out of my hair and running along the bumps of my spine.

Once there are no more bumps to trace, his hand shifts focus to my ass, massaging the tissue of it. Soon the skin-on-skin is replaced by the plastic of the brush. “Sensei!” I yelp, jerking forward.

“Oh, you’re fine spoiled Princess,” he coos, an arm scooping me up by my waist and tugging me back in place. Jiraiya massages the spot, only making the stinging worse. The sound of my second swat fills the room before the new pain coats my behind.

Sensei’s gentleness is nowhere to be found, swat after swat landing on my ass, making my skin tingle and cunt ache. The more I’m spanked the more tears threaten to spill out. “Aw, look at that,” he mocks, his free hand dipping down to run his digits through my folds. “You like this, don’t you, Sweetheart? Your pussy is all wet from your spankings. Let me take care of you, Little One.”

Kisses litter the sore skin, Sensei’s fake attempt to comfort the pain he caused. Despite the promise to get me off, his hand falls away from my core. “Sensei,” I whine, shifting my hips backward again.

“Princess?” He calls back, hard plastic tapping against my hole.

“What are you?!” I yelp, jerking away from him again. My head picks up, hanging between my legs to see what Jiraiya attempted to do.

A huge smirk is curved on his lips, his focus on positioning the handle of the brush back against me. “You need to learn to listen, Little One. I told you I wanted to practice scenarios for my new book.” The shabby explanation is followed by Jiraiya slowly pushing the handle into me, stretching my walls around the hard plastic.

“You’re a pervert,” I mutter, my eyes fluttering shut at the awaited attention, even if it’s not exactly what I wanted.

“I’m not a pervert,” he mutters, thrusting the brush in and out of me, slowly clicking my arousal further. “I can’t write a scene I haven’t acted out, and you, my Sweet Girl, made it very clear you don’t want me doing my research on other women. So, that leaves you.”

Sensei’s free hand falls back down to my pussy, his fingertips brushing over my clit in pace with the plastic being thrust into me. I can feel his eyes wandering me, taking in every moan, whimper, and reaction so he can describe it in his next book. It excites me a bit, to know this moment while forever living on sheets of ink. It also terrifies me since a good amount of the village reads Jiraiya’s books.

“Sensei,” I hiss out, my pussy clenching around the unconventional bedroom toy as my orgasm washes over me.

“Princess,” he coos, kisses littering the back of my legs, mixing with the sensation of his tongue lapping up the mess spilling down my thighs. “This will make a wonderful chapter of my book.”

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[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

[ Click here for “Sounds From A Freak and A Basket Case” ]

All my love to @writhingg and @eddiemunsonmash for some productive workshop sessions that helped me get chapter 2 out.

This was one of my favorite chapters to do, honestly. I loved writing from Eddie’s POV and adding that little bit of spice that was the true Poverty Experience™️. Oh and especially the Lamb Chop references. Today I learned that Lamb Chop was a drunk back in the 70’s.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses), references to the film “Deliverance”

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

[Previous Chapter] — [Master List] — [Next Chapter]

Chapter Two - Made in Heaven

“ When stormy weather comes around

It was made in heaven.

When sunny skies break through behind the clouds

I wish it could last forever… ” - Queen

The ’85-’86 academic year had to be his year.

It had to be.

It was his last shot. The last hoorah. He had just barely made the cutoff age at twenty for his re-attempt, and it was a miracle in itself that Principal Higgins had a modicum of decency to give him a break and let him even try to attend school again. He would be cutting it too close for comfort, and during the summer, Eddie Munson had sworn to his uncle that he would get his head out of his ass this time around. No more screw ups. No more bullshit scams. No more throwing his life away to be something he wasn’t.

He was going to graduate, and once that diploma was in his hands, he was going to get the hell out of Hawkins and live his goddamn life.

That promise was made at the beginning of summer break. Once school ended in the middle of May, all shackles of oppression were off: he was able to sleep in, hotbox the feelings of shame and guilt away in his van, and gorge on junk food during unholy hours of the early morning before passing out until noon. Hello darkness, my old friend.

Now in August, it was back to hell. Uncle Wayne was coming into his room at four thirty in the morning and kicking the mattress, jolting Eddie awake to get dressed. He’d done it, and then instantly fell back asleep until the shrill sound of the radio alarm pierced through his ear drums. Conveniently just before he’d had the chance to fully wake up. Eddie was ready to throw in the fucking towel by the time he threw a half ass lunch together and got into the van, bitter thoughts swarming in his mind.

Fuck it. Kick me out of school. See if I give two shits. Do me a fucking kindness.

It was one of those things one didn’t really mean, but in his heart he knew he could only slam his head against the brick wall so many times before it got old. School was going to get easier, and he was just going to continue getting tired and bored of what he felt was busywork. Since third grade, all work felt like busywork. Eddie could recall the answers in the textbooks and run circles around the teacher in calculus, but with the constant depression, school didn’t hold his interest long enough for him to really care.

He was at the point where he was forgetting what was important.

Last year was a year of losses. Almost losing the Hellfire Club to bullshit blackmail orchestrated by a sadistic son of a bitch of a principal that he did not fully trust. Ronnie had at least reached out via letter after a time, and she sent a few clipped sentences written with an electric typewriter all the way from New York whenever she had enough money left over from dorm expenses to buy postage stamps. But Dougie had gone nuclear. Played nice that one campaign, and then never talked to Eddie again. Whenever Eddie saw the messers Teague in their HVAC truck, Dougie made a point to look the other way. He had never quite forgiven his best friend for what he had almost undone.

And then there was Paige…

Eddie had been thinking of that mess for some reason, nonstop the first day back at school. Paige was probably still doing the same old thing, images of record deals and bigwig execs sucking their penis sized cigars, laughing at a table she headed, danced in his mind’s eye. Almost as if mocking himself, he’d hear: This is what you could have had if you’d just not fucked it up. This is what you could have had if you’d just been a rockstar, not a Munson.

Hawkins wasn’t cursed, Eddie was. Straight up.

After running late, getting stuck behind a green Dodge with wood paneling, battling the commuters during the clusterfuck that constituted rush hour in Hawkins, nearly sideswiping his van when trying to get over into another lane, he was done. He didn’t know why he bothered to hurry anymore. There was nowhere to go, and no money for the gas it cost to get there. Emotions were running high and low, he felt like he was trapped on a broken-down roller coaster at a shoddy side of the road carnival. Wanting to jump off, throw up, scream, and cry all at once as the reality of everything set in.

Eddie Munson had fucked everything up. Lost a potential record deal, lost a girl, and lost friends over his own stupidity. Once in a lifetime opportunities lost to the ages in the year of 1984.

’86 had to be his year. Otherwise, he had nothing else left.

He was on his way to his locker when a string bean of a freshman wearing khakis and a button down polo from the Gap slammed into him from behind. Eddie immediately turned around to catch him before he hit the ground. The kid yelled out at someone as Eddie lifted him by the armpits. After asking the dazed boy if he was okay, Eddie then looked for the attacker in the crowd of students. He assumed it was a jock, it always was, but he saw no suspicious green letterman jackets lurking in the throng of mindless zombies looking to get their class schedules and locker assignments.

Something was different in the air. He could sense it.

There was a gaggle of girls laughing and pointing, but he couldn’t see the object of their teasing. Once he came within five feet of their gaggle, they saw Eddie the Freak and bolted. So far the first day back was shaping up to be one of those weird days. Stopping to piss before homeroom, Eddie was mid stream at the urinal when he heard whispers from the stalls behind him. Vitriol most vile of some bitch that had run crying in the girl’s bathroom. Between farts, the other guys described a curly haired dork dressed for a cold front in August apparently was trying to terrorize the school.

“She’s some gap-toothed bitch of a basket case.” One of them said, “Ugly as hell too.”

For obvious reasons, Eddie was intrigued. A gap-toothed bitch of a basket case was new. Especially ones wearing winter coats in summer when the humidity drowned you before the heat got to you. He doubted there was any merit to the rumor that she was ugly, truth be told, but he had to see it for himself. Zipping his fly and giving his hands a careless rinse, he immediately vacated the bathroom to conduct his research. The journey to find the bitch took him high and low, and he decided to ditch his first period class to see if he could catch a glimpse.

Fifteen minutes had gone by, and there was no sign of her anywhere. Sighing, he made up his mind that maybe he’d misheard the whispers. Maybe it was just some bullshit that two morons made up in the spur of the moment.

And then like an answer to his prayers he heard a siren call:

Metallica on cassette. Kill ‘Em All Album. Side 1. Approximately thirty nine minutes and six seconds into the album. Track number nine. Seek and Destroy.

Blasting so goddamned loud that from his distance it sounded faint, but he knew that whoever was listening to it directly would be deaf before their twenty-first birthday.

He saw a short girl beelining passed him for the front door, and instantly Eddie was fascinated.

Ah ha! Speak of the devil, there was the little basket case herself.

Sure enough, she was all bundled up in her jacket like a blue collar worker braving a blizzard, gray skirt swishing as she power walked down the hall. The music beckoned to him, and the Black Sabbath patch on her blue backpack encouraged him to follow. Despite the stormy look on the girl’s face and the fuck off aura radiating from her, Eddie couldn’t help but allow the admiration to take over.

Seek and Destroy was one of Eddie’s screaming vents to the ether when the world pulled down its drawers and took a shit on him.

He wondered if the world had done the same to her.

He wasn’t intimidated, he wasn’t repulsed by her demeanor or appearance. Quite the contrary, Eddie could see something in the way the girl’s body communicated to the world:

She wasn’t a bitch, or a basket case. This was one of his little lost sheep. A lost, pathetic little lamb. Bleeding from the heart. Trying to butt heads with everyone and everything, unaware that the world was fanged and scary, and it could spit her out in a malformed bolus should it so desire. And yet she was still trying to fight back.

It was as if his body was moving of his own accord. His heart knew before his brain could logically process what was happening. A compulsion— his inner wild child— sent signals to his feet to quicken his pace as he raced after her. Adrenaline was coursing through him as he heard nothing but the steady pace of her gait matching the pulse of Seek and Destroy. Eddie didn’t stop until he was so close to her, he was breathing in her scent.

Fresh lemons.

Citrusy.

Sugary.

Delectable.

In a sudden burst of confidence, both hands flashed out and snatched her by the backpack straps, yanking her up until she was flush against him. He pulled off her headphones, getting in close until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess. Metallica, right?”

“FUCK ME FREDDY!” She bleated.

Her scream cut him off, and he held onto the girl like he was holding a wild stallion steady. Nearly went up with her when she jumped like a frog. Eddie kept her pressed to his chest, her own heaving with fear.

“You scared the shit out of me!” She cried.

Laughing hard, he spun her around to face him, hands steadying her broad shoulders as he smiled in her face.

“Sorry, sorry… Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you there. But hey, at least that got your attention, right?” He grinned.

The girl hit the Walkman’s pause button and killed the music, looking up with a stormy and defiant expression. Her eyes, minimized by the thick coke bottle lenses within the frames of her glasses, began to soften when she looked at him. He could see the tightly wound tension leave her body. The facade was slipping. Before him was an individual army crawling through hell to survive.

“You uh… you heard my music, huh?” She murmured.

Eddie nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah. From all the way down the hall. You like Metallica?” he asked.

“Uh huh…”

He gave another full dimple smile at the shy answer. Adorable.

“Hell yeah, good taste. Metallica is one of my favorites too.” He replied, “Let me guess, you had someone show you their music, right?”

There was a brief hesitation as she gathered her thoughts.

“… Kind of. A lot of my tios- my uncles- like their music. My brother likes them too.”

“Older or younger brother?” Eddie asked.

“Older…”

“He get you into metal?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She said, “He started me on Black Sabbath and Ozzy when I was a kid. Um, and they’re my favorites. My dad was the one who showed me Alice Cooper, and Mötley Crüe…”

“Rad… your dad and your brother got you set up with the best of the best.”

He noticed she wasn’t much for eye contact. As hard as he tried to meet her gaze, she wouldn’t look right at him. It seemed as if she was closing herself off from everyone, a purposeful and calculated act. Understandable if Eddie was being honest. The girl’s eyes were red rimmed, nose still red and dripping like a moistened cherry, and her thick glasses were smudged with tears.

The morning must not have been kind. For a moment he saw her vulnerability in her sorrows, and he remembered that she was just a lost little lamb.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said gently, holding out his hand as the chainlinks on his bracelet clinked.

The lamb cocked her head to the side, sweet little face looking up at him as if expecting a trick.

“Eddie?”

“Yup.”

Eddie playfully popped the consonant at the end, and he tried to give a sweet disarming smile to show his sincerity.

“That’s me… Eddie Munson. Hi.”

Gently, slowly, he felt a warm, shaky hand envelop his. He shook it just enough; not too firm of a handshake that he scared her off, but not so weak that it seemed he didn’t want to touch her. Because, if the way his heart was racing was any indication, he very much did want to touch her, and some part of him yet wanted her to know it.

After gulping, clearing her throat, and glancing briefly up at him with wide, brown eyes, she finally spoke up.

“My favorite person in the whole wide world is an Eddie…” the lamb mumbled softly.

“Yeah? Who’s this other Eddie?” He raised an eyebrow, dimples showing with the big cheeser he had on his face.

He noticed she wasn’t in any big hurry to let go of his hand. His ringed fingers squeezed her hand to ecourage her.

“Um… uh…” she attempted.

God… she was so cute when she was scared. She had that soft murmur like the little drunk sock puppet lamb that Eddie loved as a kid. What the hell was its name…?

“Eddie V-… Eddie Van Halen…” she stammered.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped. Eddie Van Halen was a fucking god among men. His guitar skills were phenomenal, and Van Halen was also the reason why Eddie had gotten punished with the buzz cut in middle school. After that, Eddie tried growing it out again, finally successful.

“No way, are you shitting me right now?” he demanded.

Lamb shook her head.

“No… I’ve seen him live… he’s… he’s really cool.”

Inhale through the nose, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth so he didn’t start having a heart attack.

“How the hell did you end up going to one of those concerts?” He managed.

“… my dad. He took me for an early birthday present…”

So okay… skittish little lamb evidently had good taste in music, had a dad that took her to concerts like Van Halen as an early birthday present, and was just parading around the school halls unattended?!

“They were pit side. I got one of the shirts at my house.” She continued, oblivious to his existential crisis.

God dammit… No. There’s no way. There’s no way in the hell that this little thing in the brown jacket was real…

“Which concert was it?” He croaked tentatively.

“The 1984 tour last year… I saw them and Autograph play… Live in Albuquerque.”

He had to stop her right there.

“Okay wait… Just wha— hold on, your dad seriously took you out of Indiana all the way into the middle of nowhere in buttfuck Albuquerque, New Mexico just to see Van Halen… for your birthday?!”

He would have known if some girl from Hawkins was going out of state for Van Fucking Halen’s 1984 tour for their sixth studio album. Both him and Ronnie had been trying to scrounge up money for tickets, but between the two of them selling the last of their food stamps, they’d still managed to come up short. The first leg of the tour didn’t come closer than Roanoke, but when the concert started migrating towards Indianapolis, the rent on the Forest Hills lots experienced a price hike. Because Ronnie and Eddie had still wanted to come home to a roof over their heads every day, they had given up on trying to make it to the show in Indy and forfeited the cash to Wayne and Granny Ecker.

Meanwhile, this girl had been right there in the middle of the action. Basking in David Lee Roth’s versatile vocal range and listening to Van Halen himself shred the shit out of his Fender.

“Wait, wait…” he suddenly realized she said she had seen them in Albuquerque, not in Indianapolis.

“They came to Indiana three times, and you went to New Mexico?! How in hell did your dad figure going to a whole different state to see Van Halen play was a feasible option?! That’s a twelve hour drive at least!” Eddie demanded.

“I used to live in New Mexico, like… not that far from Albuquerque.” She said softly. “I’m not from here…”

Yeah, yeah of course she wasn’t from Hawkins. Eddie should have figured. There was no way in shit someone as cool as this little lamb, someone who had been pit side to Van Halen, could be from Indiana. It almost gave him flashbacks to shades of his ex, and he nearly wanted to pull away from the conversation entirely. Don’t go messing around with out-of-town ass, Jeff had told him. In fact, none of his crew even wanted him to start messing around with any kind of ass again after he’d been trying to uproot his life for a woman.

Yet this one was so quiet, and at the very least they were both on the same high school turf. Couldn’t they at least be friends? Even if he was still uncertain about the potential age gap problems, he knew if he let this sweet face just become a random anecdote in the annals of time, he would be throwing up for weeks and contemplating the jump into traffic. Especially if he saw her being poached by someone else, and God help him if the goons on the basketball team sniffed her out. Big guys that threw around their athletic power climbed over hot coals to bang short chicks, and a new girl who had no status was open season.

He pressed on. Heart racing and trying to maintain his composure so that he didn’t spook her.

“You’re from New Mexico?” Eddie asked.

She nodded.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t have the accent for it.” Eddie said, leaning up against one of the tan lockers.

The lamb hesitated and bit her lower lip, nodding and rocking side to side on her feet as she began to pluck at the loose threads of her jacket cuff.

“… people here don’t like to hear it. So I cover it up…” she mumbled.

Eddie let out a puff of air in annoyance.

“It’s not worth going to the trouble… You’re in Hicksville now. Hawkins isn’t the first narrow-minded white bread town, and it’s not going to be the last.” He said, waving his hand absently for emphasis, “You already have like, what, three strikes for being new, being tan, and being a chick. Sorry to say their club is restricted— if you know what I mean— couldn’t get in even if you tried. Hell, I don’t even fit in. I don’t doubt you’ll get the same amount of bullshit I do.”

“You…?” The lamb blinked, confusion written on her face, “Why would anyone make fun of you?”

Harsh laughter erupted from his throat, and he was so consumed by the absurdity of the question that he didn’t notice her flinch backward.

As if he was being crucified, Eddie held out his arms dramatically wide, his battle vest opening up to show off his Led Zeppelin baseball tee dotted with holes where the fabric had worn down from the friction between the fabric and his jean rivets.

“Take a good look at ‘Eddie The Freak’, lamb chop.” He said, voice lowering an octave and taking on a nondescript tone in the way that one might try to imitate a psychiatrist giving a mental health diagnosis.

“I’m a long haired, satan worshiping cult leader. I play disgraceful Pantera and Slayer covers in a dive bar for maybe two perpetually sloshed deadbeats and three cockroaches. I deal speed and grass to the preppy kids that have more money than sense. I lure innocents into my nonexistent basement to play my little satanic games where we sacrifice animals and engage in sodomy, and then I hotbox it in my van afterwards.”

He went on and on, the word vomit not stopping. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew this potential thing the two had going on was dead on arrival from the moment this princess opened her purty little rose pink mouth and started talking about Van Halen.

“I’m a Munson, not a schoolboy. And Munsons are not proper Hawkins pedigree. No, no, we Munsons drop out of high school and go to jail young, and we die young in some tragic accident that leaves our kids orphaned bastards.”

She was way out of his league. From what he gathered this girl had money— or at least her dad did— if he was able to take her to shit like Van Halen concerts. Something Eddie could only dream of. Everything about this whole interaction was scary. It was scary and horrifying and the only thing he could think of doing was self sabotaging and scaring off this pretty faced lamb before he got too attached to her.

And then she frowned, still looking at the floor. It took time until she finally spoke up, looking him directly in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make no sense… Sounds like a bunch of horseshit to me.” She said.

He watched it all happen so suddenly and he couldn’t look away. His large brown eyes widening and his heart turning cartwheels in his chest when he saw the little twinkles of light, the little pinpricks of stars beginning to glimmer in her eyes as the new girl held direct eye contact with him. It wasn’t just that she was cute, because Jesus H. Christ,she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. She had so many lovely qualities: an eleven inch height difference, a round face, Rick Moranis type glasses, and the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes that glimmered, like amber cognac, in the sunlight filtering through the double doors of the school.

There was also honest to god romance novel pining on her face, soft lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but had lost the words. Her body moved in closer to him, and his own reciprocated purely on instinct, inviting her into his space.

Magnetism.

Pure, unadulterated magnetism.

“None of it makes any sense does it?” He said, voice so low his lamb chop had to lean further in to hear him, “But this is Hawkins. Judgemental jackanapes abound and people like you and me are lambasted for the crime of being different. Double for you I’m guessing, since you’re the new Hispanic kid in town.”

She nodded, very solemn.

“But you know what? Right now, you are the coolest fucking person in all of Hawkins.” Eddie praised.

The solemnity on the lamb’s face became joy. He wished he had complimented her sooner, because now that he had her giggling, he caught a glimpse of a huge gap between her front teeth.

“… and that’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there. And a cute laugh to match.” He smiled.

“Quit it…” she chuckled.

“Hell no, you can’t just tell me to quit it the second I give you a compliment. Gotta take the compliments where you get them. So take it.”

There was that imperfect smile again, flashing the gap and letting loose that goddamned cute giggle. The reaction he wanted. The lamb covered up her mouth as she began to shake from trying to contain the giggles. Eddie loved people like her. Naturally giddy, as if they had taken a fat hit of reefer and had the permanent giggles. But he didn’t like how she was trying to hide those gap teeth from him. He wanted to see it. Wanted to see that smile and bask in the good feeling it gave him.

“Ah ah, none of that!” He scolded, holding up a finger, “You quit hiding that pretty face from me.”

“Nuh uh!” She giggled.

“What? You don’t want me to see your teeth?”

“No!” She said, scrunching up into a ball, “No…”

A devilish grin came over Eddie’s face.

“You gonna make me get forceful here?”

“Noooooo…!” The girl whined, laughing harder as she quickly shook her head.

Eddie creeped closer. Hands to his face and fingers wriggling in anticipation.

“You knock it off, now.” He joked, his new cadence not unlike the hicks in that one John Boorman film, “Git that hand down girl, lemme see that purty mouth.”

Eddie began to wrestle the girl’s hands from her face. The squeal of delight made him holler, laughing at the moment he was having.

“Stop! Stop!” She begged, face red, “Uncle, uncle, uncle!”

“Squeal piggy, weeeeeee! Weeeeeeee!” He cried, and she gasped when it dawned on her what terrible movie he was referencing.

There was a pause, and Eddie wondered if he’d just fucked everything up with his bad Deliverance jokes.

“A la maquina!” She exclaimed, her grin huge, “You are fucked up!”

She started laughing and trying to pull away, and Eddie realized this one’s humor was just as fucked up and dark as his was.

This was heaven. He was enjoying this, enjoying the feeling of giving in to his compulsive behavior, and not having his face slapped or being punched in the stomach for it. Instead Eddie’s lamb welcomed his touch, almost craved it. She flew into a fit of hysterical laughter when he played dirty and grabbed her by the sides, tickling her pliant abdomen so that she was forced to move her hands away from her face to shield her pudgy belly.

At the end of it, Eddie was breathless with laughter, holding the girl’s sides and swaying. Coming down from the fun, he saw the full extent of that smile for the first time. No pearly whites. Just the huge, glaring gap and yellowed edges from where the toothbrush missed.

Something real… When you find it, you can’t look away…

This was real. Eddie holding this girl by the love handles was very much real. She was warm and soft and real underneath his fingertips.

“Sweet thing.” he breathed.

The lamb cocked her head, swaying side to side as she gave him a big smile. Her eyelashes were even batting at him, and they were so thick he was again reminded of the sock puppet lamb…

“There we go.” He said softly, stroking her sides, “There’s that smile. See? Much better when you’re not hiding it behind your hands.”

“My dad calls it my Elton John face.”

“He does?” Eddie grinned.

“Yeah… y’know… because of the gap. He and my brother used to call me Honky Cat when I was eleven…”

Eddie burst out laughing.

“Honky Cat?! Oh my god… that’s goddamned adorable.”

They both laughed aloud, swaying together in each other’s arms.

“Is that your name?” He asked, getting into her face and using an exaggerated southern twang, “Are you not a sweet thang? You a Honky Cat?”

Her eyes were shimmering. There were stars in them. Whole galaxies that looked at him with sincere awe.

He’d only ever seen hungry eyes before. Only ever been desired like one desired a succulent steak or a rich slice of cake. Paige’s glance had been predatory, hungry like her mama did not bother to feed her. Last year felt like he was giving up so many vital aspects of himself trying to appeal to that hungry gaze.

He felt like an imposter. Trying to change his image so the hungry gaze wouldn’t turn away from him. He thought he wanted it, a smidgeon of acceptance and a shot at a better life. But like always, everyone had taken from him; gnawing at the bones of his exquisite corpse until there was nothing left.

Paige looked at me like she wanted to eat me…

But you…

“-jandra…” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

He leaned in closer. She was red faced, twirling a lock of brown hair already curling even though it was evident she had gone through great lengths to style her hairdo straight.

“Aleja-... um… uh… Alexandra.” the lamb said, then quickly clarified when he looked at her funny, “I forgot to-… My name is Alexandra Perea. But uh, you can call me Alex…”

He frowned a little. She was holding something back. He clocked it immediately: that wasn’t her name.

“Is that really your name…?” Eddie asked.

“Kind of.” she admitted, “Um, it’s uh… It’s what everyone around here calls me, anyway.”

“What is it like, your white name or some shit like that?”

She nodded. Looked embarrassed. Like she’d gotten caught.

“What about your real name?” he insisted, “The one on your birth certificate?”

“It’s uh… It’s Alejandra.” she said.

“And do you want to be called that?”

“I don’t really care…”

“No, you need to tell me so I’m making sure I’m calling you by the right name.” he insisted, shaking his head, “Everyone always calls me Junior, or freak, or fucking Eds. Anything except what I tell them I want to be called. Makes me mad as hell. So tell me… what do you want to be called?”

“I dunno… I… well, maybe.”

He tested the name. Alejandra. Even butchered to hell, it was sweet on his tongue.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to be called anything else?” he asked, looking her in the eye.

Alejandra paused, and then shrugged.

“Okay, well then… I’ll call you Alejandra.” Eddie said, a confident smile on his face, “It suits you. I like it. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find something fun to call you later on, if you’d like me to, of course.”

There was that look again. As if she were awestruck by him, and as shocking as the feeling was, it made him feel beautiful for a split second. He felt important. He felt valued, like he’d been the epitome of good alignment his whole life and the chaotic parts of it didn’t matter.

Alejandra looked at him like she was seeing a mythical hero. As if her village was burning to the ground all around her and he’d just come in the nick of time, clad in mithril armor, immune to the flames and devastation and ready to swoop her off her feet.

But that defiance when she first faced him, the fire, it was a strength. A raw untapped power he was drawn to. Realistically he knew if he were to swoop in it wouldn’t be to save Alejandra. It would be to help this poor, mousy girl pick up her own sword and fight alongside him.

He wanted that. He wanted someone to face the demons of the past alongside him.

Eddie wanted that someone to be her.

“ Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic. ” - Frank Herbert

[ac3may]

“ the wag diaries ”

How You Met

~ Millie Bright ~

~~~~~~~~~~

• for the first time since you were sixteen you were single

• and you had anticipated it'd stay that way for at least a year

• but when millie bright walked into your life all the hesitancy in the world couldn't stop the inevitable

• growing up in a single father household in Kingston you had been raised a Chelsea fan

• no matter how much your toxic Brummie boyfriend turned baby daddy turned husband turned ex tried to switch you Villa

• having gone through a recent divorce and sexual awakening you were trying to navigate your new life as a single mum of three

• with inherited new funds and incoming child support your first instinct was to do something spontaneous

• something you never could have before

• with your youngest barely able to hold his head up

• your eldest daughter a football fanatic nonstop talking about the upcoming world cup

• and your middle girl obsessed with all wildlife, and a particular new interest in sea turtles, the answer seemed obvious to you

• hopping online you had one goal and within an afternoon had secured flights to spend the entire summer in australia

• for your family being in australia and not watching the Women’s World Cup would have been a travesty

• so you secured tickets to the first England group game and the final

• within a week of arrival you were all sat in matching jerseys, front row, awaiting the England vs Haiti kick-off

• flags and signs waving in the air ecstatically it was no surprise your littles were noticed

• by the cameras

• but also by the team themselves

• Georgia directed her celebrations first to her family and friends, but secondly to the two young blondes going crazy goalside (aka your daughters)

• after the match all the lionesses made their way around the pitch, spending extra time in the fan section where the four of you collected a number of signatures

• the absolute adoration on the captains face as she caught your eye for the first time was unmissable to her best friend

• Rachel joining her side immediately to distracted and entertain the kids beside you

• having gone through a somewhat recent breakup herself Millie had found herself a bit of a player in recent months

• so when her charm isn't so quick to work with you she falters

• somehow your total oblivion is even more adorably endearing to the older blonde

• it’s not intentional of course, you simply hadn't had enough experience flirting to recognise it

• especially from an International footballer!

• you agree to spend her recovery day with her, knowing just how many irreplaceable memories it'd create for your kids (and maybe you a little too)

• spending the day behind the scenes at australia zoo with the lionesses was more than you could have dreamed

• football for Kolby, animals for Ayla, and twenty-three football players all dotting attention on Lex

• other than exchanging numbers at the end of the day nothing romantic happens that day

• but Millie was unable to ignore her obvious attraction to you

• texts between you becoming increasingly common and tickets to all matches being offered

• it took longer than either would've liked but eventually Millie found a free hour and a teammate willing to babysit

• a sunrise beach walk with coffee in hand was too romantic for even you to ignore the signs of

• somehow you became groupies, discovering the country while following the team to every game

• falling for Millie came surprisingly easily

• watching the way she bonded with your children was heart melting

• and just a glance in your direction had you pinching yourself

• how was this your real life after the shit deal you'd been dealt so far?!

• she felt the same way though, not believing someone like you had walked into her life and xoukd be interested in her

• semi-final celebrations were moments of dreams

• neither of you being found too far away from the other at the after party

• ending the night on the beach, both a little tipsy, laid watching the stars, you finally share your first kiss

• the labels of your relationship not coming at quite as happy a moment

• england had just come second in the world cup and you couldn't be prouder, especially after coming to know the girls personally

• but with captaincy resting on her shoulders Millie couldn’t help but be disappointed in herself, despite her pride team in the as a whole

• finding a quite moment to pull the older girl away from the post-match madness and media you held her as she finally allow the mask to drop

• as you held her crying in your arms you still found her the most beautiful person you'd ever met, you knew you had to make her yours

~~~~~~~~~~

And here it is! The first blurb of the Wag diaries!!

Let me know what y’all think! Is it something you think you’ll be interested in??

[dragonwitch77]

Tiny

Chapter 9: Screaming

Crying.

That was all Bittergiggle heard for the last seven days.

Twenty-four seven a day. A hundred and sixty-eight hours. TEN THOUSAND AND EIGHTY MINUTES. SIX HUNDRED AND FOUR THOUSAND AND EIGHT HUNDRED SECONDS.

All of it, for a whole week, was spent listening to the kid cry her lungs out.

Crying crying crying. That was all the kid did now.

Wailing her lungs out as Bittergiggle tried to calm her down. He didn’t know what set her off. She had been so quiet before, and now she was screaming her head off like no tomorrow.

The two idiots weren’t much help.

The pair of clones had backed themselves into a corner, trying to get away from the screaming infant. And even if they weren’t of much use, Bittergiggle didn’t want to rely on any of their help after coming back and seeing the mess they created watching over Scylla.

“Kiiiiiid, what do you want?” Bittergiggle whined as Scylla cried in his arms. “You’ve been crying nonstop for a week! Do you just enjoy hearing your voice that much?” He asked the infant, holding her up as she continued to cry.

Bittergiggle had tried everything to get the tiny jester to calm down, but nothing seemed to work. She kept crying, and crying, and crying, and crying. Nonstop crying for every hour of every day.

The jester almost felt like crying himself as he tried to think what the problem could be.

Maybe there was something wrong with her? She looked fine, but what if something bad was going on inside her? If there was, shouldn’t he take her to Syringeon and have him look her over?

No. Definitely not. The surgeon would likely only slam the door in his face if he went to him for help.

But what if it was serious? What if Scylla had something bad or dangerous going on inside her that he couldn’t see? Wouldn’t Syringeon help then?

There was a long back-and-forth debate inside the jester’s mind, pacing with worry that grew the longer the kid kept crying. Finally, after a long agonizing hour, Bittergiggle decided it was time to pay the surgeon a visit.

One little problem though.

Scylla was still crying and people were bound to hear her.

Especially a certain toad he’d been trying to avoid.

If Scylla’s crying got the sheriff’s attention, then that would lead to a whole lot of problems he didn’t want to deal with on top of the kid’s constant crying.

First he had to find something that would muffle her screaming till he managed to get to Cityngeon.

“Please tell me you figured out where the off switch is.” Houdini pleaded, holding Scylla far away in his hands after Bittergiggle had shoved her into his grasp.

“Not yet.” Bittergiggle, searching through his closet for something that could work. Maybe if he wore something heavy, he could hide Scylla under it to muffle her screaming just long enough to get to the lower floors. But what was thick enough to work without suffocating the kid? “Syringeon might know something.”

“The four-armed Mutant you’ve mentioned before?” Allen said, cringing as the kid let out another piercing wail.

“Yep.” Pulling out an old poncho, Bittergiggle examined it. It was big, and thick, but he didn’t quite think the colors suited him. He was half tempted to throw it out.

Then again, it was an old gift from Toadster, and the old thing had a special meaning to him.

He glanced at the pale blue and pink faded colors, feeling a mix of emotions deep inside before deciding it should go back into the closet for now, and pulled out a different poncho that went much better with his color scheme.

“Hopefully, he’ll have some answers to fix this.” Bittergiggle slipped the poncho on, making sure it was big enough to cover his body.

“He better! I can’t stand listening to the kid screaming her head off the whole time!” Houdini said.

“God, I wish she stops crying soon.” Poe lamented, and Bittergiggle rolled his eyes.

He checked himself over, figuring the dark colors would help in blending in the shadows to sneak around… and suddenly noticed that the room had gone eerily quiet.

The jester looked back in surprise, finding Scylla, the infant who had been screaming her head off, for an ENTIRE WEEK, calmly staring at him with her big old eyes.

The room had gone silent.

“… are you secretly a genie or something?” Houdini asked, glancing at Allen with a look that screamed jealousy.

“Wha–no?!” Allen looked at Houdini as if he said something insulting to him. “I didn’t do this!”

“But she stopped screaming when you said you wished she’d stop crying soon!”

“That doesn’t mean I did anything!”

The two began to argue again, and Bittergiggle let out a sigh. Seems like the kid was fine now, which means he didn’t have to get down on his knees before Syringeon and beg him to see what was wrong with her.

Shaking his head, Bittergiggle took the poncho off, deciding he didn’t need it now that Scylla wasn’t crying… except she started crying again just as he put the poncho away.

“Oh no, look what you’ve done!” Allen bemoaned as Scylla’s screaming started anew. “You upset the kid!”

“Me?! It was all your doing! You wishing didn’t do–”

“I’m not a genie!”

Bittergiggle groaned, pulling out the poncho again. Guess his pride will have to go to the grave.

Once again he slipped the poncho on, ready to head down and try to persuade the gruff older Mutant to help… and once again Scylla stopped crying.

Bittergiggle stared at the kid in confusion. Why had she started screaming and crying just moments ago and then suddenly stop?

“Oh now you finally stop screaming.” Houdini huffed, bringing Scylla over to his face. “What’s with you? You’ve been crying your head off for days and only now you decided that you don’t want to? What’s with you?”

“Maybe she’s hungry?” Allen offered. “She’s a baby after all, maybe she wants something to eat.”

“She can’t be hungry! Mutants don’t need to eat.”

“Well, maybe something was scaring her!”

“What could possibly have scared her? Everything is the same as it exactly was when she first came here two weeks ago!”

Two weeks ago. Something about that comment made Bittergiggle frown deeply on his purple side.

Two weeks ago.

He glanced around the place. Everything was as it had been when he first brought the kid here. The space, the clothes over the test tubes, the tables, the clones, his cl–

Bittergiggle’s eyes widened, lifting the poncho to gaze down at himself.

Scylla started crying again.

“Oh what did you do now?!”

“I didn’t do anything! You’re the one who probably did something!”

Bittergiggle dropped the poncho, and Scylla stopped crying.

He lifted it, and the kid began to wail again.

Dropping it, she went quiet.

The jester almost wanted to break down laughing while simultaneously slapping himself.

🧪

Fabric fluttered in the air as a bundle of clothes, tied together in a knot, was thrown into the deep pit.

Bittergiggle watched in silence as his old uniform disappeared into the darkness far below, feeling a bit vindicated once it was gone from his sight.

“It’s the preferred outfit, Case 17. It was designed before you were made. It looks great on you. It’s not horror-inducing. Kids will love seeing you in it. There’s nothing wrong with the design so stop complaining.” The jester let out a huff, looking down at the kid strapped against his chest. “A word of wisdom, kid. Never take fashion advice from people who only wear lab coats twenty-four seven.”

Scylla blinked slowly, quietly staring at Bittergiggle as the jester turned and headed back to his hideout.

<Previous/Next>

[bellysoupset]

Jonah was fast asleep, dreaming even, when he heard a little noise, that sounded like a cry. He frowned in his sleep, until the mewl turned into a voice and he heard a sleepy, whiny "Jon. Jonah, wake up-" he forced his eyes open, rubbing at them, still dizzy with sleep.

"Ange-" Jonah looked around the room. It was the middle of the night, and their shared hotel room was dark still. Angie was sitting up in the bed opposite to him, a pink silk bonnet on top of her head, and a frown between her brows, "what..."

"Your phone is ringing nonstop," she yawned, settling back down against the pillows and closing her eyes, "turn it off."

Jon was suddenly much more awake.

He had been trying, and failing, not to be clingy. Twenty four hours without hearing from Leo was fine, right? Since they had this huge time difference between them...? Sure, Leo had been ignoring even his texts, but it was just 24 hours-

Jonah's mood tanked as he grabbed his phone and saw four missed calls, but not from Leo. Lucas.

He was Luke's emergency contact, had been most of his life, and Jonah felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He sat up in bed, squinting at the too bright screen. It was 4:34 AM, so a little past 10 PM for Luke. Not a social call.

Jon hit the return call button and got up, walking to the bathroom in order not to wake up Angie with his voice, shutting the door behind him.

It rang and rang, then Bella picked it up, "hi, Jon," she sounded very awake, "I'm gonna get Luke for you, just a minute."

Straight to the point, he loved that about Bell.

"He's okay?"

"Luke? Yeah, he's fine," Bella sounded distracted and Jonah pulled back the phone, clicking the camera icon and rubbing at his face. Bella picked it up and Jon immediately frowned.

She was inside Luke's car, he could tell by the ceiling and the beige details, her hair up in a messy mop of curls and she was wearing one of her husband's old team hoodies, their university letters brightly displayed against her chest. It was the middle of the night, like he predicted and there was a bright light coming from outside the window-

"Where are you? What's going on, Bella?"

"Outside the grocery store," Bella yawned, "we're heading to your place. Wendy called me, about... An hour ago? Something happened with Leo, I don't know- HE'S OKAY," she exclaimed, probably seeing the way Jonah paled and how he nearly dropped the phone, "he's okay. He's home, but something happened and I don't know what, just that you need to come home. That's why Luke was calling."

"Did- Did Wendy tell Lucas?" Jonah was more than a little confused. He was Wendy's best friend, why didn't she just...call him? About Leo? Why call Luke- That sounded convoluted and messy.

There was a noise, the rain getting louder, paper bags and then the door closing, then Luke appeared on the screen, rain running down his hair, "hi-hi Jon-" his teeth chattered and Bella passed him the phone, moving away from the screen, probably to turn on the heater, "We-Wendy ca-ca-"

"Why did she call you and not me? Luke, what's going on, I'm freaking out-"

"She-she said Leo made her promise not to call you," Luke planted the phone in the car's dashboard, rubbing his hands vigorously to warm them up, "but that he needs you ho-home. Something to do with his mom...?"

Jonah felt sick. His head was spinning, the words he needs you home turning and turning in his head.

"His mom...? I thought- What? His mom? Are you sure you heard that right?" He leaned heavily against the door and heard as Luke repeated his words.

"I'm sure," Lucas' voice was calmer now that he wasn't trembling, "she needed to leave for her hospital shift and asked us to go over to your place. Said Leo shouldn't be alone."

Fuck.

If nothing had scared him yet, this certainly would. This meant Wendy was putting Leo under watch... That she thought he was a danger to himself?

"Jonah, hey," Bella's voice cut through the ringing noise in his ears, "nothing is going to happen with him. We're going over, we're not gonna let him out of our sight and you'll be here soon. I promise you, we got this."

"Yeah," Lucas agreed, "You're still in Amsterdam, right?"

"Yes-" How did Luke even know- Angie. He probably was keeping contact with Angelina, she had mentioned they texted.

"There's a flight leaving from Schiphol in two hours, I got you two tickets," Lucas was in his full project manager role, "tell Angie to text me, I'll figure out her staying over situation."

"She can-" he was about to say she can stay with me, before he realized Luke was very purposefully making it clear she couldn't, "okay. I'll talk with her. I- Fuck," his voice trembled and Jonah let go off his phone on top of the sink, bracing against it as he took measured breaths.

There was a deafening silence, safe for his heart beating like crazy. Jonah's head was spinning and he forced the air slowly out of his mouth, swallowing forcefully when the motion nearly turned into a gag.

He coughed and heard Luke cursing, his voice muffled since the phone was on top of a towel. Jonah cleared his throat, swallowing down and splashing some cool water. Lucas and Bell wouldn't be calling that calmly if Leo was in real danger. Nope.

"You get there and you keep me updated. I'm serious, I want every fucking detail, I wanna know what socks he's wearing," Jonah bossed, picking up the phone once more. Bella offered him a tight smile, while Luke nodded, not even questioning it.

"Absolutely. Have a safe flight."

-------------------------------------

Leo knew Wendy had called Bella, which meat she had called Lucas, which meant Vince knew, which meant Jonah either already knew by now or was going to very soon.

He glanced at clock in the microwave. 11 PM. It was 5 AM in Amsterdam, hopefully none of his friends had decided to wake up Jon in a panic in the middle of the night. Hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go, but they should be here in ten minutes," Wendy's voice drifted down the hallway and Leo looked away from his Tostitos turning around in the microwave, "are you gonna be okay? I-Just say the word-"

"Wendy," Leo leveled her with a fond, but exasperated look, "go. You're already late."

She frowned, crossing her arms to her chest and Leo stared back at her, not intimidated in the least. He turned so his body was facing her, "I'm not gonna jump out of the balcony in the ten minutes it'll take Luke and Bell to get here. I promise, pinky promise."

"Good," Wendy squinted at him, "would be a dick move to jump, you'd probably land right on top of their car."

Leo let out a snort at the dark humor and Wendy's eyes softened a little bit. She was wearing borrowed clothes from his closet, not having let him out of her sight since last night and she looked ridiculous. His sweater was basically a dress on her, even if she was using her heels.

He wanted to say this was all incredibly unnecessary, that he didn't need a nanny, was a grown man and sure, it had been a shock, but he was fine- But Leo knew better than that. He had spent a grand total of forty minutes on his own while showering and those forty minutes had been all his brain needed to go down a very dark spiraling route.

Amelia's confused face as she asked "I'm sorry, have we met?"

He couldn't get that out of his mind, coming back like a splash of acid in his throat whenever he breathed in too deeply. Edward's Leo?

"Sweetheart," Wendy was suddenly much closer and Leo blinked quickly, shaking his head.

"I'm okay, go on, your supervisor will be upset if you're even more late," behind him the microwave stopped humming gently and started beeping. Wendy was frowning, looking terribly worried, but she nodded, walking at a snail pace to the door.

He wanted to thank her, but Leo instead just stared at the empty spot where she had been standing. Everything felt... Hard. Like he was moving through molasses, like he was that scared kid back home who used to sit in his bedroom floor and struggle to breathe against that sharp pain in the center of his chest.

JD meowed at him and Leo frowned as she got on her hindlegs and pawed at his knee. Another meow.

"What?"

She blinked those huge blue eyes, seeming annoyed and he crunched down to pet her, then didn't have any energy to get back up and decided to rest against the kitchen cabinets. His cat shoved her head against his chin, rubbing and meowing.

She wanted something, he just wasn't sure what. When he tried to pet her again, JD bit him. Not hard enough to break skin, just to let him know something was wrong and for him to stop.

Leo pouted, "what?" he repeated and only then he heard the knocking on the front door. Ah, she probably wanted him to make it stop.

"Leo?!" Luke's voice was strikingly clear through the door and Leo wondered how he hadn't heard until now. He unlocked the door and before he could say much more, Bella's arms were around his neck and she was pulling him down into a tight hug.

He stiffened for a second, before Bella yanked at him, not even accepting him pulling back and Leo melted into the hug. He buried his face in her curls and then let out a little muffled groan as he felt Lucas envelop them both into his arms.

"What happened?" Bella asked, when they finally pulled back, crouching down to pick up JD from the floor and plant a kiss between her ears, as Luke brought the frankly worryingly amount of groceries inside. Were they planning to stay the week or did they just assume Leo didn't know how to stock a fridge?

"Where do I start?"

"From the beginning," Bella shut the door, leaning against it.

Not much longer they were all in the living room, Leo as curled up in the couch as he could, with JD snuggled against his stomach, and a knot pressing against his throat as he finished up the short tale of what had been that encounter. He hoped Luke was enough of a gossip he'd pass it down in details to Vince, because Leo could not fathom saying it a fourth time, assuming he'd have to tell Jon as well.

"How are you?" Luke asked, squeezing Leo's ankle. He was sitting by his foot and moving closer inch by inch, "honestly."

"A mess?" Leo snorted, burying his feet under Luke's thigh, "I'm not sad or angry, I just feel... Defeated. Empty."

Raw.

It was an insanely familiar feeling and it had taken Leo a minute to place it, it was exactly what he felt at his father's funeral. A mix of relief and anger and sadness that churned up in a feeling so overwhelming it numbed everything else. Grief.

He had hated that man so much, wished his dad was dead many times, and when it happened, he felt guilty and scared for and of himself. Who wished for the death of a parent? Who felt relief when it happened? And there was the love too. Those little, tiny moments he had cherished next to Edward, that had gotten far and more sparse as the years passed. The anger, because how dare his father end it like that. The lack of thought of it all, about who'd find him - his seventeen year old son -, about the trauma he was about to inflict... And more guilt, because how dare Leo be so self absorbed to make Edward's death about himself.

It was overwhelming.

"Jonah's coming," Bella's voice was loud and clear, silver bells pulling Leo from his dark thoughts. He looked up, noticing how she had moved from the opposite couch, to sit in the coffee table, as close as she could without climbing on the couch him and Luke were currently occupying, "and we're not going anywhere. And-" she cut herself short, looking at Luke, asking him to put into words what she couldn't.

Luke was looking at him intently, as he said in a measured voice, "it wasn't your fault she left. You were a kid, there was nothing you could've done."

Leo's chest jostled with a sob, then another, then another and he folded in the middle as Luke addressed word by word a fear that was longer than their friendship, an insecurity so deep it was etched in his bones: that he wasn't good enough. That if they got close enough, stuck around for long enough, they'd see what Amelia and Edward did, whatever rotten thing it was that made one of them run, the other decide to end it all.

Lucas moved, getting down from the couch and scooting closer on the rug, until he could touch his forehead with his, pressing in "hey," he whispered, "we got you. We love you."

[13keithxpidge13]

First I ADORE YOUR WRITING!! Your punkflower family AU is soo cute! Could you do a snippet of how it went when Miles found out he was pregnant and Hobie's reaction? Any funny scenarios you had in mind on Hobie caring for Miles during his pregnancy? You are amazing have a nice day 😊❤❤

AAAA MY FIRST PUNKFLOWER FAMILY AU ASK LET'S GOOOOO

(just a little side note, Miles and Noir have a scene together and there is a mention of, y'know, N@zi's, it's just the single word but I don't want to trigger anyone, haha. Enjoy!)

Having his senses buzz every second was unusual. Normally, when his senses buzzed it meant that a villain would be coming to punch his lights out in the next millisecond but, there was no villain to be found when his spider-instincts triggered.

He had talked to his husband about it and Hobie was just as confused. In their puzzlement, Hobie suggested perhaps going to see some of the other Spider's to get some advice? He hated asking for help but, it was important that they find out what was going on with him, Hobie told him.

So, Miles did just that and first, went to talk to Peter B.

"That's...odd, yeah, kid, I'm not sure," Peter B told him sadly as he settled Mayday into her crib for her afternoon nap. It had taken forever to get her down for the afternoon. "Maybe ask Noir? Maybe he knows."

And so, Miles did, and received more or less the same answer.

"Sorry, Miles," Noir apologized as he punched a thug straight in the jaw. "I don't really have any idea. But, perhaps Peni knows. She's smart. She knew what color was on my Rubik's cube before I could figure it out the other day."

Miles laughed at him and reassured him it was alright, waving goodbye but, before the portal could close, he watched as Noir grabbed the thug by the collar before chucking him in a dumpster. Served the bastard right. Fucking N@zi's.

Miles feels even more frustrated though when even Peni doesn't have an answer for him.

"That's never happened to well, any of us before, I don't think," She said while fixing up her robot friend. "I'm so sorry I can't be of more help. But, maybe you should ask Jess? Or Miguel? They've been in the game longer than us."

Miles shudders just thinking of asking Miguel.

Guess Jess is the next best option.

"Your senses are going off all the time?" Jess looked up at him, eyes blinking behind her goggles as she sat next to her bike, a wrench in hand. "Like, all the time."

Miles nodded, sighing as he already sensed he'd come up empty here too. "Yeah...it's nonstop, like, just before I walked in here they started chirping again."

Jess blinked at him for a moment before muttering something underneath her breath and Miles tilted his head.

"...do you know something?" He asked. "Anything?"

"Not sure," Jess licked her lips. "Just...go see a doctor. Okay?"

"What?" Miles straightened. "A doctor? But-I can't tell them-"

"Yeah, I know," She told him, nodding. "Go see one of our doctors, tell them what's going on. They'll know what's up."

Oh.

Miles blinked at her largely. "That...I don't know why I didn't think of that."

Jess laughed and he ran from her in a hurry, face darkening with every single bout of laughter that escaped her lips.

He met up with the doctors only a few hours later, settling in the office easily before being led into one of the many rooms inside. Turns out, there are a lot of doctor Spider-man variants lying around and they all help Miguel out by doing their jobs in HQ.

"Sooo," Dr. Spider began, holding onto a clipboard and Miles has to hold in his laughter at the sight of a Spider-man dressed in a lab coat with only his mask on his face. "Your senses are going off twenty-four seven?"

Miles swallowed and nodded. "Yeah, basically."

"Hm," Dr. Spider stood up. "That means that there's something going on inside of you. Unless, of course, you have a stalker."

Miles deadpanned.

"Welp, an ultrasound it is, then," He told him and Miles blinks rapidly.

"Wait, an ultrasound?"

"Yep," Dr. Spider said. "It's likely you're pregnant, due to being an omega but, this is also just procedure. So, just hang tight for a minute, kay? I'll be back in a moment."

Miles can't get another word in before he's leaving, shutting the door behind him and Miles is left shocked beyond compare.

Pregnant.

He could be pregnant.

Oh god.

+

He comes home late that night, shutting their apartment floor door as quietly as possible.

His footsteps can't even be heard, perks of having the abilities that he does. He walks into their kitchen, making sure to be as quiet as possible so he can grab a drink of water and a pack of fruit snacks to calm his nerves.

Then, he's stalking into their living room, walking past the couches to hopefully get in their shared bedroom without waking Hobie and-

The light switches on and Miles freezes.

Hobie's sitting on one of the couches, an eyebrow raised.

They stare at each other and Miles swallows.

"Hey," He croaks.

"Hi, love," Hobie greets and tilts his head. "Ya've been gone all day. Weren't answerin' my texts and calls."

Miles licks his lips. "Was busy."

Hobie stands from the chair and walks over to him and immediately, Miles is turning away to hide his sniffles and he wipes at his watery eyes. Of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by his mate and Hobie gently grabs ahold of his wrist, his hand dwarfing his arm by a mile like it had always done.

"Love," Hobie whispers. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just-" Miles twitches. "It's just been a long day...I'm fine."

"Yer cryin'," Hobie argues. "Yer not fine. Jess told me ya' went ta' the doctors in HQ, what'd they say?"

Miles curses Jess and his teeth grind.

"I-"

"Are ya' hurt?"

"No."

"Are ya' sick?"

"No."

"Then, Jesus God, Miles what the hell-?"

Miles shakily reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out the crumpled picture in his hands. Hobie pauses and watches as he holds it up in the light to him.

His brows furrow.

"What-?"

"I got an ultrasound," Miles tells him and Hobie gently grabs onto the photo.

He stares.

Miles sniffles and wipes a hand down his face.

"I'm so sorry, Hobie. I-I don't know how it happened," He cries, unable to stop his tears. "I didn't-I was so stupid. I didn't even realize that I forgot to take my pill during my last heat. I'm so, so, sorry. Please, please don't leave me, I-"

"Leave you?" Hobie breathes and glances down at him, their eyes meeting and Miles' breath hitches as he sees tears glistening in Hobie's mismatched orbs. "Miles, baby, leave ya'? This is-I would never, especially not...yer pregnant?"

Miles sobs and nods pitifully. "I'm sorry."

Hobie exhales loudly and looks back to stare at the photo where an obvious outline of a babe is printed onto.

He glances back down at Miles' stomach. He's hardly showing but-

Hobie gently caresses him tummy and Miles twitches, whirling up to look at him with wide, teary, caramel eyes.

"...Hobie?" He breathes.

"Yer pregnant," Hobie whispers, astonished. "Ya'...ya' want to keep the babe?"

"I-" Miles hesitates. "...yeah. I do."

Hobie licks his lips and nods. "Aight, then," He says. "Then, I guess we're havin' a baby, love."

Miles breaks down and sobs.

"Re-really?" He cries, reaching for him and grabbing onto him so tightly, like Hobie is his only lifeline, like he'll fall apart without him. "Really? We are? You'll stay?"

"Gods, Miles," Hobie laughs breathily. "Of course I'll stay. We didn't plan this but I always figured it'd be in the cards fo' us one day. Kinda scary that we didn't plan any of this, yeah but, we'll make it work, babe. Spider-man always makes it work."

Miles laughs wetly and immediately hugs him tight and Hobie returns the gesture, kissing his head and rocking them back and forth as Miles cries and cries into his chest.

"Oh, my darlin'," Hobie coos, rubbing up and down his back. "I love ya'."

Miles sniffles and nods. "Love-love you too, Hobie," He sobs. "I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you. I'm so excited, I'm-we're gonna have a baby-"

"With yer eyes," Hobie grins.

"With your smile," Miles laughs right back.

Hobie kisses his temple and Miles stands on tip toes to catch his lips in his own.

Days later, the printed ultrasound photo can be seen hanging from their fridge and they begin counting down the days until they can meet their baby boy.

Eight months later, Aaron Morales is welcomed into the world.

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Daddy

Summary: The first time MC calls Sebastian Daddy and the first time he calls himself Daddy.

Warnings: 18+ for a few moments, then stupidly sweet, Daddy kink

Pairing: Sebastian x f!MC

A/N: @pugsnotdrugs92 and @pity-those-who-live-without-love just a slightly smutty mostly sweet telling of the first time the name Daddy was used that I wrote because of your comments on The Green Imposter. I fully plan to make this a regular theme in my oneshots from here on out for all of our Daddy needs. Hope you cuties like it 💜😚

-------------------------------

Daddy 

The first time the word left her lips Sebastian thought he had imagined it, her uncontrolled moans flowing nonstop. His pace slowed a little as he ran the moment back in his head. No, he’d definitely heard that word. “Oh, Daddy.” 

Oh Daddy indeed, she meant it as a name! A name for me.

He growled loudly as the word sank in, washed over him like a flame, setting a desire deep inside him ablaze. He wanted to hear her call him that again. No, want wasn’t strong enough for the feeling growing inside him. He needed it. He demanded it. 

He slipped his arm underneath her body pulling him to her, his chest against her back, her head tilted back to rest on his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her chest, his fingers snaking up to grip her throat. “Say it again.” She made a noise of confusion and his fingers tightened around her. “You know what I’m talking about. Call me that again.” 

“Daddy.” It came out as a low whine making his breath catch in his chest. 

“Fuck, say it again, Princess.” He dropped his head down to her shoulder, groaning against her skin. He was close. She brought her own arm up, tangling her fingers in his hair, tugging at the soft brown strands as she spoke. 

“Cum in me, Daddy.” 

With the release of the loudest grunt he thought he’d ever produced he did exactly that, his cock completely buried in her, shooting his seed into her, claiming her as his. His Princess. Daddy's Princess.

———————

The first time the word left his own lips they were arguing. She had come back from Merlin knows where, covered in dirt and deep scratches, after being missing for almost twenty four hours. 

“Where the hell have you been, MC? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” He found her in the Room of Requirements, stripped to her underwear, wiping blood off her arms with a washcloth, a large bowl of steaming water on the table beside her. 

“I was out, doing my thing.” The answer made his blood boil. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Princess, Daddy is not happy right now.” His face blushed as he realized what he had said, but the surprised smile that broke out on hers made his embarrassment disappear. 

“You just called yourself Daddy!” 

“I know.” His voice was quiet, full of shock. 

“How did it feel? Did you…like it?” 

“I..I did.” He crossed the room to her, his anger forgotten, pulling her to him. “I did, I loved it! And I love you, Princess, so much more than I can say.” He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, his love for her the only thing on his mind. When they broke apart he backed away, looking her over. Taking the damp washcloth from her, dipping it in the water, he ran a corner across her cheek. “Let Daddy clean you up Princess.” He wiped down her body, covering it in kisses as he went. 

When he finished he collected the fresh Wiggenweld from her brewing station, bringing it to her. After she drank the potion, he pulled her onto the nearby sofa. “We’re still going to talk about you running off without telling me, Princess, I was so scared something happened to you.” He shifted around on the sofa, laying down, pulling her on top of him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “But for now, let Daddy hold you.” 

[bluegoist]

karasu tabito x reader | 1.03 words

a/n: my debut bllk fic ! tbh this was going to be solely a nagi blog but this hasn’t left my mind so i guess everyone just has to suffer with me. the pacing is rather abrupt imo but i hope it's not too... much?

it has been exactly twenty four hours since you’ve last slept.

you’re a person who has strictly follow a good sleep schedule— more often than not irregular but you’d still argue it’s good as you would always get at least 7 hours of sleep, regardless if you start sleep late or early— but right now, one of the most important exams that you have to take is a couple weeks away and you just could not afford to waste a single second in a case you tragically forget everything you’ve worked so hard to study.

you’re pretty certain that your head is spinning and not attaining the knowledge that it wants to. you feel incredibly hazy and distracted for no reason (or maybe it’s the fact that you opt to study without any break whatsoever the past twenty four hours... but you’d rather the ground swallow you up whole than admit that.).

your boyfriend is unaware of the specifics, however, he could tell that you definitely had enough of studying. at least, by the mere fact that he has been to practice, got back, and woke up again just to see you still buried in your notebook then he even waited for a couple more hours just to see if you'd take even a ten minute break or two... of course, to no avail.

suddenly, the usually loving and supportive boyfriend of yours now has his arm up, holding your precious notes hostage. you look up at him, mouth set in a straight line.

“did you actually assume i would jump around like an idiot?” you asked in a withering tone, unimpressed.

“it’d be highly amusing, no?” karasu mockingly asked. pinching the bridge of your nose, a heavy sigh spilling out of your lips, frown apparent on your wrinkled forehead.

“tacchan, my one and only, do not make me strangle you so early in the morning. please, it’s not civilised,” if he was honest, you’re admittedly so adorable, indignantly looking up at him like he’s some sort of scum, but he can never think our loud lest you say something along the lines of ‘if you think i’m so adorable, give me back my notes and leave me alone,’

you signed once more, clenching your eyes tight in hopes the dull ache in your head would subside, “please.”

your boyfriend’s slight smile dropped. karasu tabito have always analysed things surrounding him and you were no exception to that— after all, only after observing and assessing you did he find himself falling for you— therefore, in his mind, he naturally knew your limits and your drive to persevere through it.

but karasu tabito has one fatal flaw— a weakness that takes in a shape of a person; you.

with exaggerated, full body sigh, he skilfully skirted around you to neatly put your notes on the table then before you could react and settle down to begin your studying once more, your boyfriend stopped you by gently grabbing your jaw to shift your focus solely on him. both his hands settling on the sides of your face as he caresses one side of your cheek as he softly smiled.

“yer done,” “no, i—“ he interrupted you with a quiet hush, one hand opting to stop soothing caresses on your cheeks to put his finger on your lips.

“before ya make yer point, listen ta me first, hm? pretty,” closing your eyes briefly as you sigh, you gave in and nodded.

“yer one of— no, the smartest person i know, and normally i wouldn’t take away yer freedom to do whatever ya want whenever ya wanted it. it’s very obvious just how much this nonstop studying you’ve been doing has taken a toll on ya,” his words were gentle, he was highly aware just how sensitive you are right now.

“i know 'tis an important college prep exam but ya can’t get much done if yer so stressed yer suffering. to be honest, i already know you’ll do well despite not studying this hard. you’ll probably get the top rank,”

“you think so?”

“yes, just as it’s always been.” and to be completely true, you are not sure whether it's the total exhaustion or perhaps it’s the simple reassurance your lovely boyfriend has given you after such a long day of laser focusing on whatever it is you were studying but with not much more convincing, you were easily dragged by your own boyfriend to the bathroom to wash up. with gentle hands and an even gentler eyes, he ensured he helped you clean up well and get ready for bed.

the next thing you know, he has dragged you on his bed, laying your head on his chest, as he rubs circles on the exposed skin of your arms.

"genuinely don't get how'd ya even thought of like... failing whatsoever," he grumbled.

"i guess... i just couldn't risk the possibility," you sheepishly replied, "sorry, i'm quite stubborn," you squeezed him once, twice.

"what are ya apologizin' for, scrub! it's one of your redeeming qualities."

"it drives you insane, tacchan."

"love it when ya drive me insane, love everythin' bout ya, little thing." you look up to see your tabito playfully smirking at you, not hiding the absolute affection in his eyes in the slightest.

"i'll probably drive you even more insane in the future..."

"i already look forward ta it," he snickers at you and his eyes promising retribution every time you drove him insane. your boyfriend's tenaciousness is probably the entire reason you both worked out well.

"you're so unserious, you asshole," you clicked your tongue with a mocking glare.

"it's one of ma charming qualities if i say so myself," with his nose high up in the air, you couldn't help but relax even further in his embrace.

"hm.. it is, isn't it?" and you thought; perhaps it's okay to take a break like this and not everything will fall apart just as you'd pathetically imagine.

and perhaps, you'd always have your loving and supportive partner to make up for your rare lack of judgment. perhaps, even though you fall into such a dangerous territory, you'd always have a safety net to back you up.

just as it's always been.

if you made it this far, thank you for finishing this hot mess T-T also i am highly aware that karasu speaks in kansai-ben, however, i did not really do well in depicting that since it’s (surprise) been awhile since i wrote characters with dialects (in english, at least. i’m more familiar with kansai-ben in japanese (as in spoken/romanised) however, it’s quite challenging for me to put that nuance in english since i’m not sure which english dialect i should go with and i think it'd be immensely awkward for me to insert...romanised japanese in a full english fic indiscriminately T-T also tbh i was cringing trying to depict that kansai-ben of this crow cos like... what the hell am i even typing plsdjdjhj anyways um rbs/likes are appreciated i guess but it'd be even greater to know what u guys thought ! again, thank you if you made it this far hehe)

[friendlyneighborhoodsynthezoid]

Pirate Batch- Echo- Part 4

(I should have edited this. Or proofread it. Or something. I didn't. Enjoy!)

Echo and the Bad Batch were dropped off by the quietest dock they could find around twilight. Phee reassured them that she’d be back to collect them in twenty-four hours.

“Or when I see something go boom,” she added to Echo before they parted ways, “so just survive until then, got it?” she slapped him cheerfully on the shoulder, but Echo was too distracted to answer her. Rex was here somewhere. Somewhere on this island where he once laughed and shared drinks and got into trouble, safe in the knowledge that he had his brothers around him. But there was no such levity anymore, and his new companions were wound tighter than if they were marching into an active battlefield.

The crew of the Havoc Marauder were kitted out well. Hunter sported his hat and oversized jacket, but concealed about his person was a pistol and a truly vicious-looking hunting knife that Echo wasn’t even going to bother asking the origin of. Wrecker was sporting a large overcoat, which he had complained about nonstop ever since Hunter had slapped it into his arms. “This is a stealth op, Wrecker,” Hunter had scolded, “and you’d stand out even if you weren’t carrying a blunderbuss under each arm. Now leave the guns or put on your damn jacket.”

Tech was dapper as always, but even he had a pistol strapped to his hip and he had a selection of suspicious-looking flasks tucked into a satchel at his side. Echo was certain by this point that anything Tech had a hand in was likely to kill, incapacitate, or just explode. The little nerd had a passion for dangerous technologies so clear that even Echo had picked up on it from their relatively few interactions.

Aaand then there was Crosshair. Echo was getting tired of the stalking aaray-shebs and his death glares, but he just had to take Hunter’s word and hope that the sniper didn’t actively wish him harm. He wouldn’t put much past him just now though, as the sheer number of pistols, daggers, blades and similarly deadly objects made it very clear that he was expecting to spill some blood. Hell, Hunter had to physically drag his rifle away from him spouting stealth and secrecy over the hissing protests of the irate sniper. Wrecker laughed at him the whole while, gleefully mocking Crosshair on his attachment to the     -apparently- precious rifle.

As for Echo himself, there wasn’t much he could wield with only one good hand, but Hunter gave him a spare blade and Tech ominously promised that they’d “work on it.” Hunter gifted him an overcoat and a hood to disguise his metal appendages, but there wasn’t much any of them could do about his hand-

“Yet,” Tech added.

Regardless, they were as prepared as they were going to get, and it hurt to think of a jaunt into Coruscant as worthy of such precautions.

Different times, he supposed.

Just another thing he badly needed to talk to Rex about.

They strode together into the streets of Lower Coruscant, where even at the late hour crowds of people hurried every which way. The misty streets were bustling, as were the various dockside bars and inns. Hunter gave them a nod and they parted ways, dissipating into the crowds. Echo didn’t love this part of the plan, but he knew that they had a better chance of tracking down Rex if they split up, and it wasn’t as if he needed a babysitter just to walk down the street…

He couldn’t see the others anymore. The crowd swept him along in a great, flooding, whirling maelstrom of bodies and noise and he could breathe, couldn’t concentrate-

No people for so long. No sounds but his own screaming. No input but pain. Now there’s too much toomuchtoomuch-

Something knocked him to the ground and his head knocked against the cobblestone street. Around him people continued to rush by in currents, unheeding, unnoticing, until something snatched him up. He struggled against the hand on the back of his coat, dragging him into an alley and forcing him down to slump against a wall. Echo drew his knife. but was too disoriented to defend himself- oh, stars-

“Breathe, Tinman,” a harsh, familiar voice rasped in his ear.

Crosshair?!

Echo gasped a breath, conscious enough to slow his breathing too something less close to hyperventilating. He raised his eyes and, true enough, he was caught in the cold grip of the Havoc Marauder’s most unsettling crew member. He felt his insides shrivel a bit as he met that steely gaze, but Crosshair did not let him look away. One bony hand caught his wrist and stayed the knife in Echo’s trembling grip. When he tried to avert his eyes, the other grabbed him by the shoulder and shook. It wasn’t a gentle shake, but it wasn’t exactly rage in the sniper’s voice when he spoke: “No, stop it. Look at me.”

Echo couldn’t find it in himself to refuse, and he once again dragged his vision back into focus. Crosshair’s sharp eyes looked furious, but also- concerned? Was that possible? Was Echo so pitiable that even Crosshair was worried about him?? He didn’t like the thought, so he shook his wrist free of his hold and- hoping he wasn’t about to get stabbed- forced iron into his voice. “I’m fine. What are you doing here anyway. Weren’t we supposed to split up?”

Surprisingly, Crosshair backed off. He leaned against the wall above Echo’s still huddled form- not quite hanging back, but not crowding him either. He didn’t look at Echo as he replied, “Yeah, well. Don’t trust you, do I? Could get up to anything, maybe go call the Corries on us.” His lip curled into a half-hearted sneer. “Better I keep an eye on you, don’t you think?”

Echo hauled himself to his feet, mouth running on automatic as he tried to regain his balance. “Careful, mate,” he said, “I might almost think you’re worried about me.” As his brain caught up with him, Echo briefly wondered if he had a death wish.

Well, actually, he didn’t want to know the answer to that, but the fact remained. Don’t poke the angry sniper.

But once again he was surprised. Instead of tearing his eyeballs out, Crosshair just scoffed and shouldered past him into the street. “C’mon then. If you want this grand reunion of yours, there’s no sense hanging around here.” With that, he was off.

Watching Crosshair move through the busy streets was fascinating. For someone who struck Echo as allergic to all humanity, he slipped through the throngs of people as easily as an eel through still water. Echo was having difficulty keeping up with him, which was not aided by having no idea where they were even going. All he could do was keep his eyes on the sniper’s back and hope they would be arriving soon. As unnerving as he was, Echo was glad to have Crosshair as a guide. He tuned out the hustle and bustle of the street and simply moved one mechanical step at a time for what felt like ages.

Eventually- maybe minutes later, maybe an eternity- Crosshair halted his progress and pulled Echo into the shelter of a doorway. The doorframe was hanging empty in a wall that looked one strong storm away from collapsing. The cracked surfaces were cast in shadows even darker than the night around them. It was as inhospitable a place as could be found in the heart of a city; a house that had been abandoned and left to fall apart under its own weight. Such houses were overlooked by the general populace, but Echo knew they always had stories and secrets to tell. Why were they stopping here?

Crosshair tapped him on the shoulder and ducked into the house. Echo followed, mindful of the unstable construction waiting above his head. He couldn’t see well in the dark interior and he turned to find his companion again. It took some searching. Crosshair vanished seamlessly into the shadowy environment and for a moment Echo feared the man had simply left him. He was just beginning to panic when he caught a glimpse of silver curls and- glowing eyes? Crosshair’s eyes were faintly glowing in the darkness, and he was moving around as if he could see perfectly well.

Weird.

Are they sure he’s not just a mean, mutant tooka?

The thought amused him enough to snort faintly, which drew the glowing eyes to him.

“Something funny, Tinman?”

“Oh, nothing,” Echo said, “just a passing thought. Say, what are we doing here exactly? Are we looking for something or did you just bring me here to kill me without your crew noticing.” Damn, there he goes again, provoking the armed and unpredictable gunman. Stop it, Echo.

“Don’t tempt me,” Crosshair growled. “We’re looking for your little friend, right? Happens I know where he lives.”

“Here?!” Echo turned away and gestured pointedly and the crumbling walls and the hazardous ceiling.

“Here.” An unfamiliar voice broke in.

There was a click and a soft rasp of breath from behind him.

The voice continued, “now why don’t you turn around nice and slow, or I’ll blow this little prick’s brains out.”

He spun around as slowly and quietly as he could manage on metal feet. Crosshair was standing in front of him, looking furious. Behind him, a man with a scar across his jaw was holding a pistol to the back of Crosshair’s skull.

Echo raised his hands- well hand and claw-hook… thing…- and spoke in his most nonthreatening voice, “No need for the threats. We’re just looking for someone. We won’t make trouble.”

“You won’t,” Crosshair muttered. He got a gun barrel jammed harder into his head in response.

“Shut up, you. We’ve got unfinished business and I’m real close to finishing it right now.” The man turned his attention back to Echo, a scar across his jaw pulling as he bared his teeth. “And what are you supposed to be? Why’re you poking around with HIM and why did he take you here?”

Echo shook his head frankly. “I have absolutely no idea how to answer any of that. I already told you we’re looking for someone.”

“Tinman needs to see your boss, Howzer,” Crosshair cut in unexpectedly, “Drop the guard dog osik so I don’t have to stab you.”

Fighting like cats and dogs, Echo mused, before catching himself. Focus, dammit!

Howzer seemed to consider this for a moment before appearing to reach some decision. Abruptly, he drew back his hand and clubbed Crosshair hard over the head with the butt of his gun. The sniper dropped like a stone and Echo’s extremely rusty, hard earned combat instincts screamed instructions at him. Unfortunately, before he could react, there was a swish and a thud and the world went dark.

__

Echo awoke.

Where was he? Was he back there again? Had it all been a dream after all?

CT-1409- CT-1409- CT-1409- CT-1409- CT-1409- CT-1409-

“Hey.”

He was brought back to awareness with all the suddenness of being dumped in the sea. The man with the scar- Howzer? A hand waved in front of his face.

“Cool it, vod. We won’t hurt you.” He raised his voice to someone across the space. “Hey, Fireball! Come see to our guest a minute.”

Soon, Howzer was gone, and a new person was in his place. He smiled at Echo and said, “Hi, I’m called Fireball. You hungry?”

Echo’s mind was catching up to the situation at last, and he grudgingly accepted the bowl of something that was pushed towards him. He sniffed it cautiously.

Fireball chuckled. “It’s not poisoned, I swear. I have too much respect for food to sully it with tricks.”

Well, to hell with it. Echo tried some stew. It was good- except that it seemed to be burning his tongue inside his mouth. He must have made a face, because Fireball laughed and passed him a cup of water.

Echo’s eyes scanned his surroundings. It appeared to be a cellar of some kind, expanded and connected to tunnels in three walls. Wooden support pillars dotted the space intermittently. It looked like a perfect place to stay hidden from, say, an Empire. Speaking of staying hidden… “Where’s Crosshair.”

“Oh now, he thinks to ask,” the familiar rasp answered him. Echo looked up. On the far side of the room, a support pillar stood. It had ropes tied around it, and Echo hadn’t thought twice about it on his cursory sweep of the room. Now he studied it more carefully, he could vaguely make out the skinny silhouette of the sniper, half obscured by the angle and the pillar itself.

Howzer was standing nearby too, now Echo came to notice it. The man strode over to the sniper and brandished a fist at him. Undeterred, Crosshair continued, “Oh, sure, I get the ‘scary revolutionary’ routine while Echo gets food. Very fai- ugh!”

“Shut up, you.” Howzer said again.

Echo turned to Fireball in confusion. The man gave him an uneasy smile and explained, “We know Crosshair well enough to know to keep an eye on him. Hence why he’s tied to a pole and you’re not. Howzer…” He nodded towards the person in question, “Howzer hates him. We don’t know why, exactly, but it’s not like him to be this aggressive. Even if Crosshair is a skulking, nosy little thief who stumbles into every single one of our secure locations.”

“Has he ever sold you out?” Echo asked.

“No, actually. Which is weird. He knows too many of our secrets that really, we should have taken care of him by now, but he’s still around and we’re not dead yet. Guess he isn’t out to get us caught, just to be a skulking, nosy little thief. Even Rex has started to just get used to him.”

“Rex? Is he your leader? We really do need to talk to him.”

“Don’t worry, he should be here soon.” With that, Fireball stood up, leaving Echo alone and unobserved in the corner of the room, listening to Crosshair and Howzer exchange remarks and insults and occasional blows.

Crosshair, who had never said more than one complete sentence to Echo, apparently didn’t know how to shut his mouth. Maybe he only spoke when it was to antagonize other. Echo could see that being the case. Regardless, he hoped the sniper wasn’t going to land himself- or Echo- in too much trouble by keeping with his current attitude. He certainly seemed determined to needle Howzer -and kick at him when he stepped into range- until the other man hit back.

_

Not too much time passed before footsteps were heard down one of the wall passages. Three sets, by the sound of it. Before long a trio of figure emerged. All three were wearing hoods and cloaks that obscured almost every inch of them. They marched into the cellar and were met by Howzer, snapping a quick salute.

“Sir, he’s back.” Howzer said.

The lead figure looked passed Howzer towards Crosshair. He spoke, a bit muffled, and inclined his head, “Mir’sheb”

Crosshair smirked and returned the greeting. “Mirsh’kyramud.”

“Don’t break my second in command,” he warned Crosshair sternly. “I don’t want to send you back to Hunter in a box.” And that was apparently that. Howzer was clearly still seething, but the lead figure was clearly uninterested in the presence of the sniper. They talked indistinctly among themselves for a few moments longer, until Fireball came up to join them.

“There’s another thing, Sir.” Fireball said. He guided the leader towards Echo’s corner. “We picked up someone else in the house front. Someone who was looking for you specifically.”

They stopped in front of Echo. The leader pulled off his hood and mask, revealing a stern face and buzzed blond hair. Something in Echo’s brain sparked.

“Rex? Is that- is that you?” His words were suddenly not working properly, but he couldn’t stop himself as he stuttered on. “It’s- I’m- do you know who I am?”

Rex’s eyes were wide, and he sank to one knee and stared into Echo’s face. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Echo?!”

____

Mando’a words (Mando’a.org)

aaray-shebs: pain in the butt

osik: crap

vod: brother

Mir’sheb: smart-ass

Mirsh’kyramud: boring person. Lit. “brain assassin”

[natty-taffy]

the handmaiden - [natasha x reader]

Interactive fanfiction

series masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, change is more for better than for worse Previously, on your path: Chapter I.II.I

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ CHAPTER I.II.I.I

[The next morning]

“You’re late”

She mumbles tiredly, watching you prepare the hot chocolate.

You grin as you watch Natty smiling at you, remembering how, not much more than a day ago, she had uttered the very same words, but in oh-so-many different ways. You would say it feels like you have lived through years in twenty-four hours, but you kind of did, so you hum- as tired as you felt yesterday, but now livelier, giddy, in ways you didn’t even know that could exist.

Natasha has this effect on you, you’ve figured out.

“Twenty-two minutes” She tries to remain stern, but her smile drips into every syllable.

“I happened to have overslept, Natty” You answer her, grabbing a second mug from the cabinet, and preparing two hot chocolates at the same time “You know, the past really doesn’t like to stay hidden- but when it finally comes up, it trauma-dumps into you real hard”

“Did you have any more nightmares, darling?” Nat’s entire demeanor changes as you speak, her playfulness now instantly replaced by worry- and, not for the first time, you wonder if she was always good at masking her emotions or if you were actually too blind in fear of her to notice the signs that might have always been right here. 

But, again, you could’ve never imagined any of it, so you cut yourself some slack.

“Not really, more like nonstop memories” You finish both of the hot cocoas with a small swirl of Tony’s beloved whipped cream- trusting Nat wouldn’t rat on you now-, and hand her a mug. “I think they will come back to me as time goes on- I saw you a lot, you know? I remembered Madame Katerina, too, from the kitchen! And, oh, Nat, the castle!”

She accepts the mug with yet another one of those gazes, the one in which she still doesn’t believe to be living this reality- you don’t tell her you can see her quietly pinching her arm from second to second. Your heart swoons for this woman, and, with each passing second, you realize it to be one of your old habits emerging.

“This is a dream coming true, dove, I’m beyond happy for you” Anatasia’s voice is as light and loopy as she feels “And how did you like the castle? What else did you see?”

You smile at her giddy antics and, before realizing it, caress her cheek- carefully, holding her angelic face softly with the palm of your hand, she is the prettiest source of light you have ever come across. She stops sipping her beverage and tenses over your hold- carefully searching for your gaze.

“Did you see yourself doing that to me, too?” Her voice is not tense, it still holds its dreamy hold, but carries a small drop of urgency behind it.

You let your hand still against her, as she hasn’t pulled away from you, and answer honestly “Not really, I just… felt like it, I guess”

Natasha trembles lightly- you feel it more than you can see it, she holds your gaze with the simple spark of her watery smile “You used to hold me all the time, just like this” Her hand cups yours, applying more pressure on her cheek- she closes her eyes, allowing herself to finally relax against you. 

The tears that adorn her face are cold and made of crystal, you have no wonder that, dare you taste it, it would taste like sugar- it’s not the kind of tear that comes from a bad place. You can’t help but notice how mesmerizing Natasha looks and wonder if, maybe, the Super Serum has something to do with how ethereal she always manages to look.

It’s her voice, as always, that brings you back to reality “You better not get tired of seeing me cry”

You could have burst out laughing at the mere idea of getting tired of anything related to her, how could she not see it? You have waited your whole life to see her.

A third voice makes both of you jump at the sudden burst of your moment “Morning” 

Tony Stark trots into the kitchen wearing his head as high as his ego, and eyeing, with mild curiosity, Natasha’s head resting on your hand. You try not to overthink how her posture has gone rigid against you under his gaze- neither of you were expecting to display the change of your dynamic in such little time, you don’t even know exactly what to do with it, yet.

"What am I seeing here, now?"

And poor Tony was just a passerby suddenly caught in a hurricane.

Since Natasha, uncharacteristically, has remained silent, you decide to step in before he starts getting nosy- as he does- and things start to actually get personal in ways you’re both not ready to share.

You pretend to brush dust out of Natty’s face and quickly focus back to the hot cocoas you were doing before getting distracted by the woman “I’m sorry, Tony, I know I shouldn’t have used your whipped cream”

You wear your best puppy face as you hope he redirects his attention elsewhere- as predicted, he does, and his face all but falls as he registers what you have just told him.

“What are you- my whipped cream?” He eyes you in disbelief, shaking the sleep out of his morning body “[Y/N], the one thing I told you not to use-” Tony cuts himself mid-sentence, grabbing possessively the can “We will discuss your attitudes later”

Natasha, now more relaxed as he falls back into his usual antics, allows herself to slightly approach her body to yours again, but dares not to touch it. She fishes her book- until then, long forgotten on her lap, and resumes her reading from yesterday- as she usually did, every morning, until finished your beverages.

You take the sight of her in with a twinkle in your eyes, trying your best not to openly make heart eyes at the woman you publicly antagonized- until yesterday. You risk a look to Tony, who remains way too quiet for being the one who caught you red-handed- almost literally- and, much to the surprise of both you and Nat, who is very much so focused on his own breakfast, and on the can of whipped cream he is holding for dear life.

Deciding to use his unusual behavior for your benefit, you, once again, albeit timidly, reach for Natasha’s cheeks- it’s a soft caress, nothing much longer than five seconds, you won’t risk that much- all you want to do is just touch her and see her blindingly beautiful smile as she feels your caring nuzzles. 

You have come to the realization that it’s not easy to be around the woman without the feeling of her intoxicating you at every given moment.

“Good morning, good morning!” Wanda is the next to arrive at the kitchen, beaming a sleepy smile- first at you, then one that grows bigger at the sight of the closeness between you and Natasha. 

“Good morning, Wands” You excitedly greet her, having almost forgotten to gush to her about everything that has happened, since you haven’t had much time to digest the events yourself.

“Morning, Wanda!” Natasha answers, and the three of you- Wanda, Stark and yourself- make a double take as her voice, usually grounded and under a few armors, today sounds lighter and brighter than any firefly.

With a subtle eyebrow arch, your best friend fights a small smile on her lips and starts to make her own breakfast, but not without making sure to let you know she has noticed the very clear shift in the spirits of the pair of you today.

Oh, you have a lot to tell me, [Y/N/N]

You don’t jump in surprise by the gentle intrusion of Wanda’s voice in your mind anymore, but it never fails to take you slightly off of your feet. You smile impossibly bright against your mug, if there is someone who will hear of you and Nat, it will definitely be her.

You have absolutely no idea, Wands

“Good morning, team” Steve’s energetic voice arrives not much later than Wanda did. 

You can’t help but feel a little closer to him, now, as you’ve learned you’re also - somewhat- of a Super Soldier. It’s something quite irrational, maybe even out of a childish wish, but it feels like you finally know things- real, concrete things- about yourself, you can finally create a true bond with the team.

But, despite your excitement, it’s not you who says a very happy “Morning, Steve!” 

Natasha- beautiful, smiling, glowing, Natasha- looks up from her book once more and welcomes him with a warm smile, two very rare occasions to happen, especially when around you. He doesn’t let it show how much he’s surprised, but a small wink to the redhead is thrown before he follows suit, after Tony and Wanda, to make his breakfast.

Since Natasha can’t help anymore but finally give in to her incessant needs- to touch you and hold you on her own- and, also, because five people in the kitchen create just too much of a cacophony, she closes her book and raises her voice slightly louder, so she can- in an almost nonchalantly way- be heard by all.

“Wanna head to the balcony?” Her neutral tone would have been perfect had it not been badly betrayed by her hopeful, glistening, green eyes- always been seen by you as very cat-like, Natasha, now looks like a very happy puppy.

You nod as you put both of your empty mugs in the sink- dodging Wanda and Steve while doing so “Sure, wanna help me finish some reports later?”

“You’re lucky you’re you” Her grumble is not as annoyed as it used to be, and she almost rushes to stand up. Per the means of her newfound- adorable- actions, you’re sure the team is bound to at least deduce something in no less than a week.

“Oh, if I do know” You smile at her, trying to pry away the blushing of your cheeks before you look like you’ve gotten sunburned- as much as you now understand Natasha a little better, you are very much so not used to being the object of her affections- in fact, you're not very much used to being the object of her anything.

As the two of you head to the balcony, almost tripping on each other’s loving gazes, Wanda turns around to the boys, smiling widely as the Cheshire cat.

“Finally” Steve smiles, finishing his scrambled eggs- he can’t help it, he has always been a tad too romantic-leaning- even a little bit too hopeful, as he has been told, but what can one do when it comes to happy endings- or beginnings- of their loved ones?

Tony hums, scooping an ice cream ball next to his waffle “Took them long enough”

The two men start to open their wallets, given that Wanda has won the bet made by Clint- you and Natasha have taken your heads out of your asses three days before the limit day she had chosen. If she might have had something to do with that, by luring you into talking to her and thus start chasing Natasha- that doesn’t need to be disclosed with them. At the end of the day, you and Nat are finally truly and completely happy- and that’s all she could have wanted for two of the people she loves the most in the entire world.

She shakes her hand dismissively at the money, holding her own tea mug “Keep it, let’s just enjoy our first peaceful breakfast in months”

Tony huffs, backing her up “Amen to that”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

END OF PATH

that's a wrap on this path, lovelies! i hope you've enjoyed this little ride and how it was finished, i love how they thought no one would notice lol thank you so, so much for sticking with me until here! i hope to see you exploring some other paths <3