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acotarxreader · 9 months ago

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Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

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“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone.

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look.

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts.

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them.

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door.

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply.

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them.

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you.

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre.

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another.

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment.

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master.

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness.

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day.

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options.

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back”

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way.

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count.

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down.

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face.

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself.

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?”

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly.

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced.

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds.

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes.

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir.

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead.

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling.

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face.

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp.

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid.

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?”

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees.

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action.

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?”

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding.

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder.

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed.

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality.

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you.

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile.

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully.

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test”

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen.

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were.

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words.

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink.

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged.

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

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“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians.

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action.

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes.

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry.

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me”

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk.

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you.

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him.

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta.

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Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide.

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow.

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much.

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now.

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go.

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

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clandestineloki · 2 months ago

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firefighter miguel ohara x reader (VERY NSFW)

A/N: ang sabi ko december matatapos hindi ko sinabi anong year 😇

cw: smut, creampie, rough sex, things get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

when you first moved into your tiny home, you had gotten most of your stuff into the house by yourself

and the last thing you needed to unload from ur dad's car was your night stand so you carried it since it wasnt so heavy

only you accidentally hit the doorknob with your elbow and it flew off 😭

so you're standing there pacing nervously because you just locked yourself out of your own house LMAO DUMBASS

but to your rescue comes none other than miguel

having just returned from a minor save in his whole firefighter getup (somebody's stove caught on fire in an apartment somewhere but nothing fatal thankfully)

miguel looks to the house on his left

and suddenly believes in angels.

aren't you the cutest lil damsel in distress :}

u're pacing back nd forth and he's trying so hard not to stare at your cute lil ass in those pretty peach shorts 😙

you see him and wave, "pls help, sir!! my door- like- uh- i dont know what happened please help me i have to get this inside huhu"

who is he to say no??

he cracks his knuckles and squares up, making you blush as he grunts and flexes his muscles.

BUT YOU DONT EXPECT HIM TO BREAK DOWN UR DOOR

KICKED IT RIGHT OFF THE HINGES

and strategically kicked it too bc both the door and the hinges were intact, the screws just came off

he brushes his hair back and raises an eyebrow at your wide eyes

too shocked to contradict, you take the nightstand into ur new bedroom and come back to ur porch with a glass of lemonade for him

he thanks you, smirking when you blush and look away.

fixes your door that quickly too like wow

a handyman! maybe u can switch that up and manhandl- *GUNSHOTS*

anyways

for the next week and a half you're out on your porch with ur fat little cat mochi, working on a crochet thing, it's a hobby you recently got into since you're waiting for your cable and internet to get hooked up

and the firetruck drives by and the firetruck guys are blasting music, having a laugh

but miguel oh he always makes it a point to subtly wave at you and wink

it always leaves you flustered bc a very attractive man is giving you attention??

but what if he does it to other girls?? but if he does it to other girls why did one of the truckies ruffle miguel's hair when he caught miguel doing that??

but you just leave it at that, maybe he just wants ur attention and when he has it he'll get fed up and find some other pretty girl :((

until mochi gets the genius idea to chase a screeching squirrel up the tree right between your house and miguel's

"OH MY GOD MOCHI!!!!" you yell. "mochi, please dont move!!"

miguel just got back from a boring day at work, wearing half the firefighter getup and a grey shirt.

his definition of fun is getting to show off why his nickname is "the spider". it's because he almost never uses ladders and climbs the houses with just some rope and his bare hands.

and today was just some fire drill at a high school nearby, and he's a little pissed that nobody was listening because the mic had terrible feedback.

"MOCHI BABY OH MY GOD STAY RIGHT THERE!!"

miguel's head perks up from his phone, brows furrowing when he hears you screaming. he rushes to the 3½ ft fence between your house and his to see you running to the large tree in your backyard.

"leave em', peaches," he sighed and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed. "cats naturally land on their feet, he'll come down in a second."

"NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!" you turn to him, panic clear in your voice. "HE'S BLIND!!"

"oh SHIT" miguel jumps over the fence and runs over to you. "where's the bastard?!"

you gasp at him. "ONLY I GET TO CALL HIM A BASTARD!"

"fine, where is... it?"

"up there, MOCHI PLEASE DONT MOVE!! I'LL GET YOU BABY!"

"i wouldn't do that if i w-"

before miguel can stop you, you're already climbing the tree yourself. smirking, he lifts you off the trunk and into his arms, as if you were a cat yourself.

"peaches, you might wanna leave that to me," he chuckles riiiight up against your sensitive ear. "don't want your pretty little body getting all scratched up, mm?"

you whimper.

"miguel," you mumble, "p-put me down."

you squirm against him, but he growls and holds you closer.

"oh? and what if you're just going to do it again, mm? you gonna be a bad girl?" he asks, tracing his tongue over your earlobe, making you shiver and sink into his arms.

"m-miguel, what are you-"

"y'know bebita... you're terrible at pretending you don't look at me like you wanna fuck me..."

"wh-what?!"

the way he's carrying you reminds you an awful lot of this position you saw in porn. the full nelson. the tiny girl, all flushed and pleasure-dizzy, thighs quivering as she's pounded over and over, trapped in the thick veiny arms of her man as he subjects his little fucktoy to the roughest pounding until her brain is just as liquid as the sticky sweet potent cum leaking out of her -

"oh, look," miguel whispers, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. mochi, despite his lack of eyesight, somehow finds his way down and glares straight through the two of you as if he can actually see the lewd way you're compromised in the arms of your handsome, secretly obsessed with you neighbor.

"there he is, the little furball," he sets you down, his hand lingering on your inner thigh a second too long as he pets the snobby little cat on his head. "your poor mami can't always save ya, y'know. i think she needs me around a lot more, hm?"

he turns to your flustered figure and smirks at your wide-eyed look. "i think you owe me a thank you."

"r-right..." you mumble, scratching the back of your neck nervously, still out of it. "th-thank you..."

to your downright embarrassment, he laughs at your pathetic attempt of speaking, and corners you against the fence.

"i think i need more than just a whisper, peaches," he drawls against your ear, one hand wandering under your shorts as he grins at the way you melt with just a little teasing.

"i'm real thirsty, bebita, so why don't you be a good girl and make me something to drink?"

which leads to right now: you're avoiding eye contact with miguel as he sits on your couch, patting at his forehead with a towel.

you're also avoiding eye contact with the very prominent bulge in his cargo pants.

you hand him a glass of ice, before turning to the fridge and looking through it.

"i-i have some orange juice, water, uh, pepsi if you want-"

"water."

you gulp. "o-okay," you take the pitcher and sit down next to him, and pouring into his glass slowly, staring at his hands because you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

"bebita."

you flinch as you realize you've been pouring too much. the glass is filled to the brim.

[what you don't know is that he wishes you were too]

"s-sorry..." you mumble, scooting away from him slowly. he grabs your wrist and leans into your ear.

"can't we stop dancing around each other like we don't know where this is going?" he growls.

"wait- let me put this down!" you gasp as he pulls you onto his lap roughly, the plastic pitcher in your hands slanting and getting droplets ice-cold water down your chest.

and you have no idea how much it sounds like a dirty little moan when you go, "ngh! miguel!"

before you can even blink, you find yourself pinned down on the couch, the pitcher clattering to the floor. but your heart stops as you come face-to-face with miguel's lustful expression, his dark eyes staring into yours.

"do you have any idea what i want to do to you?"

you whimper shyly, and he curses under his breath, instinctively grinding his hips up into yours, making your breath hitch at the feeling of that right up against your crotch.

"oh you're so fucking cute," he grumbles. "think i'm really gonna break you when i put it in here..."

he torturously drags his palms up and down your legs and grinning like a madman when you whine from the sensations.

"wanted to fuck you since the moment you got here," he whispers darkly, his long fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and underwear. "do a little housewarming n' give you a nice, big welcome all over the couch, the bed, the shower..."

his voice trails off into a breathy shit, baby as he sees your wet pussy clenching around nothin. he looks up at your doe-eyed expression and grins.

"you gotta use your voice, pretty," he teases. "as much as i like starin' at you i can't figure out what you want~"

"i want you..." you whisper. "i want you to fuck me, miguel."

and fuck you he does. he presses his lips to yours and pushes you into the meanest mating press. "dreamed about this for so long," he growled into the kiss as he pulled down his pants. "cute little thing like you got a guy like me jerking off every night--" he starts nipping at your jawline "--ah, like a fuckin' teenager. why am i- fuck, y're so pretty- why am i so in love with you?"

he leans back to adore your flushed, needy state, and finally, finally pulls his dick out. you squeak as he rests over your bare stomach-- thick, veiny, and leaking all over you as if he can't wait a second longer.

when he pushes into you, god, the both of you feel heavenly. it takes all his strength to not plow into you like some ruthless beast. he just bites your neck, and rocks into you slowly as his thumb draws small circles on your clit, hoping to get you to adjust to his size.

it does way more than that, because within a few seconds, you're gasping and seizing under him, twitching helplessly as an orgasm washes over you, making your tight little pussy cream all over him sofucking good.

miguel's patience only lasts a few seconds after you come before his lust overrides him and he pounds you into the couch with every bit of his strength.

"miguel! miguel! oh, fuck- too much-"

you're screaming his name over and over, your walls clenching down on him as he hits the sweetest spots in you with every thrust of his hips. your nails run down his back as he fucks you like his life depends on it, and it hurts so good he can't bring himself to care about anything but you, you, you. cute, shy, innocent, cockdrunk little you.

he's addicted. and he's yours.

miguel feels himself getting close-- and knows you're getting close too, with the way your moans are getting breathier and your eyes are glossing over.

"fuck, i'm gonna fill you up so good, peaches," he groans. "cum with me, princess. make a mess for me~"

he swallows your moans of pleasure with a kiss, and fucks your through your orgasm as his tongue fucks your mouth. you whine and cry, and he spanks the side of your thigh, making you squeak and twitch under him. his thrusts get sloppy until his eyes roll back and he almost groans when he comes, thick, white cum filling you up like you're some kind of creamy pastry.

you shakily push at his chest, but he tsks at you, simply taking your wrists and pinning them to your side as he makes out sloppily, his hips moving slowly as he pushes more of his cum into you.

"take it all, peaches," he whispers hoarsely. "then i'm gonna clean it all out with my tongue~"

"miguel! that's nasty!" you whine, but he's got his mind set on it already, lifting you over his shoulder and heading to your bedroom.

he laughs, then sets you down on the bed, flipping you over with your ass sticking out. you gasp and shiver when you feel two of his thick fingers in your pussy.

"if you think that's nasty you'd faint if i told you what i wanna do with you on your kitchen counter, peaches."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut

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rueclfer · 7 months ago

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shut up, my moms calling // touya todoroki

when you sneak out to share a first at the river.

a/n: back on my touya b.s.

part two

"Jesus, what the fuck happened?"

By the time you approached Touya, you were gasping for air. There he was leaning up against the fence, tossing his flashlight up in the air while he patiently waited for your arrival while it looked like you just came from an animal attack.

You didn't answer him. You were bent over, clutching onto the chain link fence with one hand and the other on your scraped knee as you tried to catch your breath.

"Fuck." You hiss. "God damn."

You look up to see his shit eating grin, holding back his laughter.

"Fuck off." You huff. "My...neighbor's light...came on...so I booked it." You say in between gasps of air.

"And your knee?" He cocked an eyebrow at you clutching onto your ripped jeans and bloodied knee.

"What do ya think? I ate shit." You groan, finally standing up straight. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Like 10-15 minutes? I told you, you should've just asked your dad to sleep over. All this could've been avoided." He shines his flashlight to your knee, illuminating the caked blood leftover on your knee and pants.

"You forget that my dad isn't your biggest fan." You shoot him a sideways glance as you begin to shrug off your backpack, lightly fanning yourself.

"True, but, he's friends with my mom, and my mom likes you so that's an automatic in. Rei would've vouch for you."

"I guess." You mutter under your breath. "Next time we'll have her call my dad and ask for me, then."

Touya slips off his own backpack and tosses it over the tall barrier, letting it softly thump onto the patch of dirt and dead leaves, following it with your own bag.

He starts his climb first, effortlessly making his way to the top and jumping straight off from there, landing into a squat. You followed suit, but of course there he was standing close by behind you to make sure you have all of your bearings and not slip.

"You got it?" He holds out his arms, anticipating your fall.

"Duh."

Once your feet hits the ground, you slip your backpack back on after dusting the remnants of dirt off.

"You have your flashlight?" He asked. "Or do you need one? I have an extra."

You whip out your flashlight from your back pocket and shine it straight onto his face, causing him to wince and block it with his hand.

"Perfect." He groan. "After we get past this tree, it's all rocky and shit, okay? So watch your step because I'm not going to carry you back if you fuck up your other knee."

You silently flip him off. After he returns the gesture, he begins to lead you two deeper into the woods, letting your flashlights guide your way. You weren't really sure where you were heading, but this morning Touya told you that he "knew a spot," so of course here you are now, walking through a forest.

"Touya, look." You whisper, clutching onto the strap of his backpack to stop him and and point your flashlight at the base of a nearby tree, revealing a frog perching on an exposed root. "It looks like you."

"And you look like the piece of dog shit next to it."

At some point, when you were you felt you had possibly walked into the danger zone of the forest and were ready to tell him that you should head back, he turns around and stops you first.

It was sudden, almost causing you to fall back.

"What the fu-" You began, about to scold him for startling you. He grabs your shoulder and holds a finger to your mouth. You press your lips together, searching his face for a sign as to what your reaction should be. Should you be panicking? Is there an animal nearby?

"Shut up and listen." He whispers, cupping his ears.

From the distance, you hear a soft murmuring of continuous running water. You mouth slightly gaped open.

"No way." You mouth, slowly growing into a wide smile. "How much farther?"

"Should just be up ahead. Let's go." He motions for you to continue following him.

After a few more minutes of trekking, the trees open up to a shallow river lined by rocks and boulders. The water was almost still from where you were standing, but from afar, you could hear it rushing down against more rocks that stood in the middle of a stream.

"This is so fucking cool." You beam, turning to him to see him holding onto a tree to take off his shoes.

You two ended up choosing a boulder to perch on, letting your feet hang into the cool water. You close your eyes and take in the hot summer night and ambiance of frogs and the chirping of crickets.

"I actually stole this spot from Natsuo, surprisingly. The nerd took his girlfriend out here to ask her out."

You gasp "Natsuo? A girlfriend?"

"I know." He laughs, keeping his gaze forward. "My little brother has a girlfriend. Hasn't even introduced her to the family yet, that fucker."

"Damn before us too. We really do have no game." You laugh at yourselves.

"Pshh, says you." He waves you off. "At least I've had my first kiss."

You jaw drops and your head snap towards him.

"What? How come you never tell me these things?" You whine. "When was this?"

"Ah, it's embarrassing." He turns his head away to avoid your gaze, obviously regretting revealing that bit of information. In the darkness only illuminated by moonlight, it was hard to tell, but you just knew his ears were turning red. "It was when I was like 8."

"Oh." You deflate. "I mean, that barely counts" You roll your eyes.

"Still counts though."

"Tell me about it then. How was it?" You couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. You were at the bright age of 17 with no experience with romance, let alone a kiss, and you were surprised to hear that your best friend since childhood was somehow one step ahead of you in this category without even trying.

He sits and thinks for a moment, lightly kicking his feet in the water. "Kinda gross. 8 year olds are inherently little grubby and unhygienic things, so imagine two of those pressing their mouths together."

"Figures." You sigh. "We're such losers."

"Who is we? Maybe you're a lovesick loser, but I'm perfectly fine." He flicks water at you, which you return with a handful of river water.

"You really haven't kissed anyone since?" You wiped your hand off on your pants.

"Nope." He popped.

"You're almost 18." You mutter. "Don't you think having a real first kiss is like, a mark of growing up? Maturity?"

"Mmm no I don't think so. That's just life, ya know? It just comes at you and I bet tons of people don't get their first kiss until well into adulthood." He shrugs. "Why do you want yours so bad?"

"Sometimes I feel so behind everyone else." You bring your feet up out of the water and hug your knees, using it as a head rest as you look over at Touya. "Everyone has an admirer, everyone has a romantic interest, everyone has kissed someone, except for me."

"You want your first kiss, then?" He mutters under his breath, looking away from you.

"Huh?" You scoot yourself closer to him, leaning into to his direction. "What did you say?"

"Do you... want your first kiss, then." He says a little bit braver this time, slightly meeting your eye from the side.

Your mouth gaped open and your hands suddenly go sweaty.

"From.. you?" Your eyes widen in surprise.

"I mean, yeah. If you want. Since you're so desperate for it" He starts playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. "Only if you want to though." He quickly adds on.

"You're fucking with me. Do you want to? I know I'm bitching and moaning about it, but you don't have to do charity work, ya know?" You nervously laugh.

"It's not charity work." He quips back "We're best friends, so... I don't know, isn't it easier to do all that with someone you know and trust? If it makes you feel better, I guess this would be my first real kiss too."

You blow out a long breath of air. "Okay... I guess you're right. Best friends.. but, I don't know what I'm doing. Do you?"

"No, I don't." He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "I just figure it's all improvising."

You turn to face him, motioning him to do the same. He takes his feet out of the water and criss cross them, scooting close enough to where your knees meet.

You flick on the flashlight and set it in your lap, letting it slightly illuminate his face. His face is bright red, but you wouldn't dare tell him. Not in this moment. Yours probably was too- you could feel the heat off of it.

"Can't we do this in the dark?" He whines, blocking the light with his hand. "It's embarrassing."

"How am I supposed to see what I'm doing?" You shoot back. "You want me to pretend like it's not you, or something?"

"No." He quietly mutters. "Your eyes are going to be closed anyways. How are you not even a bit embarrassed by this?" He rubs his pink stained cheeks.

"Because you're my best friend, and I love you, and this is all for the purpose of science." You pat his knee, comforting him all while your heart was racing and your hands were clamming up. "And this is your idea so if this blows up in our faces, it's your fault."

"Okay, fine whatever." He rolls his eyes. "For science."

"Put your hands behind your back." You instructed.

"The fuck? Why?"

"Because if you touch me, I'll panic." You pout. "Please."

"Every guy you kiss you're gonna ask them to sit on their hands?" He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up and do it, Touya, before I push you in this river."

He grumbles to himself for a second, but does as you say, interlocking his fingers behind his back.

You place both of your hands on his shoulders, leaning your faces in close. You look down at his lips, parted in anticipation. You could hear his slight heavy breathing layered over the running water in the background.

"Say stop whenever, okay? Okay. You ready?" You whisper. "Not nervous?"

He slowly nods his head, glancing down to your own lips, causing your stomach to flip. "Stop talking and just do it."

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but before you knew it, your lips were connected.

Soft. Warm. Slow. Running out of breath.

Your hands unclench his shoulders and move down to his knees, letting yourself comfortably relinquish control. Your body was on fire, and you were ready to jump up and hide after this, but you kept reminding yourself that this could be considered his first kiss too. You two were doing this together.

Suddenly, you feel his hands placed on top of your own, causing you to tense.

"Don't freak out." He breaks away for a moment to mutter against your lips, before continuing to let his hand climb up.

Right as his hand gets comfortable against the side of your neck, his phone resting in the pocket of his hoodie suddenly starts vibrating, causing you two to pull back, and snapping into realization of what you two had just done.

With wide eyes, you instantly flip off the flashlight and turn your head to avoid his gaze as you lightly pant to catch your breath.

"Fuck." He mutters, running a hand through his hair, looking at the caller-ID.

"Who is it?" You whisper-yell. "Who's calling you at this fucking hour?"

"Shut up, my mom's calling." He leans his head back and groans, rubbing his face in his hands. He hops off the boulder and began feeling around the ground for his shoes.

"Hello?" He slowly answers into the phone.

"Touya! Where are you?" You could hear Rei scold him loud enough even when she wasn't on speaker.

"Sorry, mom. I couldn't sleep so i'm just out and about." He press his phone against and cheek and shoulder as he begins putting his shoes back on, in which you follow suit.

"Is Y/N with you? Please tell me she is, because her dad called."

"FUCK!" You mouth silently to him. "Say no. He's gonna beat your ass. Say no." You whisper to him.

Touya looks at you for a moment, biting his lower lips while debating on what to say to his mom.

"Don't lie to me either. I will find out." She warns.

"Yeah she is, but we're fine." He sighs in defeat.

"Sorry." He mouths to you, reaching his hand up to ruffle your hair.

He starts to pace around, making it harder for you to hear her tucked into his ear.

"No we're just sitting."

"Yes sober....unfortunately." He lightly chuckles. "Okay, okay, sorry." he quickly follows up.

"By the river."

"Yup we have flashlights, pepper spray, and everything."

"She's fine."

"Yes I do know what time it is."

"Mom!" He exclaims, glancing your way with an embarrassed expression. "Yes! We are fully clothed. Stop it."

"We're going to head back right now."

He finally comes closer to you, making a choking motion to his own neck, causing you to giggle at his unfortunate and uncomfortable conversation with his mom.

"Touya." Rei sighs. "Bring her home safe okay? I'll talk to her dad, but we're going to have a chat about this later tomorrow."

"Can Y/N sleep over?" He shoots you a sly glance in which you return with a glare.

"Hello?"

"She hung up on me." He slides his phone into his pocket and shrugs. "Wasn't a no, though."

"Fucking idiot." You huff, gathering your things.

You two began your long trek back towards where you entered, walking side by side now. The air was thick around you two in tension and awkwardness as you waited for the other to bring it up or start a conversation to avoid it all together.

"Thoughts on your second, first kissed?" You break the silent wall and glance up at him.

"Mmmm definitely better than the first." He smirks down at you. "How was it for you? You feel okay?"

"Yeah." You mutter. "It was pretty good." You start "For the purpose of science, ya know."

"For the purpose of science." He repeats. "Any other experiments you wanna try while we're at it?"

"Touya!" You gasp and hit his arm. You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose to cover an incoming blush creeping up your neck.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs at your reaction. "Why are you so embarrassed all of the sudden now that we did it?"

"God you're annoying." You huff. "Why are you all of the sudden not? And flirting with me? Who even are you?"

"I'm just teasing." He nudges you playfully.

"Don't fall in love, now." You warn. "You wanna ruin this friendship so bad. In more ways than one." You mutter, returning the nudge.

"Yeah, whatever." He rolls his eyes, but landed his gaze back on you.

You continue the walk in silence, letting the back of your hands brush every now and then. You would blame the blush tattooed to your cheeks on the humid summer air, and avoid his gaze at all cost until he says something about it (he definitely will), and when you sneak back into his house, you'll go straight to his room where he'll bandage and clean up your knee and let you sleep in his bed while he'll sleep on the floor right beside you. He'll wait for your breathing to steady out into sleep and then he'll silently curse himself out and relive that moment with you at the river.

bonus scene:

the next day when the whole house is awake, fuyumi's sisterly senses slaps her silly.

she just KNOWS that some shit went down between you two. she's naturally so observant, so when she sees you two padding out into the living room for your morning tea with your hair messy, cheeks flushed with a shy smile on your lips, subtle glances at one another and his oversized shirt hanging on your shoulders, she just knew she has to ask one of you about your late night rendezvous.

it's not the first time she's seen you like this in the morning. you had been close to the family and her older brother's best friend for years now, but she instantly sniffed out a different aura emanating from you two.

"touya, can you help me grab something from the top of my closet?" fuyumi motions for touya to follow her to her bedroom.

"sure." he shrugs nonchalantly. "keep my tea warm." he shoots you a coy wink.

touya follows fuyumi into her room, a silence falls between then until the moment she clicks her door closed.

"before you ask, nothing happened." he rolled his eyes as if he was already anticipating her interrogation.

maybe her brother's instincts were much stronger than her's...

"liar!" fuyumi squeals. "it's all over your faces! mom was so pissed at you last night, where did you go?"

"we went by the river where nat asked out his lady." he shrugs.

"and then? i know something happened!" she presses on "tell me!"

"its nothing. just that.. we might have...kissed." he tries hiding the smile behind his arm. "crazy, right?"

she silently squeals some more, jumping and slapping her brother's arm in celebration.

she had known about her brother's crush for a while now, how could she not? they were only a couple of years apart, so it would be impossible to keep things a secret from one another.

"and what else? did you ask her out?" she looks up at him with stars in her eyes.

"one step at a time, little sis. stay tuned." he pats her head and goes back to join you and attend to his tea, which you of course, kept warm.

#this has been rotting in my drafts for too long #secretly wanted to keep this to myself forever #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabixreader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi todoroki #dabi

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lmaowhatt · 2 months ago

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pogue beach night - jj m.

summary: the pogues have come back to obx as a form of unwinding after jjs near death experience in morocco, at the hands of his biological father, deciding that a beach day in their 'safe-haven' would be best.

set: i chat gpt'd the timelines and it says the start of s4 is based around early 2024, which doesnt make sense because s3 (after the 18 month time jump) for me ended around march 2023. so, we will act like sarah found out she was pregnant may 2023 and baby jj was born february 2024. since she is seven months, well pretend this is mid-september 2024.

one - two - three - four

psa: jarah had their baby and named her josephine joy. she is around 7 months.

pairing: jj maybank x pogue!reader

warnings: suggestive words/topics, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy trope, cursing.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

the sun has only just began to set as the scenery changed from small rundown houses, trees on the edge of the streets of the cut to miles and miles of sand that never seemed to end, along with the sound of waves crashing against the shore as jj whooped from hit spot in the twinkie behind john b, who was in the drivers seat.

"i love this shit guys. its like christmas and sex rolled into one." the boy smiled giddily, everyone else in the twinkie twisting their faces with looks of disgust. "why those two things together, jj?" pope voiced, a grimace evident as jj turned in his seat to face him. "you dont want the deets, pope." he patted the boys shoulder in false sympathy, only causing pope to sit back in his seat with a quiet groan, shoving jjs hand off.

you let your mouth drop agape, slapping the boys chest with a small gasp once he sat back upright, "youre so disgusting." the boy only retaliated with a shit-eating grin on his face, "im still injured, y'know? you somehow wound me more, baby." he jokes. leaning down slightly to mutter in your ear, "plus, with all the 'disgusting' pleas i had you whimpering into my ear last night, i think we can both say youre equally as 'disgusting', hm?" you could only roll your eyes as jj brought his fingers into a quotation mark, a smirk playing on his face as a blush crept onto your cheeks, which only caused jj to smile triumphantly and sit back to look out the window.

john b could only groan quietly from the drivers seat, fake gagging as sarah stifled a laugh from next to him. the boy was never a good whisperer.

this was one of those very special days in the pogues lives where everything in the eight pogues lives was calm. the group was able to get their home and business back after finding a loophole in the paperwork that was filed when it was taken from them.

it was one of those rare days when everyone had a moment to themselves—either taking a break from the bait-and-tackle shop, calming baby josephine joy, or simply having nothing to do. it was a beach day, at least for the pogues it was. from your spot between jj's legs, you watched as kiara played with baby jj, the little girl's hands wrapped around kies thumbs. you watched as kies boyfriend, james, watched her and baby jj with a small smile.

you smiled, leaning back into jj’s stomach as you fiddled with his ring-clad hand, his other hand gently massaging the back of your head. "alright, guys," john b called to the group as he shifted the twinkie into park.

"we have arrived." he finished with a droopy smile and squinted eyes, causing kie to snort, "okay, batman." she joked, erupting small laughs from the rest of the group as they climbed out of the twinkie one by one.

when jj stepped out of the twinkie, he held a hand out for you, which you accepted gratefully with a small smile directed towards him. he helped everyone else out of the twinkie, or more so stood there holding the door until the last person, pope came out.

jj slapped the boy's butt with a flat palm as he shut the twinkie door. pope gasped, while cleo chuckled softly, careful not to give jj the satisfaction of knowing he’d made even the toughest of the group laugh with a very, very terrible joke.

when you and the girls looked away to help john b get the things off the roof of the twinkie, pope blew a fake kiss to jj, one which the blonde caught in his hands, holding it to his chest like a 1960's sitcom.

the two laughed almost immediately after, wrapping an arm around each others shoulders as they walked to where the rest of the group was now setting up chairs and towels not too far from the shore.

jjs eyes shifted to where you were with baby jj as pope left his side to go to where cleo was. he smiled as josephine rested on your hip and you pointed out different views in the distance and she babbled along. he approached your left side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, running his fingers along josephines scalp.

you smiled up at him, leaning into his chest slightly, "y'know..." he trailed off as he looked down at you with the same affectionate smile. "maybe one day we could have one of these lil' munchkins." he finished as he took note of your immediate surprised smile. you truly didnt expected hed be one to commit to kids.

"uh, um. i mean like- obviously like- i mean later into our relationship, y'know? shit- sorry." he stammered as he removed his hand from your shoulder with a sheepish smile. you laughed, placing your non occupied hand on his shoulder, "baby, dont worry. i just didnt think youd be one to commit to a kid," you explained with a small smile, rubbing your thumb along his shoulder.

he shrugged, now a little more relieved, "i d'know mama, you're changing me," he bumped your shoulder with his playfully, earning a small laugh from you, only widening his smile. "well, im glad," you say before looking towards josie, who held a strand of your hair in her small hand. "id be up for one, later, y'know. plus, i think youd be a good dad." you turned back to jj with a smile.

his heart warmed at your small compliment. "really? y'think so?" you nodded at him, turning slightly to hand josephine off to sarah who had come over with her hands slightly outstretched. you closed your finger to your palm repeatedly as a small goodbye as she did the same. you smiled, turning back to jj, "yeah, i know.. uhm, what you went through," you nodded cautiously.

"and.. i know youll push to be the furthest from that," you finish as he smiles, genuinely. he felt a small tear threaten to fall from the corner of his eye, so, he quickly pulled you into a hug, hoping you didnt catch his teary eyes. you huffed a breath of air out slightly before wrapping your arms around his waist.

you felt him shake slightly so you pulled away, placing your hands on either side of his face guiding him to face you. you tilted your head to the side with a small pout, rubbing your thumb on his undereye with a small chuckle. "baby, dont cry. im sorry," you apologized, moving your gaze back to his eyes.

"shit, youre right. were at the fuckin' beach," he scoffed removing his face from your hands, trying to dismiss his own feelings. "hey, dont do that. c'mere." you tugged his hand slightly back towards you as he tried to walk away. "i didnt mean it like that, im sorry. i didnt mean to make you cry, baby. i just- i mean i know if we ever had a kid, youll be the greatest dad ever." you wiped another tear that had fallen, "i know all the shit youve been through, dont think you cant cry because of that, mkay?"

you smiled as he nodded, "yeah, okay." he tilted his head slightly, wiping his own eyes. "you okay now? im sorry for saying like you cant cr-" you continued until he shook his head, pulling you into another hug, placing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "thank you, mamas." he muttered into your hair as you hugged his upper torso. "'course my love." you smiled up at him as he pulled away. wrapping your arms around his neck, you placed a small kiss onto his lips.

"okay," you patted his chest. twice, glancing at the water, "go, have fun." you smiled at him before pointing a stern finger in his direction, "be careful with that cut, alright? its still healing." you raised his shirt slightly to look at the gash on his left abdomen. he chuckled, pulling his shirt back down, "hey, we cant do that here," he joked as you pushed his chest with your lips pulled into a line.

"im serious. just please be careful!" you called after him with a small smile on your face as he ran into the water where john b, pope and james were playing around with baby josephine. you ran a hand through your hair as you approached the girls, "you trust your husband and those idiots with her, sarah?" kie asked with a small laugh, earning laughs from the other girls. "not really, but i can tolerate him so, its fine. plus he knows how pissed i get even when he tosses her in the air, so.." she shrugged, sitting down on her towel.

you shook your head with a small laugh, "im happy you two finally got married- or were able to. youve been together since you two were like sixteen." you sat down on jjs lawn chair, towel placed over it. sarah furrowed her eyebrows in mock offense, "okay, well you and jj have been together almost three years, i dont see you two moving along," she states matter of factly, "we have not," you scoffed in return.

cleo raised her eyebrows, "yes you have, girl. right before we left to south america, remember?" she moved her head forwards slightly as if to get her point across further. you face slightly dropped, "shit, we have. i mean- after everything i kinda lost track of time." kie nodded in understanding, "girl, youll be okay. i forgot about me and james first anniversary because of everything thats happened," you, sarah and cleo laughed, "he forgot too so," the girl shrugged. "made me feel better," she added sheepishly as you and the other girls laughed once again.

the early afternoon soon turned into early to mid dusk, the sun had just set beyond the horizon, setting a yellow hue onto the beach as the boy started a fire, more so playing around than actually lighting said fire. "john b! please, be careful!" sarah called out to the man as he played around with josephine too close to the fire for the umpteenth time.

"jeez, that man is going to give me a heart attack," she muttered to the girls as they grabbed multiple of the things set down to move to where the guys where setting up. you laughed, "'bout time. hes been giving me an aneurysm since grade school." you and kie both laughed with a small high five, "jj, too. join the club girl." kie quipped as cleo nodded, "guess i got lucky," she shrugs, motioning to pope who was busy with james actually setting up the fire.

you narrowed your eyes at her as the four of you walked towards the guys and baby jj, "once these guys corrupt him, youll join the club too, girl. dont worry," you mocked her with a small kissy face, one to which she rolled her eyes to. "they already corrupted james. couldn't keep him innocent for even a year," kie fake wiped a tear from her eyes, the other girls laughing.

almost immediately, sarah handed john b the things in her hand and grabbed josephine from his shoulders, placing her on her hip and handing her a random toy she had in her diaper bag.

you handed jj the things in your hands too, more politely than sarah had. "can you set this up please, j?" you questioned, placing a small kiss on his lips. he smiled at the gesture, "yes ma'am," he saluted you, hitting himself in the face with the bag of food they brought. you laughed with a shake of your head, walking off to where sarah was sitting, the backseat entrance of the twinkie, door open.

you turned slightly to where baby josie was, sitting on the floor of the twinkie as she sat and played with random toys, "y'know.. jj said he wants to start trying for one," you told sarah, who was watching you and josie. "really? him?" she asked as she moved closer into the twinkie. you nodded in response with a small chuckle, "yeah, i was surprised too. but," you shrugged, "i dont know. i wouldnt be opposed to it,"

she pushed your shoulder playfully, "youd be a good mom, seriously. and i know for a fact hed be a good dad." she reassures, to which you nod your head, "yeah, i know." sarah furrows her eyebrows, "whats wrong?" she asked. you shook your head, "its nothing. i was just caught by surprise with it, y'know?"

the blonde in front of you smiled sympathetically, "i get it, honey. but at least you know he wants this. i was scared shitless when i found out about josie, didnt even wanna imagine john bs reaction." the woman began, mentioning the previous conversation the two of you had.

"but jj came to you, basically saying he was ready, i dont think you have to worry about that. but, he wont be pissed if youre not ready, he loves you." she placed a hand on your shoulder, tilting her head slightly. you nodded, moving your hands to pick josephine up, placing her on your lap as he placed her hands on both sides of your face.

you smiled, "one of these would be really cute," you looked at josies baby features, in awe. from her chubby thighs, to her small pigtails adorned with small white bows, you smiled. you heard a small crashing sound, looking up at jj, who was now lying flat on the sand as john b fake stabbed a stick into his chest, "god, would that baby be an idiot though," sarah laughed, which only caused a laugh to erupt from your throat as well. handing baby josie back to sarah, the both of you stood and approached the other six, all sat with their respective couple around the fire.

you approached jj as he sat down, sitting down next to him and placing your legs over his lap. you moved your head to rest on his chest, his arm going around your shoulders while he moved his other hand onto your thigh closest to him. "you okay?" he asked, looking down at you with a small smile. you nodded, "im okay, baby," you assured him.

he rubbed small circles on your thigh as the high energy settled. the boys were quietly conversing with each other, beers in hand as the girls pitched in every now and then, mostly enjoying the small moment of peace they had gotten after going through years of torment and bad news.

this was it.

the pogue life.

#lmaowhatt #rudy pankow #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj one shot #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks x reader #oneshot #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks fluff #obx season 4

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lady-ashfade · 23 days ago

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Different Hybrids S/O: Pt.1.

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Iida, Katsuki Bakugo, Mina Ashido, Hanta Sero

Warnings: spelling errors, it’s 9am and I haven’t gotten any sleep, hybrid au, fluffy, hcs, Adhd, blind reader, other stuff but it’s all good!! Everything is just for the hybrid type.

͙͘͡★ theses are just some silly ideas for hybrids, and I will be doing character with other types!

★ Izuku who has a bunny s/o, and someone who is constantly bouncing off the walls. You have your calm moments but only after almost breaking everything in the apartment. Izuku chasing you around as you run through the rooms, looking and picking up everything that catching a your attention. One time, you ran out your shared home and down the halls….Izuku wasn’t too happy about having to catching you and drag you back — But you were passed out in his arms before you could even get his lecture.

★ Tenya with a bat!hybrid s/o, who doesn’t really have eyesight. His partner is quite mostly, not really one to speak but only in battles because of their high pitched voice. A clingy thing who flocks to him, staying by him in most public settings but also enjoys their alone time. Who is always in the dark, and Tenya often finds them hanging from the ceiling to take naps. S/O is always watching things turn to chaos around them but just chills, and a Tenya who screams to try and calm everything down. Tenya is the only one allowed to touch their wings. Plus, dried fruit chips are always on him just for you.

★ Mina who has a Lion!Hybrid S/o who matches her personality so well. That hybrid has pride, and confidents. Mina shows them off so much, she dresses them up with outfits that show off their mane. Reader is constantly getting their nails done, clipped and shaped….Mina is the only one safe from danger. The reader has hissed and growled at old nail techs, but now only whines and groans in pain with Mina, who tells them to stop being a baby. Mina however knows how the reader walks around her, constantly showing off even tho she’s their girlfriend. Showing off just to keep her. And…Mina loves it so much when reader lowly growls when someone approaches her, jealous but protective.

★ Katsuki who has a Cat!Hybird s/o. They are constantly hitting heads, but they so also so sweet and fluffy behind closed doors. Reader hisses at their boyfriend, and he does it back, a lot of people watch for about ten minutes before reader is standing weird before pouncing on their boyfriend and then they fight…In a non violent way but there are bites showing on kats arms later, ripped shirt by their claws and constantly rolling around while wrestling. Kats who finds it comforting when they purr when they sleep. The way he can feel the vibrations, makes him feel loved that they can relax in his presence. Kats who loves that your ears twitch with sounds, and when your tail waves….Kats is constantly grinning when your tail gives away your mischievous plans.

★ Sero who has a Koala!Hybird s/o. Sero is Hyper, or he can be calm and yet his lover is fine with either. We all know he loves hammocks, for his s/o matches him so well. They like to sleep or nap in trees, but he makes them sleep indoors. Sero only finds the best leaves for you to eat and knows the ones you hate, never thought koalas were picky with their plants until he met you. You do love his friends, well they are yours too, you just go off in a separate room to read or nap. They are all fine with it. Since you have extra padding and hands to help climb, he is always showing off the clips of you saving cats from trees and such. Tho you aren’t a big pro! You are still a hero, his favorite hero. And you better believe he loves having you as his backpack while he cleans around your home as you’re passed out on his shoulder.

͙͘͡★ want more of this? Like or reblog, or even ask me with what you want!

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 4 months ago

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You all know what time it is ( and body dysmorphia is mentioned a few times just thought I would let you know!)

🐍Snake empress Danny🐍

Ok let’s go, So you all know the drill Danny has to booket it out of amity ( GIW, Bad Fenton) and just for a bit more angst everyone who he loves ( Sam, Tucker, jazz) got caught up in the nasty burger explosion and the GIW hit Dani and as a last minute decision Danny has to grow her in himself and because he has the organs for baby incubation ( trans! Danny let’s go! ) so now we have a heavily traumatized teen who is going to be a teen mom and just loss his whole support system and everything he’s ever known yeah we going angsty today anyway so when Danny gets to the ghost zone he a immediately goes to clockwork to help him so after Danny gets healed up a bit and calm down the best he can right now and

now let’s move the pov for a sec so clockwork can’t really take care of Danny and he needs to fine someone who can that’s when he remembers the little pocket dimension that is a little bit hard to go to if your not looking for it so clockwork brings Danny there and on a cliff top there is a abandoned castle that is overgrown and has trees all around it and a healthy population of snakes that equally watch over the place and keeping outsiders OUT and do not tolerate people who are not a part of the …. Group, pack? Wtf do you call a group of snakes { ok so I just looked up what a group of snakes is called and apparently it’s called a den, pit or nest so I’ll be using that information} den and are very picky about who is in the nest and who isn’t but surprisingly the little danger noodles decide that Danny’s friend shaped and now his part of the nest ( also before I forget to mention there is a big ass snake that is the main protection for the others and the castle itself ) and he’s mostly doing things around with the snakes wrapped limply around his neck and shoulders or his arm and or legs they just like hanging around Danny for the most part

And for the JL side of this well you remember that this place is its own little pocket dimension well it is connected to the JL universe and it sorta feels like your in a Fea area not uncomfortable just different, it has a passage in Gotham City to a overgrown manhole cover so somehow Damien finds this manhole in the garden of Wayne manner and Bruce grounded ( aka benched ) him and Alfred is shopping and nobody’s home so it’s just him and he decides to go into the manhole cover it leeds down to a large tunnel so big it is a surprise nobody has found it yet so Damian walks down it for about 2 to 4 minutes before he sees another cover and has to use a lot of force to open it and as he climbs out he sees that it was overgrown to the point that the vines were wiring the thing shut and as Damien looks around he dust himself off he sees that he is in a large forest almost to large if this place was really Gotham than this would have been cut down years before it got like this so he walks around and than he gets to a lagoon it looks like no pollution got here as well that’s when he sees them a person the person has long white hair that looks to be in some kind of braid with silver chains and their wearing what seem like a bunch of white fabric at first glance but is you really look it seems to be a dress but that’s not what really brings his attention to this person it is the snake that are wrapped limply around them one black one that hangs off their shoulders and looks some what of a necklace and they are holding what seems to be a large black marble bowl ( the bowl is for some of the aquatic plants some birds ended up eating most of the aquatic plant and there are almost none left so he’s getting some from the lagoon)

And that’s all for the moment. Now on to the details of this bitch!

I’m thinking Danny looks a little bit like this

The reason he wears this is because it’s easier to walk around in ( not to mention the moment the rest of the den realized he was with fetus Dani ( or Eleanor I like that name better for her it gives her a bit of her own personality instead of just Danny clone) the big snake who were going to call Vesper ( you get it ) started to carry him around and while sleeping he would wrap around him to keep him warm ok got a bit off track

And for his hair I’m thinking he lets it grow out a bit and the little danger noodles like to bring him bits and pieces of things they think he might like so he ends up with this

But instead of gold I’m thinking silver

Also just some pics of what I think the castle will look like in some places

Anyway that’s all from me byeeee

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aurumalatus · 5 months ago

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𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟐]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of abuse/alcoholism

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘

Summer brings longer days and sunrises that spill like molten gold over the horizon.

Kinich sits by the river to watch, washing clothes in the bubbling water and listening to his mother hum nearby. Her voice is lovely like this, carried lightly along the wind, part of her he wishes he would’ve inherited. She has these rare moments of peace sometimes, when she’s among her crops and the weather is gentle, where she’s temporarily able to forget about the house-shaking fights from the night before. Kinich tries not to disturb her in those times; mostly, he learns just by watching her.

His father, on the other hand, stays out later every day—longer days mean more time to gamble, and Kinich is often left yawning by the time the front door slams open. Their Mora pouches grow tighter and tighter, and his mother stops bringing him to the market with her.

One day, she stops going at all.

Then, she stops humming.

Kinich gets used to having the same meals every day—he eats Grainfruit so much that he gets sick of it, and vows that once he has the option, he’ll never eat it again. He stops thinking about making friends and starts thinking about his own survival. When he has some time, he finds ways to make his own fun anyway; he harvests plants to weave into rope, then makes his own swings on the trees nearby. He finds that he likes the feeling of flying through the air, though he hasn’t quite gotten advanced enough to do any true climbing yet.

Every so often, Kinich thinks about the tribe. He can hear them occasionally, on nights of celebration—the firelight and vivacious laughter pierce the night, even all the way out here. He hasn’t gotten the chance to visit the main village in a while, and courier visits are infrequent, not that his parents receive much mail anyway. Perhaps a mountain of bills, if nothing else.

In even rarer moments, he thinks of you.

It comes on days when his mother locks herself in her room and his father disappears for hours, the quiet desire for companionship. He feels truly stupid even pondering it, but he wonders how you’re doing sometimes. He wonders if you ever learned how to make flower crowns, and if the other kids in the tribe are being nice to you again.

He wonders if you’re alone, and sometimes, he wonders if he could be too.

“Yanta passed away,” his mother murmurs one day, cutting up a Grainfruit. Kinich’s stomach lurches at the thought of taking another bite of the crop, but he says nothing; he never complains to his mother. Instead, he stands beside her at the kitchen counter on a short stool, carefully grinding grain into flour. “The courier came by today and told me.”

For a moment, Kinich says nothing. Observant as he is for his age, he gauges his mother’s expression—she’d known Yanta a long time, after all. But she doesn’t look sad, at least not truly. Instead, she just looks…resigned.

“I’m sure she’s in a better place now,” he manages to reply.

His mother smiles bitterly. The knife cuts through the soft fruit with too much force, blade hitting the cutting board with a loud thud—Kinich nearly flinches at the sound.

“I’m sure she is.”

They lapse back into silence, and his mother stares out the kitchen window, wistful. He tries not to think about that too much, because he’s unsure how to feel about the implications.

(He knows she’s thinking about somewhere far away, but he wonders if he’s in that vision, too.)

Kinich learns that the price of his mother’s smile is his own usefulness—she smiles when he brings home larger harvests. When he can contribute, she ruffles at his hair and tenderly takes the basket from his hands. He finds that he likes that feeling—being useful, being needed. It’s the reason why he works so hard, the reason why his small hands form calluses, skin turning rough from labor.

A commotion sounds from outside—his father is home. His mother places the knife down immediately, moving on pure instinct. She takes up the cloth by the sink and wipes down her hands. It’s a pitiful thing, full of holes and threadbare from years of use. Kinich thinks he should weave a new one the next time he has a chance; the thought that it might please his mother makes his chest warm.

“Go to your bedroom,” his mother orders, hurried. The flour sits on the counter, forgotten, only half-finished. He looks at it longingly, even as his mother pushes him out of the kitchen.

He just manages to slip into his bedroom by the time the front door slams open, nearly flying off the hinges. Kinich’s eyes flutter shut, lips pressed into a thin line—the losses today must’ve been worse than usual.

“Don’t slam the door! Kinich is sleeping,” his mother argues. There’s a series of groans and squeaks—his father is stumbling into the furniture again, probably making a mess. “What’s got you so upset already?”

“It was the damn orphan kid,” his father slurs, spitting on the floor. Kinich silently seethes in disgust. “She’s always running around our fucking property, guess since she’s got nowhere else to go.”

Kinich isn’t sure who his father is referring to, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. The screams outside the door grow louder, until it feels like the walls of the house will fall from the noise. If he were any younger, he might’ve folded his pillow over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. He’d stopped doing that years ago, though, having grown used to the chaos.

His mother screams and cries until the daylight disappears completely, and his father yells and inflicts as much damage as he can—both to the house and to his wife. Kinich pretends to be asleep the whole time, grip tight on his blankets. It’s not until the moon rises in the sky, watchful, that his parents tire themselves out, retiring to bed with fresh bruises.

It’s quiet, at least for a bit.

The next day, Kinich rises with the sun.

His mother is already outside, and his father is…somewhere. It doesn’t really matter where the man is, only that he isn’t here, and Kinich can enjoy the fleeting peace. The routine comes easily to him in the mornings—he sets about rearranging the scattered dining chairs and dragging the table back into place. It’s a useless endeavor, he knows, considering they’ll probably end up downed again by tomorrow. But there’s something about these small victories, in which he can pretend his house is normal for the day—where he can pretend it’s just him and his mom.

He cleans quietly, humming to himself, then decides against it—it doesn’t sound like when his mother does it.

She comes back inside a few minutes later, not sparing him a word. It makes something sting in his chest, the lack of recognition—he’d hoped she would praise him for tidying up, or maybe ask him to help her harvest. Still, he continues cleaning, grabbing a broom to sweep up the remnants of things his parents had broken in anger. He sweeps up smashed bottles, careful to avoid the glass, before stopping at the mess under the counter. He pauses.

For reasons he can’t explain, the sight makes him inexplicably sad:

The bowl of half-ground flour, shattered into a thousand pieces and flung across the floor.

When the air cools and leaves begin to fall from the trees, a ghost appears in the forest.

Kinich first notices it one morning after he goes outside to water his crops and check on their growth. The forest leaves are still full-bodied by this time, but they’re turning; as he walks, the emerald ceiling turns to deep reds, burnt oranges, and pale yellows. Yesterday, the breeze was gentle, but today it nips at his skin—he pulls his thin jacket tighter around himself.

He’s not a superstitious or fearful person by any means. He’s grown used to being alone over the years, and the creaks of the house and the whispers in the forest don’t scare him like they used to.

Still, he’s inclined to admit the chill that runs through his blood when he finds the small bag of berries awaiting him.

It’s placed in such a specific location that he can’t help but feel it’s meant for him—a stone that marks the perimeter of his garden plot. There’s no note, though he checks thoroughly for one, nor any indication of who it might be from. The thought makes him a bit uncomfortable—no one from the village usually comes through here. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, but he finds himself rushing home after the fact.

The gifts don’t stop coming.

It’s always inconsequential, little things like cheap candies and leaf whistles left on stones. They’re placed in very particular spots—areas around his crops, around his traps, or the trees where he usually sits to be alone. Kinich starts to feel like someone is watching him, and the shadows in the forest seem to loom a bit longer than usual. A collection of tiny trinkets and treats grows in the corner of his bedroom.

It takes three more weeks before he discovers that ghosts are, in fact, not real.

With the temperatures dropping, he decides to visit his crops a bit later than usual that day, when the sun is fully up and provides some semblance of warmth. The thought of the ghost still lays dormant in the back of his mind, but it’s less of a concern—after all, it doesn’t seem to pose a threat.

(And really, he can’t complain about having extra candy every now and then.)

He just about reaches the clearing when he spots a shadowed figure knelt over his crops. Initially, Kinich mistakes it for a wild animal—there’s no shortage of them around here, and they’re always interested in chewing at his plants. He readies himself to scream in an attempt to scare it away, but it suddenly moves in a way that is distinctly human—he freezes where he stands. Slowly, cautiously, he leans forward in the foliage to get a better look.

The figure rises just as his eyes narrow on the small object now laying on the stone.

It’s a crown, woven with jade and gold flowers.

“It’s you,” he breathes, mostly out of shock. You jolt like a deer in the headlights at the sound, eyes wide, and there’s a beat of silence before you turn and sprint away. Truthfully, Kinich considers himself a smart kid, but even he feels dumbfounded by the whole situation. It takes him about another second to start chasing after you, an impromptu game of tag with no clear objective.

“Stop!”

You’re quite swift for a child, but Kinich is faster, knows these woods better; he catches up to you with ease, and his fingers wrap around your wrist in a fashion that reminds him of when you first met. This time, you try to break out of his grip, but it only makes him hold tighter. In a panic, your ankle catches on a tree root, and that’s all it takes for both of you to go tumbling down.

Kinich hits the ground hard, tangled in your limbs, and he groans when his shoulder skids in the dirt—instantly, his mind is assessing the value lost in the event of an injury. If he gets hurt, how will he pay for it? How will he hunt? How will he harvest?

The thought just makes him angrier as he straightens to his feet, unsteady and brushing grime off his clothes. You’re a bit slower to rise, still on your hands and knees—Kinich pulls you up by your collar instead, lips curled into a snarl.

“Why are you running from me? Why are you leaving these things?” The words come out in a hiss, frustration boiling over. “Why are you doing this?”

You tear out of his grip, looking just as indignant.

“Because Chief Wayna said you’re lonely!”

Nearby, birds flock away from the noise, a rush of darkness flying overhead.

Kinich flinches at your words—he’s not even sure if it’s true, but the notion of it sends a pulse of lightning through his heart. Lonely? He turns away, fists clenched.

“Well, he’s wrong. So you can go back to the village.”

“I don’t think he’s wrong,” you say, arms crossed. “You’re the only kid out here, right? That would make anyone lonely.”

He thinks of his parents; on an average day, it’s true that they don’t talk very much. But that doesn’t make him lonely—in fact, he thinks he’s doing just fine by himself. Thinking of friends and other things makes him less useful to his mother, and he despises that thought.

“You don’t even know me,” he argues, eyes narrowed, and you huff.

“I don’t. But that’s why I’m here,” you say. Kinich watches as you squat to the ground, thumbing over the thin petals of the flower crown. “Because I want to know you. I want to be friends. Is that so bad?”

He rolls his eyes. “There’s plenty of other kids in the village. Go play with them.”

You’re more stubborn than you let on, he realizes. Because even as he explains every reason why you shouldn’t be here, your feet remain firmly rooted in place, a pout written over your lips.

“I don’t want to play with them. I want to play with you.”

He’s not sure why the words hit him as hard as they do—you’re just a child who wants to play. Maybe you’re bored with the other kids, or maybe they still don’t like you, but it’s not like you’re coming to him out of genuine necessity.

(Distantly, he reminds himself that he’s a child too. He forgets that sometimes.)

“...Why me?” he probes, tentative. “Why does it even matter to you?”

You seem to sense that a crack has formed in his resolve, and your expression softens. The wind rushes by as you outstretch one hand, holding the flower crown out to him—an olive branch.

“Because you’re the one who offered to help me back then,” you say, nearly a whisper, “and that matters to me.”

For the second time since he’s met you, Kinich finds himself genuinely speechless. He’s not a talkative person to begin with, but it’s not out of a lack of things to say—it’s out of a lack of necessity. There’s no need to speak in the life he lives, only to move. To survive. But here you are, latching onto him simply because you want his company.

I don’t need friends, he thinks desperately.

Before he can stop himself, he gently plucks the crown from your hands.

You smile.

In the next few weeks after that, Kinich lets you come around, if only for a few hours.

The forest clearing becomes your meeting place—he learns a lot about you among the crunching leaves and bare trees. He learns that you’re an orphan, that your favorite season is spring, that you think his eyes are pretty. You don’t tend to think before you speak, only saying things as they come to mind. In a lot of ways, you’re his opposite.

He’s not sure what the feeling is that takes root in his chest.

Next, he teaches you what he knows. You had suggested it offhandedly one day, that he might teach you how to weave—that maybe you might be able to do something more complex than flower crowns. He had been a bit hesitant—he doesn’t consider himself an expert, after all—but relented after you asked over and over.

(He always seems to relent when it comes to you.)

He finds that he likes the way your eyes sparkle when he teaches you something new, or when you successfully try something for the first time. You’re overjoyed when you weave your first rope, when your traps come back full, when your first plant finally blooms. Kinich merely watches, a warmth permeating his chest. He starts to crave your company, the way you cling to him, the way you need him. Soon, he starts to think that a small part of him might have needed you too.

Despite his willingness to spend time with you, he’s quite strict with your time—once the sun dips, he’s quick to send you off.

“Go home,” he says, looking pointedly toward his house. He’s always waiting for something. “And don’t let anyone see you.”

You never disobey, mostly because you have no reason to—ascending the mountain in the dark is difficult anyway, and you don’t want to overstay your welcome.

And though his house still shakes and rocks with screaming every night when he returns, Kinich finds it a bit easier to sleep when he thinks of meeting you the next day.

Kinich’s mother disappears on a winter night.

Something startles him awake, and his eyes slide open to see the moon hanging over the inky sky. It’s uncharacteristically quiet, save for the subdued snoring of his father passed out on the couch. At times like these, Kinich misses the warmer months; the river outside has long since frozen over, and he sometimes relied on its steady bubbling rush to put him to sleep.

These days, it’s too cold for you to make the trip down the mountain. The ice makes it far more dangerous to make the descent, and even someone as stubborn as you wouldn’t risk it. Kinich thinks he finally understands what loneliness means.

Winter also means more time spent inside, and forced quarters with his father. The weather seems to take a toll on the man—he skips work more and more these days, citing an ache in his bones. Kinich’s mother works longer days now, desperate to feed them all. He helps as he can, setting traps in the forest to catch wild game, but it’s not enough sometimes. Some days, he sleeps with his stomach empty.

He sits up in bed, slow.

He’s still short enough that his feet barely dangle above the ground when he swings his legs over the edge, wincing when he first makes contact with the cold floor. It had been snowing when he had first fallen asleep, cheek stinging from the force of his father’s hand. Outside, a blanket of white is settling, still undisturbed by human interference. His footsteps are light, trained from years of practice.

The door creaks open, millimeters at a time, lest he accidentally wake his father. He peeks a single eye out of the crack, observing how the man lays draped over the couch. Several bottles of alcohol lie vacant on the table, emptied down his father’s throat in one of his fits of rage. He’d lost more Mora than usual today—Kinich’s mother had been the unfortunate scapegoat for his anger, and Kinich as well when he came to her defense.

He slips through the opening in the door, agile, creeping past his father’s sleeping form and into the kitchen. It’s still a mess, as a result of earlier. One of the cabinet doors sits unlatched at an awkward angle, evidence of the fight. Kinich’s fingers twitch to fix it, but decide against it; it would make too much noise, and the cabinet is bare anyway.

He moves on.

His mother’s bedroom—technically his parents’ bedroom, but the two haven’t slept together in years—is half-visible through a crack in the door, but it doesn’t look the same as he remembers. The bedsheets are smoothed down, his mother nowhere to be seen. He glances out the window again—there are times when she awakens in the middle of the night to take walks, craving temporary silence, but the notion seems unlikely with the current weather.

Kinich eases the door open quietly, exposing the disaster to his eyes.

His mother’s things are strewn about the room in various states of disarray—someone had left in a hurry. The bed frame also sits crooked, revealing a loose floorboard beneath that had been pulled aside. The perfect place to hide something, whether it had been jewelry, Mora, or something else.

A seed of panic plants itself in his stomach.

He rushes over to the front door, tripping as he goes—he slams to the floor with a cry. A hand slaps over his mouth in fear, eyes flickering over to his father. The man turns over, but doesn’t awaken, so he scrambles to his feet, finally seizing the doorknob and throwing it open.

Nothing but a starless night awaits him outside—a burst of freezing air surges into the house, but Kinich doesn’t feel it at all. Instead, he stares out into the snowy landscape, gaze following the trail his mother had left behind.

Shallow footfalls leading away from the house—leading away from him.

Kinich is not ignorant; even young as he is, he understands the situation instantly.

His mother had weighed the value of her son and the value of her freedom, and he had not been the final choice.

That night, Kinich doesn’t cry.

Instead, he creeps back into bed, deathly quiet in his footsteps and wincing when the door creaks. A shiver runs down his body; teeth chattering, he slides beneath his thin blanket. His father doesn’t stir, and for once, Kinich doesn’t care. He doesn’t feel anything at all.

For a few minutes, he tosses and turns. It doesn’t help—the dread settles in all the same. There are too many questions and not enough answers to placate him. He thinks of his mother and her smile.

Distantly, he wonders if he can blame her, or even hate her. If he weighed his options, would he have made the same choice? If he had been more useful, would she have stayed?

What more could he have done?

As he falls back to sleep, Kinich wonders how long it will be until spring comes again.

#genshin impact x reader #kinich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #kinich #genshin impact #kinich x you #adeptus ink

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minamorris1857 · 1 year ago

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Random friend: Helen Pevensie, your children are just so well behaved and mature. I can’t imagine having children who act as nicely as yours do.

“Pile on Pete!” Lucy yells and they all jump onto Peter who grunts and grumbles but doesn’t push them off.

Peter and Edmund hitting each other with sticks in the back garden

Susan and Peter telling Edmund to eat his vegetables and him telling them that he’s an adult and he will eat his vegetables when he wants to. And to back off.

Lucy climbing a tree in her nice clothes because “I’m really good mum don’t worry it’s like the trees taught me”

Susan sneaking back inside at midnight with an empty quiver and bow. “I can explain”

Peter and Edmund routinely leaving school grounds on weekends to see Lucy and Susan at their own school.

Lucy spending more time with girls twice her age than other 10 year olds.

Edmund always sneaking away from the children’s section in the library and getting books on gory battles and great military failures.

Peter getting in fights over stepped on toes.

Lucy fighting bedtime every chance she gets.

All of them accidentally drinking wine on more than one occasion because they saw the glass and didn’t think about where they were.

Lucy somehow knowing how to punch.

Edmund ‘borrowing’ a horse from the school coach house to go riding over the weekend while he was bored.

Susan always spilling flour over the kitchen when she’s tasked with dinner and Peter can’t do dishes without soaking everyone in the kitchen.

All of them being terrible about cleaning up after themselves because they got so used to having staff to do those sorts of things.

Lucy forgetting electricity is a thing and taking candles to read in the dark, which half terrifies her parents. She gets lots of playing with fire lectures.

Edmund and Lucy releasing all of their cousin’s science project subjects.

All four of them routinely covered in mud and brambles from the woods.

“Yes, I’m not sure how they all got to be like this,” Mrs. Pevensie laughs awkwardly. “It certainly wasn’t me.”

#narnia headcanons #chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #narnia #the pevensies #pevensie siblings #susan pevensie

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bunnibaby-love · 7 months ago

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🌶️ Sylus x F!Reader 🌶️

♡ nsfw + degradation + hard fucking + brat reader + dom sylus + slapping + breeding + oral mreceiving + choking + mean sylus

You always act like a brat to Sylus but he never lose his composure and will even play with you from time to time. He's used bartering with your childish antics but maybe he spoiled you a little too much

Sylus left you only for half a minute to wait on his motorcycle while he got something inside the headquarters but you think it would be funny to play a little hide in seek at the n109 zone

Of course it's dangerous but you wanna act tough so Sylus won't spot you so easily. You hide a bit far away on top of a little tree and cover yourself with the leaves and barks

It didn't take Sylus 3 minutes and you already meet his piercing red eyes under the tree. You bite your lower lip knowing you're definitely fucked! Sylus hates it when you wander around at n109 zone because of how dangerous it is.

You pout and climb down, lowering your gaze at the grass and playing with your fingers as Sylus come closer and glare at you "You really never listen to what i say don't you? You're just a silly little girl....wanderers will eat you for snack bunny"

Sylus gripped your waist and dragged you back to the headquarters. Luke and Kieran had the audacity to snicker at you so you stick out your tongue at them before Sylus push you to his bedroom and lock the door

"How many more times do i have to repeat myself on that dumb little head of yours that you should only stick beside me especially when were outside hmm?" He sat beside you to rubbed your thighs "Do you still not get it or do i have to drill it to your brain?"

"Sorry Sy....i just thought it will be fun! you always so busy can't even spend time with me!hmph" Sylus chuckled. You're such an attention seeker for him and it never fail to amuse him

"I have a night for you now sweetie..." He burries his face on your neck and attacked your neck with his sloppy kisses

You eagerly sat on his lap, your favorite place to sit "Sy---eakk!!" you yelp as Sylus rough palm slap your ass and gripped your jaw

"Think you'll go unpunished after that little trick you pulled earlier sweetie?" he laughed and pushed you on your back at his bed

Calloused hands wrapped around your neck tightly as Sylus is unbottoning your blouse and throws it at floor "All this damn time and you're not wearing a bra? Are you that much of a slut?"

"Um..it"s thick top..i..it's okay...eak!" another whimper from your after Sylus slapped your boob and pinch your perks "Kieran and Luke was there, you wanted them? was my dick not enough?" he choked you harder that makes you throw your head back and suddenly met with Sylus long cock

You still have your mouth open catching your breath while Sylus is chocking you when he slides it deep down your throat. "Fuck baby....i know you can take it...you're a good girl right?" You gagged and gripped Sylus thighs but know better than you can't even move by your position with Sylus on top of your face and his other hand gripping your hair then you just have to take him

Sylus pumped on your face and occasionally pulling out to slap his cock at your face "You look like a whore....fit for stupid girl that don't know how to behave"

He slapped your face two times to and get off of your face. You cough and catched your breath but Sylus didn't give you enough time by turning you on your stomach "Ass up"

You quickly push your knees to bed and Sylus ripped your skirt, leaving you on your panties. "So wet? you're turned on by me hitting huh?" he slapped your cunt hard you almost lost balance but he gripped your hips hardly "Don't move too much or i'll bind all your limbs got it? be a good girl f'me"

"Always smell so sweet" you whimper when he moved your undies to side and felt his tall nose met your wet cunt. As always, Sylus eats you sloppily, playing his tongue inside you and holding on your cute butt you're sure will leave bruises

"Fuck....ngh....my clit...Sy please play with it...." The tiny bud you just love whenever he plays with it with the tip of his tongue or when his finger circled it, even it's the head of his cock kissing it and making a pool out of his cum

But instead of mountain of pleasure, he pinch your bud "Aww..." you're so sensitive yet it still hurts! Sylus must be really mad now, afterall it's his safety protocol you break

You gripped the fairymane plushie he got you from the claw machine as you're about to reach ecstacy. 'Sy....im...cu--" you explode all over his face bedsheet. You expect him to be annoyed with you releasing without his permission yet, he kept his relentless attacked on your cunt

"Waaaaa...s..stop..." It took Sylus an hour before he decided it's over. You lost track of how many times he made you finish until your lay limp on your stomach

Ready to closed your eyes for the tiring night, you felt Sylus lay on your back and pulls out your hair "No no baby...you're not sleeping...you want me right? you wanna play? then i'll give you what you been begging"

You let out a loud moan as the sweet pain of his cock entered your inside. The familiar pain of your inside adjusting inside you feels painful but full of pleasure

He didn't gave you an enough time to adjust as he pistol his dick inside you and putting all his weight down on your back "Oh...oh god! S--Sylus yo...you're gonna b-break me!"

"That's what im intend to do sweetie" Sylus circle his left hand to chocked you and put his right hand fingers inside your mouth, taking it off to slapper your cheeks and tits before messing with your face again

You're full on sobbing with overwhelming pleassure and screaming way too loud "Tsk.." Sylus grab both of your shoulder blades and push your whole upper body on the bed, still hammering on your body

"Fuck....i'm cumming..." he grab your cheek again and move a bit so you could rest your cheeks on the soft headboard "I'm gonna cum inside....gonna give you a damn baby so you...will just stay inside and play with my baby mhm"

A wet sloppy kiss on your tear stained cheek and you cum together with Sylus. Your whole body feels like a jelly after Sylus mandhandles you

He turns you over and kissed your lips "See...you look so much better when you're just here in my bed...instead of playing outside at that dangerous zone with your dumb head....you're even prettier just dumb on my bed"

He gently gives your bud a light pinch that you can barely whimper with your hoarse voice and he just laughs "You look so docile right now....good....i'll just have to teach you over and over again how harsh i can be whenever you wanna be bratty again baby"

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x reader smut #sylus smut #l&ds #l&ds smut

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jin0 · 8 months ago

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TENNIS SUCKS AND SO DO YOU [Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig, Art Donaldson]

Summary : You were better off without them, you said for a decade despite seeing them every fucking where, all the fucking time. You were better than them, you said as you did the same shit they did and enjoyed it all the same.

Pairing : Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig x Tashi Duncan x Reader, Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig x Art Donaldson

Warning : +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !, angst, canon injury, canon conniving, cheating, manipulation, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, tennis mentioned, rude language, cussing, foursome kinda, slight ball worship, pussy worship, vaginal sex (p in v), sadness, rehab mentioned, homelessness, gaslighting, genuinely everyone sucks here, no one is mentally stable and should be trusted.

A/N : enjoy

_________________________________________

As it had turned out, it had been way easier for you to admit the sick pleasure you got out of witnessing the downfall of the people you had loved for so long. Being easy to admit did not make it any less painful if you were being honest. Loving them the way you did, the way only you could since your college days made the situation just as sad as it had been cathartic.

You witnessed from the sidelines how Patrick, Tashi and Art’s old ways returned even after eleven years to tear them apart the way it had initially years prior. You still remembered how you used to be, it wasn’t hard they hadn’t changed a bit. Not even the way they looked at each other.

Outsiders would speculate on the nature of the relationship which had sparked fire in the media, two old best friends meeting again at a random challenger while one’s ‘wife’ cheered louder than she had ever been seen cheering. Some would assume the worst out of Tashi while some would pity her for being the stand in to Art’s internalized homophobia. Maybe other’s would hit the nail right on the head and guess that the three might share deep feelings for each other but the would never go further in the guesses, ironically respectful of the privacy of the three people the would spend weeks speculating on, expecting some form of answer at some point.

In the midst if all of this, you would remain. Alone but never lonely, alone and changed for the better while they simmered in their own toxicity, pulling at each other’s strings to bring the worst out of each other in hopes to come out on top, come out the best at the game of honesty they played in a pathetic attempt at convincing the others that they were the ones to say the truth the two others refused to admit to, while simultaneously keeping a lifetime’s worth of secrets.

You would remain, forever in love with them, enough to leave without a goodbye or a look back while they grew like trees in soiled dirt, intertwined but resentful of one another.

You hadn’t been able to watch the end of the match, content with watching Patrick and Art hug for the first time in about a decade. It was funny to you, really. How they had managed to part for so long when Patrick had loved Art first, loved him the way you had loved Tashi first. You all ended up falling in love, you with Art next. Patrick was a little more difficult to like. He was a cunt. And truth be told, so were you. But in their psyche, you lived as kindness personified, because at the root, you were what they aspired to reach when claiming a false sense of honesty.

You were the good ripped out of them by a forceful departure they could not have done a thing about.

You were kind and overly intelligent, academically and emotionally, doubled with a talent that made you all the more terrifying. To understand you was a struggle because all you said could be taken as exactly what it was. In the world of pompous etiquette and manners, you lived above and below it all. Born in a lower class family, you never feared to admit that your goal had always been to climb you way up until you reached what you wanted to reach. It was unclear to you and to them for a while so coaxing it out of you was useless, you didn’t know much about what you wanted, or at least, verbalizing it would be difficult. You aimed to climb, all on your own, through your own power and possibilities. Fucking Tashi Duncan was just for fun.

She wasn’t meant to be a tool in your machine, and frankly, she would’ve been a useless one too, you weren’t a tennis player. Maybe that was what had made your deep friendship so difficult to understand. People speculated that you used her for her money and status, which would make sense if your natural predator wasn’t a tennis racket and a ball. You just couldn’t play tennis for shit. And at first she would call you an idiot for trying when you clearly sucked. A friendship had blossomed when you had responded by successfully hitting a ball right past her head. You sucked at tennis but you had great aim it seemed.

You had reached Stanford on a scholarship, and artistic scholarship funded by a bunch of wealthy families, counting the Zweig and Donaldson families. You danced ballet initially but the possibilities had evolved so you did more than ballet or than dancing. It didn’t really matter honestly why you were at Stanford, the point is that you were there with them and sometimes only for them.

Again, it had started with Tashi, simple stuff really, hugs here and there turning into hugs everywhere. And hand holding which had also turned into waist holding. And the sleepovers were you started from standing at opposite sides of the room to sitting on each other and sleeping with each other in the same bed. Everything just kept escalating. Came a time were it was normal for you both to be showering together or to kiss each other’s cheeks in public. You were best friends with a little bit more on the side.

The speculation were inevitable really, but then came Patrick and Art. Things had been complicated to explain or understand but it did make sense to you four at least.

The night she had been invited to their hotel room, they hadn’t expected her to bring a friend. You didn’t really understand what she had wanted to prove, if she had wanted to prove anything at all but you knew that you didn’t really mind. A public would never bother you.

You had always been pretty obedient to her words, even more when she had her fingers inside you. When she had called you to sit on her lap while they sat on the floor, you had obeyed, climbing on top of her and zipping down your compressor shirt. You could feel their eyes on you, burning through your skin in hopes to see your breast the way Tashi could. When you two had started to make out, you wanted to laugh, hearing Art’s little gasp loud and clear. He was way easier to get worked up than Patrick. But Patrick was a slut so it made sense.

You had stopped her, pulling away with your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you attempted to regain your composure before pointing at them.

“Shouldn’t they be participating ?” You had said, amusing Tashi who patted the space next to her for you to sit. Again, you obeyed but kept a hand between her thighs while she kissed your forehead. Art and Patrick had stared at each other before Patrick rushed to sit next to you and Art next to her.

The rest was history. A long, tedious and sometimes painful history which at started really, the moment Art asked you out. You expected him to go to Tashi, and he had before asking the two of you. It was easy to love Art, the same as you loved your girl. Patrick though, it had been lust for a long time, a very long time before you accepted that he loved you and that you loved him too. You two couldn’t stop taking shots at one another you at his pathetic love for Art and him at you for being poor. Those were easy and no amount of venom in your voices could ever male you say words you didn’t mean. He was bitter at you for having Art and you at him for having Tashi, you were the same really but you would always say you had bigger balls that him because at least you unequivocally had both in all senses while he struggled to even have one.

You remembered how in a drunken admission he confessed hating you for being the romantic failure to his success, something he couldn’t bear knowing that he wanted to fuck you with all the love and adoration you ignited in his soul. He was glad to have his wish granted, waking up the next morning with you on top of him, sleeping soundly, more silent than you had ever been in your life with him around.

Then began the greatest love story never told, fueled by unyielding passion and love that transcended. Maybe the end could’ve been predicted. You loved too much with too much honesty for three people who convinced themselves that tennis was their only true love. You were okay with that, you knew it was a cover-up, a protection from the unpredictability of human feelings and relationships. You didn’t feel like covering up anything, not when you simply loved.

To you it made sense, to them it was a little more difficult, and the difficulty kept increasing slowly as everything rapidly turned to shit. One day it was all four of you, the next, Art didn’t love you anymore, not enough to share Tashi but enough to still crave your very existence like air. He was done sharing with Patrick too, something about having to admit to himself that he did love the man more than a best friend didn’t work in his mind.

They had all began getting into each other’s minds planting seeds of jealousy and doubt in a vicious cycle where they all made each other worst than worst itself. Then Tashi got hurt, and Patrick wasn’t there but Art was so she blamed the brunette while the blond rejoiced as he finally reached the sense of normalcy he had craved through monogamy. And where were you in all of this ? Left behind. You didn’t play tennis but you loved them so you thought it would be enough, it wasn’t. You couldn’t understand, they said. Tashi would never play like she used to or as she was destined to ever. And since Art was there, he would be the talent that prevailed and lived. Patrick, he couldn’t care less about you when he was loosing the two people who really mattered to him.

You had been disposed of in a matter of weeks, a useless, bothersome artefact found in the dirt and throw back in the dirt when you had stopped being fun. You would’ve never understood what it felt like to lose the very thing that one thought of when thinking of Love, yet you could’ve tried, you would’ve tried for them, for her.

Patrick was the first who should’ve gone, almost forcefully thrown out of the apartment you had all started sharing, ironically owned by his family. He lost the home of his heart and chose to give away his house too. But Patrick being Patrick, he refused to leave, stubborn and smug, he opted to stay and keep trying. He knew tennis and Tashi’s love for tennis. He had felt that love for a certain blond boy he had lost too.

With his stay, he formed a side, his own, while Tashi and Art formed another. They fought, regularly, everyday almost, about the same things and a multitude of little other things that they had never voiced prior to the incident. Because they were too ‘kind’ to speak up, but mean enough to use it as ammunition in petty arguments.

They fought about almost anything frankly and you, you disappeared, left off in the background, dissipating like sand, washed away by the sea and forgotten. You didn’t need to get involved they said. Yet you did, because you loved all three and maybe it was selfish but you still held onto the hope that they loved you too, enough to support you in your own moments.

But that was before the Patrick you had learned to love forced you with the brutal reality of things.

You fell. During a rehearsal, you fell, badly enough to hurt you foot and possibly for a little while. It wasn’t broken nor was it permanently damaged, you would heal quickly, you just had to be taken to the hospital to be given the necessary information on how to recover. You would also need to be taken home, you physically couldn’t walk. You called and called and called, calling about a hundred times with no answer from any of them. You ended up staying at the hospital for two days before deciding that you didn’t want to stay more so you left, on foot, which you shouldn’t have done. You had crutches, you thought, so this would be fine. It was at the end, your foot was fine, your soul though, not so much.

After two days in the hospital, you had returned home to another fight between the three. You were tired so you stayed silent until they took notice of you, standing there in silence. Weirdly enough, that seemed to aggravate them further, leading to sighs of anger and looks of disgust, as if you were the cause of all of this, all their issues and frankly all the issues in the world. Unused the first and last fight you were apart of.

It was about you not being there, you always running when things got hard for Tashi, running away because you couldn’t be the center of attention anymore when Tashi would be the priority. You didn’t really process much if what was thrown your way, too busy trying to defend yourself in vain. It didn’t matter really, whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter not when for the first time in weeks both Fire and Ice agreed on something while Tashi looked at you with the kind of hatred you’d never seen in her eyes before. All three finally agreed on something and it seemed it was on how much they couldn’t stand you.

“It’s fucking pathetic how low you’d go to feel like you matter to us. Let me make this abundantly clear, your presence here is only because of Tashi. The interest we have in you is only because of Tashi. Any amount of interest we have in you is because of Tashi. You don’t even matter to yourself outside of her.” How said Patrick bitterly. He looked disgusted by the very sight of you and his words translated about just as much venom as his gaze.

He walked up to you, still standing at the same spot you had been in since you had entered the room to walk in on them fighting once again. You hadn’t moved and now you were paralyzed by humiliation, as if even breathing would be a stain on their glory. You were going through it again in a matter of seconds. Years of improvement on your self worth all going down the drain because of three people.

You watched him with teary eyes as he stepped up to you, entering your personal space so that you could see properly how much he meant his next words.

“We barely tolerate you without tennis, but how much do you think we’d like you if Tashi hadn’t pulled you in like a necessary condition for her presence around ?”

You said still, to ashamed to cry or to breath, almost heaving from the ball of air stuck in your throat. You said as stoic as you could all while keeping your tears at bay. He chuckled while staring at you, false amusement to hide how annoyed he was with your presence here. You tried to look towards Art, who looked away, face indifferent as he silently agreed to his ex best friend’s words while your own best friend stared blankly at you then at your foot before getting up and leaving.

You weren’t one to stay where you weren’t wanted, so when they left to chase after Tashi, you took that as an opportunity to pack your stuff and leave. All that was left behind were the stuff you wouldn’t outwardly need or could ask a friend, if you had any left, to help you get.

In that moment you felt your luckiest despite the circumstances, your lack of relationship to tennis making it easy to rely on someone who wouldn’t be asking thousands of questions on why you were now excluded from the little group who’d been ruling the minds and hearts of about every student on campus. For the rest of the semester, you moved in with a friend from your dance studio, friend who quickly became your greatest form of support, pushing you to get back up and become the best dancer you’d ever been.

For the first time, you felt what Tashi meant when she said tennis would be her greatest love, you understood her drive to not just be a player among the lot but the player who stood above the masses effortlessly yet with lots of efforts. The rumors quickly spread, your separation from the group raising questions that you were too busy to answer, spending about every second of every hour dancing and improving your artistic skill while slowly letting the three people you had loved turn into distant figures in your rearview mirror.

The longing glances in the lecture halls and silent please turned into quick looks in their direction, acknowledging their presences before going back to what you were doing, before soon, watching it turn into nothing. You stopped looking, feeling their eyes on your before shutting down the instinct which you had lead to you them in crowds of thousands so many times before. Before you knew it, you brushed passed them, your scent burning through their being like the softest of caress and the sharpest of slaps while you simply didn’t notice them. You had stopped trying to ignore them and made them presence part lf everyone, barely noticeable.

Your dancing got better, just like your heart and your other talent. You divested into other areas of artistic expression, soon stepping out of Stanford to be known all over the world for your incredible voice and the amazing performances that went with it. You filled concert halls like one would fill their lungs with air and sold albums like no other. Your passion and devotion for your craft quickly became known all over the world, impossible to miss as your face appeared on Billboards and your voice resonated through radios. You got busy with like and you weren’t the only one.

You knew about Tashi and Art’s wedding, catching wind of it from friends you had made in college. It didn’t surprise you much, she could handle Art better. What had surprised you was for Fire to Part from Ice and vice versa, both disappearing from each other’s life. It wasn’t news that neither really deeply like to share, ironic considering the circumstances. You had found out about their daughter too, Lily, cute name. Art had probably picked it. Tashi would’ve named her ‘Tennis Donaldson’ if she could. Tennis Duncan even. She loved tennis too much, it had started to exasperate you, but inly slightly. You understood. You lived dancing just the same. Just healthily. You could see through the mist, watching her live vicariously through her darling husband he played for her. He lost the passion he had for the sport, but he had lost more.

You didn’t know what had happened to Patrick, or at least you feigned ignorance. You didn’t give a fuck about that little bitch. But watching him die wouldn’t be fun. You knew about the heroin addiction and about the alcoholism. It was known before during college and it had stopped briefly while you dated, keeping only the smoking. He had drifted from them, too busy getting fucked up on whatever he could get his sticky fingers on while fucking whoever he could get to give him shelter for the night. Being a crackhead was expensive and even Patrick Zweig couldn’t afford it, it seemed. You knew he lived in his car and tried to revive his dead tennis career every chance he got. He was embarrassing to be frank, but you couldn’t turn your back on him when you knew he could pick up a handgun any day and write your name in big bold letters out of spite for the amount of time he called and you refused to answer before choosing to block his number. The junky ex boyfriend trope was getting tired and the sex was good back in the days but never enough to entertain his mess of a life. And to be frank, you had grown to be just as spiteful and petty as they were, the wound of the past still fresh in your heart despite the decade of separation.

Over the last years, you had crossed his path about five times and each time you found him in a outer body state, off on whatever he had gotten his hands on but definitely not water. Each time you crossed him, you remembered the words he had said to you, ears prior, noting the irony of how he had turned out now that he was alone. It was sad, honestly, Art had been a beacon to him, Tashi too. But both found mutual benefits in each other, Tashi getting to live through her husband while Art got to live through the fantasy that he didn’t regularly got of on his best friends cock rubbing against his.

You, you were just collateral, too easy to love yet too mysterious to understand. You were like the easiest puzzle never solved to them, an equation on love and lust all packed in one basic formula that was so easy that it felt like a trap. People relying on toxicity to feel alive sabotaged shit like that, the easy shit that wasn’t meant to be overly painful. You’d been too easy, so you could be disposed of ln on the basis of an argument where you just didn’t fit anymore when the truth is that you fit in way to easily with each without having to give anything tangible. You weren’t bringing shit to their worlds but yourself yet you were indispensable.

And being indispensable, surprisingly, wasn’t sufficient to them.

The first time Patrick saw you again after the separation was in the street. Which street he can’t say, he’s not even certain he saw you for real seeing as that night he was high on whatever had been sitting in his car and a 4 dollar bottle of vodka from the corner store. His car slash home wasn’t too far, less than ten steps away, yet he couldn’t reach it. First he couldn’t fucking find his keys and on top of that, he had felt in a cheery mood, deciding to down half the bottle right outside the store. He was in a mood to celebrate, the news of Tashi and Art’s divorce plaguing his mind like the sweetest of highs.

In his sick mind, the man still lived the fantasy that he and Art were the same or that they could be, true rivals from the same place, both drastically changed by their circumstances but still and forever Fire and Ice. He wanted to believe that well in his thirties he still had a shot. He could still do this, get to reach the same level of stardom and face off his best friend and lover once again. He was insane, and slightly pathetic like that but the news made the possibility even greater in his mind.

Tashi and Art had been a unit of destruction he could’ve never truly beat, not on his own, yet he still dreamt and rightfully so. Because now, both members of the unit were parting ways and what better way to conquer than to divide ? She had done it, years prior, Art fully participating despite his seemingly innocent demeanor.

In the midst of his celebration, he had, once again, forgotten to exercise restraint and had drunken enough to stumble into an alley all alone, falling face first in a puddle of water. In his inebriated state, even felt the weight of his exhaustion, weirdly falling down all at once on his shoulders.

He was so out of it, he hadn’t noticed your figure almost floating towards his body before seeing you crouched down next to him. You started at him just like he did you, both quiet for a second before he cut the silence with a chuckle, you, on the other hand were less than amused, stoic and silent face dark as you watched him, probably gloating to see him in such a state.

“Are you real ?” Was all he had said, waiting for a response which had never came.

It was almost vicious how he could barely make out the walls around him yet could perfectly distinguish the features of your face. It hadn’t changed, fuck you were so pretty.

The rest was a blur of soft touches and movements he could understand. All he knew was that you had spoken to him, telling him to not drink and to cut the heroin. He had nodded, obedient and shameful as a result of his words from the past.

When he had woken up the next day, he was surprised to be in a bed, comfy and warm covers. Parts of him dreamt it was her house. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t never be, not if she had a say on it at least.

You had driven him to rehab, leaving without a word or a note for him to understand. He didn’t know much other than the fact that you had paid for him to stay there for six months and then maybe he could leave. You had even paid more to make sure that the establishment accepted him despite her not being a relative or anything like that. Top quality facility that would have him bust his ass off trying to get clean, and not just off the drugs but also the alcohol.

He didn’t know anything, he just felt like it was you who had been the generous donator to pay for him to get clean. The lady at the front desks and the doctor in charge of him were only told one thing that had a seemingly smug but actually hopeful grin stretching his lips.

“I don’t want anything really, it’s more for him. Maybe, if he gets better in his head, he’ll actually get to be good at tennis again.”

It was mean, you were mean, mostly to him. But he knew better. You both had a habit of disagreeing so whenever he’d shit on himself, you’d join him and suddenly he was bathed in the confidence of the universe. Ironically, it never worked the other way around.

He stayed, all six months though, per the doctors and therapist, he wouldn’t need to. He could’ve left after the forth month. They had a tennis court to help him work a bit so he chose to stay. Even made friends. But he stayed, the whole time. Out of respect for you in some ways but also because he wanted to see how well he’d do. If he could really stick it out for the whole six months and then more. He did, and he would’ve loved to tell you, but that didn’t happen.

The next you saw was Art. If “seeing” was an appropriate term to use in this situation. After retiring, the man couldn’t find it in himself to ever really leave the tennis world, even after he and Tashi had divorced. He was still fully ingrained in the tennis world like the champion who would’ve lost it all, should’ve lost it all. His career been over if he had lost to Patrick that day. It would’ve destroyed him, you knew that. You didn’t need to be there to know, you always could read him. You could read all three down to the nastiest of details they were dirty rotten books passing fungus and parasites to everything they touched.

Art was the prettiest of parasites, seemingly clean and well behaved, but he fucked like a man starved for pussy, real pussy, raw and without conditions or expectations. You knew he hadn’t changed a bit when you saw him at an even for Uniqlo. Your career also had you around these circles and you like these events the best, with big brands but really niche, making it easy to not be overwhelmed as soon as you stepped in the room.

You’d been the center of attention the moment you entered and he was quick to catch you, you both engaging in a stare off that had lasted for about three seconds to you maybe, a lifetime to him. You couldn’t be here, not really, how could you ? He had dreamt of you, screamed your name and moaned it while balls deep in his wife. Ex wife. She’d moan your name too, it was pathetic, both were. He had pleaded the universe for you and yet nothing, but here you were, the one night he wasn’t thinking of you somehow. There you were, ever so beautiful and breathtaking. Like a ghost grappling at his brain.

It was pathetic, to not see you for a decade and yet to have his heart beat out of his chest as soon as he saw you and his cock springing to life like never before when you turned around, allowing him to gawk at the curve of your spine, from your nape to your ass. He was screwed.

For the rest of the night you both engaged in a cat and mouse game, him the cat and you the mouse, but here, you weren’t running from him. You were disappearing into the crowd as soon as he was freed from whatever pointless discussion was taking his time from you.

Then came the end of the night and Art was frantic, aimlessly searching for you, terrified like never before to miss you and this time lose you forever. He could reach you, he could go to one of your concerts and press tour for one of your movies. He could do that, but Art had always been somewhat of a pussy. Enjoying his position off in the shadow while the rest of the world took actions and spoke on their feelings.

That day, he took action, forgetting any sense of pride and decorum when he grabbed you by the jaw and pushed you into the elevator, hands reaching under your dress to hike your legs up around his waist. The elevator had barely opened, luckily leading directly into the suite he had been offered that he and his eager hands dragged your docile body to the nearest flat surface. When he had reached the dinner table, he had laid you up on it, so delicately, as if you were a figment of his imagination, potentially disturbed by any rough movement.

He was almost panicking, fiddling with your dress, torn between savoring the moment and your presence or making you feel the weight of your absence. He chose the later, ripping through the fabric of the expensive dress while you whined at the loss of such a beautiful piece to add to your collection.

You liked clothes, you always did and your mewls of pleasure mixed with the sound of your discontentment at the loss of your new favorite dress had him tensing in his pants, balls tight and full of love and memories from how happy and grateful you used to be when he gave you a present.

His lips dragged along the tense vein in your neck, occasionally biting down on your flesh to mark you in the most visible way possible. If you were to disappear again, you’d be marked, sworn as off limits to anyone else. You’d be his to worship.

You had matched his eagerness, sliding slander manicured fingers into his pants and boxers to stoke his cock, mouth watering at the idea lf having him in you again, girth taking up all the space in her throat and rutting into her hole desperately for even more.

You did, have him fuck your throat. Your saliva coating his balls shamelessly while you choked, almost suffocating on him but whining like the desperate girl you were whenever he even thought of pulling out. He had let you have your fun on him, nasty words to match the nasty rhythm of his hips slamming into your mouth. Plop. Plop. Plop, resonating into the room while he drilled his long cock into you with vigor. He had cum once, in your throat, only one, holding your face still as he pushed the tip of your nose into his nicely trimmed pubic hair. You inhaled his scent, eyes crossing in pleasure while you came untouched. What a good girl you’d always been, cumming at the idea of having him lay his semen in your throat.

He pulled out, holding your jaw still while admiring your fucked out face before kissing your cheeks tenderly like he always did to bring you back. You were easy to overwhelm so making you dumb on pleasure came easy too. But Art was a hard working man and he would never stop at that.

“Already so dumb for me…” He had muttered into your skin, lips dragging across your cheeks, jaw and chest, to finally reach your leaking mound. It was his turn to inhale your scent, mind hazy with pleasure and completely taken by you. No amount of thinking ever mattered, you mattered, all of you. Art had found an altar within the confine of your folds, ready to worship it like he had been deprived off for years.

His tongue had lapped at your juices for hours, pussy drunk after the first orgasm he had pulled out of you and ready to sink into his addiction. His messy tongue hadn’t left you since he had started, essentially hours ago, swallowing your taste, drinking in your pleasure and praying for more. He sucked on your clit messily, movements becoming just as erratic as he was. He wanted more of you, more of this, he needed to live in your skin forever. You were so warm and felt so good and he loved you and he had missed you so fucking much and this was too much, ruining him from the inside and melting him into a puddle of arousal and unexpressed love. He was made to love you and you weren’t there, you had left and he needed to love you now and forever.

“P-Please… Baby please…” He kept starting, to dumb on your pussy to be able to finish his sentence. But finish, that he did. Cumming untouched himself, cock rubbed raw against the fabric of the covers, a wet patch under him, marking the spot he’d been soaking with his pour sensitive cock for hours. He was twitching like never before, moans exiting his mouth because of the air touching his sensitive tip, so red it looked like a popsicle. Lucky him you couldn’t see, or you’d swallow him whole until he was to cum without anything coming out.

For now he rejoiced in the pleasure of having you in this bed, shaking nonstop and coherent words and phrases erases from your vocabulary by his desperate acts on your now swollen cunt. His hands had been gripping on your hips, holding you firmly and relying on your ass cheeks for more grip when his attacks on you became too much and you would attempt to squirm away. You were now but a body, a doll, aimlessly moved by him will. His tongue went deep inside you, so, so deep, almost grazing your most sensitive point but still preparing your walls for his raw dick and the abuse it would lay on your eager pussy. He moved your body back and forth, having you rut your hips into his face. His blue eyes, clouded by pleasure and insanity looked up, faced by your breasts bouncing while you cried and cried, the pleasure too much. He freed one of your ass cheeks to reach a large hand over your tits, grabbing it roughly and toying with your nipple while he sucked on your clit. He had heard the sound of the sheets ripping and wanted to be the next one to be torn into.

He was too much, to passionate on you, slurping and slobbering on your weeping cunt as if it was his last meal. He was entranced by you, feasting on you with all the fervor he had missed out on showing you. As he lapped away, you jerked particularly harshly, too sensitive to handle much more. Your fingers tried to pull him away from you, hair tightly gripped in your hands but he was quick to fight back, sending you a glare before going back to you.

In one desperate motion, strength fueled by your impending orgasm and his own, hip humping the air as his large cock stood tall beads of cum leaking in large drops out of his tip, he flipped you over, you on top of him, seating on his face while he laid under you. The weight of your ass on his chin and your cunt smashed against his face, he could die happy again. His hands found your ass again while yours grabbed onto his growing blond locks and the other holding onto the headboard. You road his tongue like never before, smearing your cum on his face while you cried for your release.

“A-Art ! Fuck, Art, baby ! S-So good !” was all you could say at the moment, the rest, incomprehensible cries of pleasure and babbling that signified how far gone you were.

Art watched your tits bounce again, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and all over your center as he dreamt of sucking your nipples until the were swollen and sensitive. He made love to your cunt, moaning inside you like he could do so well, grunts and whines of pleasure going heard by the entire floor if his suit wasn’t the only one here. His own eyes filled with tears, balls releasing cum all over his stomach and your back.

You gripped his hair like a rope you held onto at the risk of falling. He admired with desperation and passion, your head thrown back in pleasure as you finally came, crying out his name while drenching his face in your cream. You could barely catch your breath that he had thrown you off of him and onto the mattress. He stood between your legs for a minute, staring.

That was the clearest memory you had of that night, other than the week long ache between your legs and the pulsating of your clit at the sound of his name. You, on the other hand, were etched into his mind like a picture carved in stone to be remembered forever. Everything he looked was a reminder of you, even his daughter, Lily, a great enjoyer of your movies, one where you had played a princess destined to save her kingdom. Ironic how both he and his daughter saw you the same, the princess and the savior.

He marked you into his mind, your hair splayed onto the bed, eyes lidded with pleasure, mouth parted as you stared at his cock. Every piece of you he memorized. In every position too. And, intertwined amongst the sounds of pleasure exiting his throat, muffled by his mouth almost fused to a piece of your skin, pressed to your cheek or to your forehead in one of the most intimate acts he had performed in the last five years, he cried out for you. Desperately crying out your and the anger he had suppressed towards you. Anger or sadness, sorrow so deep it almost felt like grief. His movement became harsher, almost mean but so full of love too. He loved you so much, present tense, he hadn’t stopped ever. He was still angry at you for leaving though, so he told you in a mix of incoherent and inaudible words all mushed together, he voiced his feelings for how you had abandoned him, left him heartbroken, grieving in silence.

“H-How…How could you d-do this to me, huh ?” He’d say angrily, before pleading. “I love you… F-Fuck… I l-love you… Please… I love you…”

Drilling his raw dick inside you felt like life itself, your walls tightly holding him in while he kissed your thoughts away. Open mouth kisses, all tongue and teeth, this was life, made and in the making. He was making life with you that night, creating like he had never before. When you rode his cock, balls slapping against your ass while his lips latched onto your breasts to suck on them, that was life. When you’d been thrown on all fours, taking the nastiest backshots known to man, pussy molded to take him and only him in, that was life. When he laid you on your side, one leg raised up by his muscly arm as you took another load of his cum from the back, that was life. When he fucked you with your thighs pressed to your chest and ankles around his head, his swollen lips kissing you tenderly in contrast with the force of his hips slamming into you, that was life.

Life hadn’t stopped until sunrise, where you had both fallen asleep, you taking in his ‘I love yous’ and your tongue tied with pleasure, the kind you hadn’t felt in decades, to speak up. With each new position came more cum and more words from him, poor Art, fucked dumb by his sweet girl that had finally returned. Years of guilt and love unexpressed had finally been told in loud moans and babbling about how much he loved you and was sorry.

It didn’t matter.

You had both fallen asleep with his cock nestled inside you, sheets tossed to the floor and arms holding your body close. He slept with his face nuzzling into your hair, a scent of vanilla and citrus he had missed like a man lost in the desert missed water. Your fingers held onto his forearm with your back pressed to his chest. You were both molded against one another, peaceful and quiet.

Reality hit the next morning, when he woke up to you getting dressed. You weren’t in a hurry but you weren’t staying, he couldn’t let you leave though.

He was quick to leap out of bed and in front of you, hands holding your cheeks to force you to look into his eyes.

“Please… Look at me, please baby…” He had begged, your empty eyes finding him. “Stay. Stay and let me apologize, make up for what I did-“

“You didn’t do anything Art.” You cut him off, swatting his hands away and going back to the pieces of your dress. “And there is nothing to make up for. You wanted Tashi, I can’t fault you. The sex was good, let’s stop there.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, desperation evident as he tried to hold you in his shaky hands.

He followed you around the bedroom and out of it when you were done, running after you while almost sobbing before dropping to his knees in front of you. You sighed, exhausted by the exchange while he sacrificed his dignity once again, for someone but never himself.

“Please baby, stay with me. Please, I love you.” He was erratic, breathing quickening while you looked around.

“Art…” Your eyes dropped to him, staring into his beautiful blue eyes and holding his face tenderly. “You don’t love me. You’re bored and you love having me in bed, that’s it.” You tried to walk away but he crawled after you, holding onto your leg desperately.

“No !” he exclaimed. “Don’t dismiss me or my feelings, please. I love you, with everything I have-“

“Ironically after Tashi left, thought.”

“I’m a fucking coward, fine ! But I can’t lose you again, not like this !” He was scared, that morning, truly. Even more than when Tashi announced she wanted a divorce.

“You don’t lose someone you don’t have. You can’t have someone you don’t want.”

“Fuck you ! I want you, I need you, baby, please !” He needed to know that you’d be there tomorrow and for the rest of eternity. He couldn’t lose you again, not again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t love me.”

You threw your head around, amused by his desperation and how brazen it made him sometimes. “You’re ruining this Art…”

“I can love you for the both of us if that’s the issue. I want to be yours, I want to marry you, live life with you, be everything you need from me !” He wasn’t listening, never.

Thinking back, it wouldn’t lead to anything, the pleading and all. He could see it now. Hindsight was 20/20. It would’ve been useless and even disrespectful to ask you to love him again after discarding you that way. But to get you back and lose you so quickly had killed him a little more that day. He had needed to hear it though, to understand. And understand he had.

“Art.” Your voice was firm, like a line of cement in the sand and a pause in time, freezing him and his tears in place. “I never needed you. None of you. I just wanted you, and was content with that. You were the ones who discarded me because you didn’t need me.”

He remained frozen in place, giving you the opportunity to leave, your eyes glued to his, his beautiful tearful face as he stared in silence. When the doors of the elevator closed, he collapsed, crying harder than ever before, crying like he should’ve years ago when he had found your stuff gone. He had lost you again. His pretty girl. The love of his life.

He might’ve doubted his love for Patrick or Tashi, but loving you was like breathing air. It was easy, it made sense, before and still now. And you’d been ripped out of his life forcefully. Even now, when his pride managed to supersede his love for Patrick and Tashi, nothing could come above the love he felt for you.

After that night, he had been floating aimlessly around life, drained out of life. You were somewhere, everywhere in his life, but near him and that was punishment, cruelty for choosing Tashi and ruining all four of you. He needed to see this and had refused, now he didn’t have the choice.

The next to see you was Tashi, or if you had to be precise, it was Lily, her daughter.

There was a park down your block, you often went there to write and skateboard. Tashi didn’t know that. She didn’t know anything. To know about you was to punish herself for about everything she had done in the recent years. Including getting married. She would never admit that though, to much pride would be sacrificed if after a decade she admitted that she missed you even after the way things had gone. It would also require for her to admit that maybe divorcing Art was not really a good idea. Not when a part of her still loved him, a part you had created, the part that accepted to love and be loved beyond tennis because love, as painful as it could be, was beautiful. Even in the most vile and painful moments.

You’d been sitting for about an hour, head thrown back as you let the spring breeze and the sound of birds communicating through the trees seep into your skin. Your week had been hectic and this was the first real moment of peace you could claim to benefit from, truly, a moment of peace where life let itself float around you while you took a pause.

Your pause, ended brutally, the sound of rushing footsteps and then a little yelp waking you up from your meditation. You opened one eye, looking down in the direction of the sound to find a little girl, laying on the floor with watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip.

Poor thing had probably tripped. You straightened yourself, leaping off the bench to kneel in front of the little girl. She was distraught, looking around and fiddling with her skirt.

“Don’t worry, there’s not that many people, no one saw.” You’d said to reassure her.

She looked at you timidly before nodding, accepting the assessment you’d made on the situation. You didn’t know if anyone really had seen or not, but you did know that the park was essentially empty at this hour of the day.

“Hurts…” She mumbled, still looking down shyly. You wanted to chuckle, she was adorable, but she could’ve thought that you were mocking her so you refrained.

“Do you mind ?” You asked, pointing at her knee that was visibly turning a little more red by the minute. She shook her head, holding onto your shoulders so that you could lift her up and sit her on the bench. She had grazed her knee, it was bleeding. You looked up at the little girl in silence, this would probably have her panic if you told her. She looked about seven years old max and seemed used to run around freely, she hadn’t called for a parent yet. Luckily, you had everything you needed in your bag. You’d learn to carry around a first aid kit because of how easily you got hurt and out of habit. It reassured Tashi, back in the days, to know that you were okay or at least had something to take care of yourself.

You chuckled, her memory would truly haunt you until death if it could. You’d see her face in a piece on bandaid if you let yourself.

Pulling out your essentials, you pulled out a bottle of water as well as cleaning alcohol. You saw the little girl tense but quickly regain her composure.

“You’re not scared ? That hurts sometimes you know…” That wasn’t the smartest thing to say to a kid, but you said it anyways.

“I-It’s okay… Mommy says bugs could grow in my boo-boo if not cleaned. I hate bugs.”

You grinned, amused by her rationality but also by her tight grip on your shoulders. She was scared, she just knew better.

“And what does your mommy say about you running around alone in a park ?”

She didn’t respond, too focused on your face. Like she’d seen it before, and frankly, looking at her, you felt like you had seen her before. The messy curls on top of her little head and the way her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed when you dabbed the alcohol on her knee. You wanted to pay more attention, but the memories where ghosts that had to be ignored or they would ruin your life.

“I’ve seen you before…” She said. You hummed, quietly asking for precisions. “In the TV. You were really pretty. You had a sword and all… It was cool…”

She’d seen one of your movies, for children kinda. A little bit violent in some scenes but for children technically. With a princess who wielded the sword better than any knight.

“Did you like it ? I personally did. Loved the sword fights.” You asked, softly placing the bandaid on her leg and giving her a thumbs up.

“Me too, but I have to be careful because they’re dangerou-“

“Lily ?!”

You both were interrupted by a loud voice not too far, rushing quickly towards you. The little girl hopped off the bench with a smile, running in their direction after muttering a soft “mommy”.

You would’ve loved to turn around, but presently you were too annoyed to do so, angry to not have noticed her resemblance to the man you had seen a few weeks prior and the woman you hadn’t seen in years. You exhaled, seating back on the bench and watching as the little girl chatted away, explaining how “the princess from the TV healed her knee”. You watched Tashi search around until her gaze found yours and froze.

If you’d been in her head you would’ve seen it all, the fireworks, the crashing waves of a hurricane, the tornado, the screaming lady who resembled her but simply couldn’t be, Art and her’s wedding day, the fights you found yourself at the center of and all the times she’d have sex with him thinking of you but without feeling guilty because she knew he did too. You’d see that and about a thousand other things because she was going insane at the moment while you looked almost bored to see her.

She stood up, mouth slightly parted and her eyes never really leaving yours while her hands gripped on Lily’s smaller one, like she was afraid that she would run and disappear again, like she had previously done and like you did years ago.

For someone who was paid for her advices and known in the business for how easily she could get in someone’s head through words, Tashi was struggling a great deal at words right now. She was stuck between speechless and too angry to formulate clear words.

“Mommy ?” Was what brought her back. She looked to her daughter, plastering on a fake smile to appease the worried child and caressing her hair.

“How about you go play for a little while I go say thank you to the lady, okay ?” In any other circumstances she would’ve gone home, done with the whole outdoors thing and ready to get back to work but the situation was different with you present here.

When she assessed that Lily was far enough to not hear, she stomped towards you, angry eyes burning through you. She was ready to hand you a slap worthy of movies but was stopped by your less that amused eyes matching her expression. You were politely asking her to refrain with your eyes, an expression she’d almost never been on the receiving end of.

Tashi stood there, watching you attentively, like she expected you to disappear. She took the time to observe you, take you in. Your gaze was some distant point in front of you, possibly Lily, seeing how you smiled while she laughed loudly.

You hadn’t changed much in a decade, looking as young as when you were in college. They’d all felt the mark of time as it was engraved on their features, burnt with painful precision to signify the years of conniving, lies and deceit they’d been put through by each other to maintain the illusion that they were doing better than the next. You looked fine, they didn’t.

Even she, felt like she didn’t look good, worn out by the pretense of perfection of the wife and coach who only sought to bring out the best out of her husband, make him the best. Not that he could ever really become it, not when he was so busy trying to play for two. Ironically she did find respite in her motherly duty, finding bits of herself you had taken with you in her darling little girl. Ball of oxygen like she had never experienced before, the kind of fresh air tennis could bring her.

“She’s cute, your daughter. Looks so much like you, almost feels like Art didn’t have anything to do with it.” You said nonchalantly.

She could’ve carved your eyes out for that comment, slapped you with nasty words about your life and how bitter you were that it wasn’t you. She remembered how you four had planned it. You and Art were supposed to marry because you loved each other the healthy, reciprocated, committed way. Like a couple who wanted to grow old and have plenty of kids together did. Tashi, she loved you as much as she loved tennis, but tennis came first. Patrick loved Art as much as he loved tennis, but he loved Art more. They’d find mutual benefits being together, because they worked and loved each other in a way that worked. Loved each other like two pieces of one tennis driven soul. After one very long and celebration filled night where everyone had won something, you’d made a promise that reeked of love, the kind Tashi had never allowed herself to feel for anything that wasn’t tennis. She loved Patrick really, but you first and Art too. You all made her feel alive the way tennis did. Art wanted children, with you, and you wanted kids with him too. Patrick and Tashi, it was more of an eventuality for after retirement. Adoption maybe, or you. It didn’t matter, but it all worked out for all of you. That night, she felt like she was on top pf the world. She crashed a few months later when she fought with Patrick and Art had started his divisive bullshit. The fall of Tashi Duncan, the one who could’ve but never would again.

“She’s a good kid, more like him than you think. But you wouldn’t know, you’ve been busy.” She responded after a while, both to defend herself but also to spit out her anger towards you. It had to come out.

“Don’t expect me to stick around where I’m not wanted.”

“Oh fuck off !” Your nonchalance was getting to her, anger as evident as the sorrow in her voice. “The victim bullshit about how you weren’t wanted can work for the other two but I knew you first. No one in this world wanted you more than we did.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you treated me like shit.” Your tone wasn’t changing while hers shifted from assured to shaky.

“So what, you leave ? We scream at you once and you leave ?” You turned to her, looking into her eyes as if looking through her while she stared at you, awaiting a response. It was surprising really, how easily she lost her temper and composure when it came to you. You were like gasoline to her fire. She’d never show as much passion than in the moments that had to do with you.

She hated you in that moments, because you left her alone. She lost tennis, her mind then you. She couldn’t do this without you but she didn’t have the choice, she faked it until it felt real and suddenly you appeared again. On her screens, then billboards and then ad’s and commercials. Obviously she knew you shared some brand deals with Art, she’d done it on purpose so that she could feel bits of you in him. She smelled you all over him when he had returned from that trip for a brand she had forgotten. She only remembered the look in his eyes, like Life itself had been ripped out of him. They’d shared a look that day and it was all they had needed to know. She, who had started to doubt whether divorce really was the best choice, she now knew that it was. You hadn’t just been lingering around, you were the constant. The glue.

That night, Art had slept in the guest room, crying himself to sleep for her to listen through the walls as she cried quietly. They were pathetic truly. But at least they knew that they had to separate really. No more fight on his part to keep his family, no more doubt on hers to keep tennis. Neither could stand the other any longer nor could they stand the charade.

“You treated me like shit Tashi. You’re not the only one who knows the other and unlike you and your lapdog, I actually don’t mind the truth, even when it makes me look like shit. You treated me like shit, so I left. Or would you have preferred for me to be like your little white boy and stick around to get a taste of what the Tashi Duncan, never really Donaldson, bullshit, conditional love is ?”

You sounded more animated, brought alive by the commentary on a life you would never regret because you knew it brought you the peace they never could enjoy. She usually enjoyed getting a rise out of the other two, feeling like she was better for remaining collected when they didn’t.

Now, it didn’t feel like a testament of her success over you. She never wanted to win when it came to you, it wasn’t about that, it was simpler. You were like a drug she got addicted to, but the good kind. Like being addicted on life. You made her feel alive independently of tennis. With you around, she actually would’ve been okay losing tennis forever because with you around, the story about how tennis was a relationship where you owed it to someone else to entertain them, to build a relationship and whatnot, it just didn’t work.

She felt healthier, in her mind and body with you, like genuinely be alright no matter where life lead her. And one day it all started crashing. Slowly. She should’ve seen it coming, or at least she could’ve paid attention taken charge to fight this the right way. She didn’t. When things got bad for her she’d focus entirely on tennis and when things got bad between you four, tennis was all that mattered until it wasn’t there anymore. She wouldn’t be choosing tennis had she known that it would take you away.

She had lost tennis too at the end so frankly, it didn’t matter anymore but she refused to lose her right to be mad at you too, because that’s really all she had left of you. Her anger and a daughter who grew to emulate parts of you she didn’t know she had missed.

“She hates bugs.” She said. It surprised you, it was soft, a whisper. Almost like she wanted to hide. You could only chuckle because it made you laugh, thought it didn’t make much sense.

“Everyone should hate bugs.” You responded.

“No…” she sighed, annoyed that she had to clarify. “She hates bugs like you do. Has to take off her clothes to check that they’re not there and take off the invisible veil of their presence on her skin.”

“That’s the best way to free yourself from the bugs.” That was weird, and uncool. She looked at you like you were a freak and for a second she was taken back to college, where you were the cool mysterious girl who everyone wanted to fuck but were too scared to approach. You really were a weirdo who hated bugs and could throw up if a caterpillar crawled your way. You were so cool to everyone but her. Just like now.

If you could’ve described her expression, you could only associate it with the way she looked at Patrick usually. That was the look she gave him when he’d forget himself and talk to her like she was any kind of girl he picked up off the street at a bar to fuck. She looked at you like you had lost your senses and had about five seconds to find them which was funny because she was the one losing it.

She loved you a whole lot, which was insane.

She stood and looked at you from above with disdain and contempt.

“You’re a pussy who runs away at the slightest of issues. I loved you, I list tennis and you left me because I wouldn’t coddle you anymore.” She spat venomously, aiming to hurt.

You looked at her, indeed hurt but also surprised. You were more wounded by what her words meant than what she had said.

“Y-You… You think I left because you weren’t playing anymore ?”

“That’s exactly what you did.”

And for the first time you were affected. This was the first encounter that had really thrown you back in the past.

You felt tears well up on your eyes, the feeling of your eyes trying to soak up the tears to keep you composed, so overpowering your throat was stuck. You didn’t want to cry and she didn’t want to make you cry, but she also did, because then maybe you’d feel exactly like she had for weeks back in the days.

“If… If tennis really had been what had sealed the deal, I would’ve stayed for Art, fucked him and gotten pregnant, Tash…” You chuckled, trying to conceal the pain that came with understanding what her best friend felt. You finally saw her view, all because of a simple phrase from her. “I left… I left because I was useless to all of you, Tashi… Without tennis to make you happy, what good was I around other than to have sex and remind you of how disposable I am ?”

You had cried yourself to sleep countless times, begging for assurance that you were good enough, that you could be loved, that you deserved it and weren’t disposable. Patrick’s words had been etched into your skull like a scar that wouldn’t ever go away. And she didn’t seem to see it correctly because she looked disgusted but really she was angrier than before at you for speaking up after a decade and at everything that had a part to play in her loosing her best friend.

“I never said any of that crap to you, so why would you think that ?”

“Because you hadn’t said the opposite, Tashi. You sunk and pushed me away, made me feel like shit for trying when I could never understand but you wanted them. Even Patrick you wanted him around. I was the waste of air…”

And she would’ve screamed at you that no, you weren’t, she had loved you and still did and would burn herself raw to show it, because she loved passionately and her passion with Art depended on you now, kinda. She would’ve slapped Patrick’s jaw off and had him searching for you to apologize. She would’ve done this a thousand other ways and shown you the years of tear stains and sleepless nights where she could only fall asleep to your voice on the TV, singing your life away as if she didn’t exist and wasn’t watching you. She wanted you to hear it, all of her anger and hatred.

Instead, Lily returned, running happily while you whipped your tears. She could only hear the ‘mommy’ coming out of her daughter before tuning her out to watch you. You knelt, listening to her talk about her rocks and the other kids while she watched or admired. Before she knew it, you had rolled away on your skateboard leaving her again.

If you presently took time out of your day to think about your exes, it wasn’t because it felt good to think about them, but because they were all crumbling, Tashi included, the most put together one of them. Patrick, it made sense. But Tashi, it was a surprise, though not so much. After Art had unilaterally decided, to announce his retirement, most likely without consulting his wife and coach, you had expected a shift, a the divorce announcement which had followed a month later was part of that. But to catch the three of them together, yelling at each other in the middle of a school was even more a surprise.

You’d been riding your motorcycle downtown when you passed a school. Stopping at the red light, you almost fell off your vehicle when you heard three more than familiar voices in front of a school gate. You felt them themselves had noticed you when all three stopped to turn in your direction. You were remained still, staring straight at them through your helmet. Tashi, always in the middle would be staring into your eyes if she would and a part of you wished she was, to see how she would react. Didn’t matter though, a part of you knew she had recognized you first, her body shifting from anger to unprecedented sorrow, like seeing a ghost of the person you had lived the most in a stranger passing by. You knew they were gone yet you still saw them and felt all the love you had missed out on giving them.

Lily noticed you next, how, you didn’t know, but she did, waiving her arm so hard it could come off at any second. The rest you tried to ignore feeling slightly, but only slightly, humiliated that you’d been pulled so easily into an impromptu dinner at Art’s apartment where Lily stayed for the week because you had stupidly promised her to recount the tales of your movies and concert adventures all over the world. And obviously, after the dinner from hell where each mention you had made about your past and its relation to your current career was met with a snarky comment, mention about a more than private anecdote or a longing look that made you feel like you had passed away tragically, you had to deal with The Conversation. Years of work, years of you steering clear off these people, all gone down the drain because of one little girl that just so happens to be a little too curious.

You would’ve honestly chosen to have a bullet going through your forehead before you willingly accepted to be in a situation like this one. But you also hated being inconvenienced and Art’s look of desperation was enough of one without dealing with Tashi cussing you out again, so yeah you accepted. Patrick was pretty chill, actually really nice to be around when sober.

And then ensued the longest and lost quiet ten minutes of your life, with Art looking down at you like you could evaporate, Tashi looking at you like you spat in her face and Patrick looking at you with genuine happiness, almost glad that you were here. You, were looking elsewhere, everywhere, analyzing the space and checking for the nearest exit. You would’ve made a run for it if you weren’t so fucking lazy, really. Unlucky you, victim of her own lacks.

Patrick was the first to talk, hesitant but clearly not feeling guilty or ashamed of anything. Or maybe he was but had learned to deal.

“I’m really happy to see you. I get to thank you for rehab.” He said and you almost glared at him, which he noticed, grinning like he used to, the smug fuck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat.

It made him chuckle really, how hard you tried to detach yourself from them but kept yourself in their orbit at almost all times. You were a brat and he was glad to see it hadn't changed.

“Right.” He nodded, complying with amusement. “Well, whoever is responsible in your team for my rehab as well as the apartment I got after, you’ll thank them for me.”

“They’re getting fired.”

You were stubborn, maybe more than him even, and he understood, definitely more than the other two who too busy hating you or loving you unconditionally.

Then began another five minutes of silence, broken once again by Patrick.

“Okay, I feel this is a waste of time.” He had barely started that you were already standing up to leave, quickly stopped by a frantic Art standing up in a hurry to stop you while Tashi’s head snapped in your direction coaxing you into sitting down with her eyes. Patrick enjoyed this greatly, how pathetic you made these two. “I mean, if we’re going to be here, we might as well talk. We need to, we haven’t in a while after all.”

Tashi’s anger changed focus to go to him, glaring at him with disdain.

“Since when did you become a fucking preacher of all things healthy and positive ?”

“Since someone nicely offered me a nice stay at a top tier rehab center that offered solo therapy sessions. The kind we all need.” Every word seemed to be pointed at you and you almost whished you’d left him to rot in the back of his car.

“I go to therapy, you ungrateful fuck, you won’t be teaching me shit about a healthy mental state.”

“Oh, what do you go for ? To learn to be less of a pussy and not run when things don’t go your way ?” Responded Tashi, more than annoyed by your condescension.

“No, I go to learn how to deal with nasty cold-hearted cunts who fail in life and take it out on everyone around them because they lost their lapdog husband to do that. Clearly it’s working because I’m here.”

“Oh look at her, she had a voice and a purpose now.”

“Don’t talk to her like that…” Muttered Art, finally losing it enough to speak up. It was cute, coming from a good intention and making shit worse.

“And look who finally grew a backbone ! Arthur Donaldson, standing up for someone, how nice. Of course it has to be for her, because if you won’t be fucking her behind my back and moaning her name while balls deep in me, you’ll be defending her.”

“Don’t start Tashi. You moaned her name more than I did, you’re mad that I got to see her and you didn’t, so let’s discuss that !” His voice increased in volume, meeting her as she stoop in to get in his face.

“Why the fuck would I need to see her ? She abandoned me ? She’s a fucking traitor !”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Tashi, because you drilled in my head that after your fucking knee gave up on you I didn’t serve any other purpose than a nice fuck to remind you that there was always someone more useless than you now !”

The voices were coming from everywhere, heated and hurt by the wounds of the past, the kind that couldn’t heal until they were acknowledged.

You were all breathing loudly, looking at each other in pure anger, the anger you had repressed for years, the nasty words and ideas that you had let fester in your minds, desperately trying to move on and to grow into better people. You were all bitter, and in a funny twist of things, the most insane one of you remained sat, smiling at the three of you, enjoying the show.

“Oh, sorry.” He raised his hand, waiving it nonchalantly. “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying this. Happy to see you communicate.”

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve punched their teeth in, but Patrick enjoyed this. Sober or not, he remained annoyingly toxic, thriving off of the chaos that follows him.

“You’re enjoying this ? Really ?” You sounded just as surprised as you were amused, balancing between two moods that had you going from hot to cold.

You watched him stand up and get closer to you, close enough for you to smell the mint body wash on his skin. Good Lord, he smelled so good you could fuck him right now.

His hands traveled from your forearms to your cheek, holding your jaw nicely while you tried to act utterly disgusted by his presence and his touch.

When he kissed you, all tongue and drool, it was a little more difficult to act, mostly when you pulled at his hair the way he like and when his hand moved to hold your throat softly.

“What do you need to drop this act ? You know you want us, sweetheart. You need us in your life and it’s really embarrassing that you’re still keeping up the bit after more than a decade.”

You would’ve been bewildered by his audacity had you not been almost fucked mercilessly into dealing with it. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t enjoy putting him in his place, which is what you did when you pulled him away from you by the hair before pushing him back into his chair but not pushing his hand away when it loved to you exposed hip bone.

“I don’t know what fucked up substances had been floating in your system that fried your brain, but you told me to fuck off and die Patrick.”

“You’re being dramatic.” He cut you off with a grin, enjoying the situation even more.

“If I remember correctly, you called me useless. That sounds pretty freaking clear to me. As a matter of facts, the two other’s didn’t even say shit to shut you up so you can choke for all I care. Because yes I left, but you gave me the only reason I needed to.”

And it was funny really, how anger made them all lose their memories because you had really been given a reason, but they still felt like victims.

“So you listen to what my bitch says now ?” Tashi chimed in, angering you further.

“I’m as much your bitch as he was so, yeah, if you’re not defending me, you’re agreeing with him.”

And the perspective wasn’t new to her. It just meant she was wrong all that long and that wasn’t something she could accept. She has thought for years that you’d looked for the exit, when in truth they had opened the doors for you.

And now, it was her turn to kiss you. Nasty and greedy, teeth knocking and pussies leaking as she cussed you out like never before. She wanted you and hated you for making yourself wanted after years. Wanted you so much she pushed you onto the table, swatting the teacups off the table to crash loudly. When her mouth traveled down your neck, biting along the way, as if she was attempting to catch up to years of not marking you as hers, you cried out her name all while pulling at her hair.

Maybe it was the use of the present tense that fucked with her brain on a cellular level. Or it was the way Patrick had kissed you as if he had rights over you when then knew she was the only one who had rights over you. And fuck, you looked so good when you were a bitch, that had her leaking out of her panties like never before.

She refused to take up responsibility but you also refused to admit that you had settled for less, accepting the apologizes hidden in her actions. Mouth mean and piercing when her touch was so soft, like an apology that wouldn’t come out.

When she slid your pants down along with your panties, you expected to get eaten out, instead confronted by a crying Tashi.

“What the fuck ?” You exclaimed, seating up and looking at her.

You tried to raise her hand but were pushed back down instead mouth stuffed with your panties while she hid between your thighs. You would’ve loved to get her tongue deep inside you but with her tears running down your inner thighs, it was hard to not be distracted. She sobbed louder, finally stopping before springing up and storming off.

Art was the one to stop her, worried for the woman he had seen cry maybe twice in his life. His eyes asked a thousand questions wonder and fear traveling through, powered by the fear of failing to rekindle the old flame that kept him alive.

“Why did you have to fuck her ?! Why do I have to deal with her again ?!”

It was harsh but you didn’t take it personally, never with her. She was a loyal person, ironically, and to lose the pillar that you were had killed her inside. Her finger pointed at you while she sobbed, letting go of years of resentment.

“You abandoned me ! You left me but you fucked him and you pay for the other to go to rehab ! He hurt you and you save his life when you should let him burn !”

The mask of assurance and anger was crumbling like a sand castle under a wave, traveling as fast as her tears. You wanted to reach and comfort your girl but now could be the wrong time.

“They get every piece of you, even from afar and I get nothing ! You give me nothing but fucking dust !”

This time you did reach out. Holding out your hands to her and letting her fall into your arms like she usually did. She never fought to reach you, she melted for you more than for anyone. Maybe that was why her marriage to Art had failed, because by default, you were the quickest route to her heart beyond the planning for the perfect tennis related life. You actually touched Tashi.

After a while she stopped crying and marched towards Patrick to slap him because he was a smug bitch and the source of all of this, but he was also a good sport and took it rather easily. He didn’t care about the slaps, not when they were a necessary step to getting you back into this circle, the correct universal order of things. And he was also pretty glad that she’d slapped him if it meant he could watch her lodge herself between your parted legs and stick two digits in your mouth to shut you up when you yelped at the coldness of her breath on you.

“You’re sick, you know that ?” She had chuckled when looking at you dripping center and rubbing her thumb on your clit. “I cry just a little and you actually get wetter. That’s fucked, even for you.”

Yeah you were weak to her tears and yeah it did make your insides throb but not because you liked to see her cry. It was because a very twisted part of you knew that only you could get her to act like that, only you could get her to lose that ego and be human for a second. And when she looked up at you with reddened eyes and lashes still a little covered in tears, you did moan because fuck she was hot. She was insane but she was hot and you’d missed having her tongue on you so you took it like the good girl she had trained you to be.

“See how easily things go when you stop being dramatic ?” Had scoffed Patrick, still grinning as he walked towards Art.

“Fuck y- Aah !” You couldn’t finish that sentence, nor when she sucked your clit in like she loved to do whenever you got mouthy. It trained you to be polite.

Patrick watched you slowly lose your resolve, twisted into a submissive little thing, the sweet girl he used to fuck into oblivion, not the egotistical pop star that refused to fucking talk to him.

While Tashi had her fun between your thighs, slid behind Art who evidently couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Oh, how he had missed you, all of you. To watch Tashi devour you like she did ignited a fire in him he hadn’t felt in about a decade, or six months if we went back to the last time he saw you. Here you were, laid on top of his kitchen like a godly offering meant for him to devour. He looked down at you core, watching your cunt throb in desire, never really satisfied until you were filled up properly.

He watched you with glossy eyes and a line of drool picking out of the corner of his mouth, he wanted his mouth of your tits, so nicely presented, bare under your top. Was that what you wanted ? For him to see you and think of your night together, like he had done for the last weeks ? Were you trying to get him to lose it ? He was going insane, more than usual. He could still see him jerk off in the shower, his bed or his TV whenever something about you came up in his head or his screen. He saw you and would cry at the loss of you all while cumming all over himself repeatedly.

“Look at this, pretty girl…” Muttered Patrick, running his nose down Art’s neck. “Look at your sweet boy, Art. Look at how hard you get him when you start acting nice with us ?”

His large hands slid under the blond man’s joggers, pushing the tiny briefs he wore to the side, to let his large cock be freed. You saw him sigh in relief, his long girth and thick balls finally freed from the piece of fabric barely covering them. You could salivate at the thought of him, how his pore dick just could never fully fit in the tiny underwear Tashi had him buy. He’d get aroused and need to push them to the side to breathe. Obviously, all that before you offered to get on your knees and relieve him from the itch.

And you were already getting crosseyed, losing your resolve quickly and forgetting why you were angry at them for all these years. You couldn’t remember, but you knew that you were ready to be used by every single one of them. Starting with your poor baby boy who tried his best not to jump you, respecting Tashi’s time with you all while leaking cum through his joggers. He tried to be so respectful that was the one to drop his pants and tug at his balls to give him a little friction.

A little always went a long way for Art, so when you saw him cum all over Patrick’s hand and not down your throat you were a little disappointed.

Tashi barely spared anyone a glance, to busy exploring your insides with her tongue. When your legs closed in around her, she knew you were close, enough to satiate a decade long thirst for your sweet juices. She sucked in your clit again and you tried to crawl away, too sensitive for the double sucking and penetration, her fingers sliding inside you to part you open properly.

You were so close, whining and moaning her name while rubbing your pussy on her face. But then she stood up, leaving you to cry out while you watched your orgasm die on her tongue.

“You really think I’d let you cum after you ghosted me for a fucking decade ?” She said, looking at you with a mix of disgust and amusement.

You wanted to scream and cuss her out for leaving you so high and letting you crash down, but you knew better and you knew she would do worst if you didn’t watch your mouth.

Patrick was the one to make a move, kissing forehead with another fucking grin. Was that the only thing he did ?

“Be nice to our girl, Tashi… She was certain that we hated her guts.”

“Yeah, well that’s not my problem. You fuck her if you want but she’s not cumming until I say she does.” Her gaze was decisive and you knew that was an order for the two men in the room as well as a threat to you.

You tried to plead with your eyes, pulling at her heartstrings to no avail, you’d need to make yourself be forgiven. But it was also easier to plead with Art who was still staring at you, desperately waiting for his moment. Patrick stared at you both, amused at your fickle attempt at restraint.

He'd always be the one to let himself be driven by his dick so really, he could salute Art for the attempt, had it been him, he would’ve fucked you stupid already. And he would, eventually, he wanted to, his throbbing cock a proof of that. But he wanted to deal with this shit first.

“How about we calm down and let all the anger go, huh Tash ? Look at our sweet girl, look how much she’s missed you ? How about we let her show us, huh ?”

For a few seconds, both looked into each other before she rolled her eyes, agreeing in silence. In mere seconds you were lifted up by Patrick, his hands holding onto your bare ass cheeks while toying with your pussy lips. His nose ran along your nose, inhaling your scent and the aroma of you on his tongue.

“You’ll get to put on a show for us, princess.” He said, nipping on your collarbone all the way down to your nipples. You closed your legs around his waist, throwing your head back in pleasure when his lips ran around your nipple, sucking it in vigorously.

He stopped in his track, turning towards a frozen Art, unmoving and red all over, from the tip of his ears to the tip of his cock. He watched the way you swallowed, eagerly waiting to get to suck him dry. He liked it, when you became just a little bit insane over Art’s cock, salivating at the idea of him drilling his cock down your throat.

Tashi had been watching you this whole time and the way you looked at the blond man. She liked how much you craved Art too, enjoyed watching you two fuck for hours, until you couldn’t think or form a coherent sentence. She stood up, walking in his direction and running a finger over the slit of his tip. He was shaking at the touch, almost ready to cum on the spot.

Tashi took his hand and followed after Patrick and you, dragging the man behind. She pushed him to the bed and Patrick threw you on top of him, Art’s arms wrapping around your waist protectively. He didn’t know what he was protecting you off but he wanted to be in his skin at the moment deep in every crevice of your being.

“Show us what you did together and I’ll forgive you.” She said, taking a seat right in from of the bed next to Patrick.

You could’ve refused, acted like you were better than that, had changed and grown out of that phase of your life and didn’t need her forgiveness. You could’ve been the mentally stable being you claimed to be, but you didn’t. Because you weren’t. You missed being used by all three of the people in the room, watched and admired as a vessel of their pleasure. You missed Tashi being mean to you in bed, so mean that you would cry for hours until she was done and cuddled you afterwards. You missed being used as a cum dumpster by Patrick and his disgusting ways of having sex, thick hairy balls rubbing over your face when he’d make you suck him off. And you missed Art taking you until you were left shaking in his arms, so roughly that neither of you could think a single rational, logical thought.

You missed the messiness of life with them, not prim proper and rational but genuinely sick and twisted, toxic filled bullshit that had you feeling passion like never before. You missed actually being better than them and rubbing it in their faces by always being the first to do the right thing.

You were just as twisted as them, calculated and conniving as the next. Birds of a feather, that was all you, all four of you insane and desperately in love, even if it hurt sometimes.

You didn’t talk shit out that night or the day after. You fucked all night, finally forgiven around 4AM, just in time for Tashi to sit on your face while Art and Patrick battled each other to eat the cum out of you. The weren’t sure whose it was but they wanted a taste. And that went along for the next day because while Patrick and Tashi could actually control themselves, Art never could, not with you. He kept going until his balls hurt and he’d been shooting blanks inside you.

Patrick wouldn’t apologize, not with words but with actions, because he was still an ego drive piece of shit and he refused to admit being wrong when it came to you. But he loved you so he became nicer and watched his words around you, because he refused to go insane again at the loss of you. Tashi would move on as if nothing happened, her girlfriend was back and she’d eventually get married with Patrick because she actually worked with Patrick and loved him the way she couldn’t Art, but never the way she loved you. Art would pamper you like you were heaven on Earth, worshipping the very ground you walked on and feeding off of your love for him just like you fed on his love for you, because you actually loved Art, loved him enough to get married and have that baby you talked about.

The dynamic was weird but it worked and it was all planned also. Nothing had really changed, except you, you became worse. Just as unstable as them.

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