#cream stucco siding

[blueskywalk]

Outdoor Kitchen Outdoor Kitchen in Tampa

Example of a mid-sized southwest backyard stamped concrete patio kitchen design with a roof extension

[decadentindustries]

Austin Patio Example of a mid-sized transitional backyard concrete patio design with a fire pit and no cover

[queenjunothegreat]

Chapter One: JASON Has a Bad Day

Okie dokie everyone! I've decided to stop being lazy and finally post The Heroes of Juno to Tumblr! I'm not gonna be spamming the tag, though, promise! I'll post one chapter on Sunday and one chapter on Wednesday until you guys are all caught up! I hope you enjoy!

According to Leo, their destination was a museum on the Grand Canyon, not that that really meant anything to Jason. Coach was herding them towards a squat, red stucco building when he shouted, “Do not — I repeat do not get separated from your partners, do you hear me?�� Leo turned to Jason, likely to inform him that they were working together, but Piper grabbed his arm before he got the chance. “You're my partner, Leo,” she said firmly. “Uh, sorry, but as the only one claiming to be a non-amnesiac, I'm here to tell you that I'm supposed to be with Jason.” “We're always partners on field trips, though.”  “Yeah, which is part of the reason Coach Hedge banned us from working together,” Leo pointed out. Then, in a remarkably good impression added, “McLean, Valdez, if you so much as look at one another on this trip, you'll be getting a one-way ticket to the bottom, fast lane!” “Which means you'll be working with me,” another voice drawled. Jason stiffened, which was the correct response, based on the disgust that crossed Leo and Piper's faces. Another boy, not quite as big as Jason, but definitely taller and broader than Leo and Piper both, had slung his arm around Piper's shoulders. “Lucky you.”

Master List

Jason knew he was going to have a lousy day when he woke up on a school bus holding hands with a girl. He was pretty sure that normally he wouldn’t mind holding hands with her, as she was very pretty, but he had no idea who she was or why he was holding hands with her. 

Apparently, the girl also didn’t know why he was holding her hand because she snatched it away and punched him in the arm with a surprising amount of force. Jason yelped in pain, but she just glared at him in obvious distrust, clutching her hand to her chest like she thought he would try to take it again. She was leaning so far away from Jason that he thought she was going to fall out of their shared seat, and when he went to balance her, she twisted her face into something that reminded Jason of a very agitated she-wolf

“Don't touch me,” the girl snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh, I’m Jason,” he stammered, putting his hands up in surrender. “And I don't—”

“What's wrong with you two?” a new voice asked. A boy was sitting on the seat in front of them by himself. He had his arms folded on the back of his seat and he rested his chin on them as he watched Jason and the girl like they were a tennis match. He raised an eyebrow when Jason gave him a blank look.

The girl, on the other hand, was visibly relieved. “Leo!” she all but hissed as she quickly vacated her spot at Jason's side and took up the one by her friend.

The other boy — Leo — turned and looked at her with his brow furrowed. “Seriously, Piper, what's up with you tw—”

“Who are you?” Piper interrupted glaring at Jason even more ferociously now that she was in a more defensible position. 

“What do you mean ‘who are you?’” Leo asked. “That's Jason. You know, big guy, blonde. Our best friend, your recent boyfriend? That Jason?”

“You're my best friend, and I would never date someone like him,” Piper corrected, giving Jason a somehow dirtier look than before.

Leo just looked confused for a moment before he laughed. “Alright, Pipes, whatever you say.” He gave Jason an easy smile. “Come on, Jason. Tell your amnesiac girlfriend who you are.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't know who either of you are,” Jason admitted. “I—I'm not even really sure who I am.”

Leo stared at him, gobsmacked. Then he turned to Piper with an almost betrayed look. “Okay, I get why Jason would be messing with me over the whole shaving cream on the Jell-o thing, but you, too? I didn't even do anything to you. You date the guy for two weeks and you're already picking him over me?”

Piper looked pained at his words, which Jason thought was odd because shaving cream and Jell-o sounded like something he wanted no part of. “No, you did the shaving cream and Jell-o thing to me. Because this guy,” she scowled at Jason just in case her message wasn't clear and Jason resisted the urge to scowl back, “wasn't even here when we got on the bus this morning.”

Leo wrinkled his nose at her and they made direct eye contact for several seconds in silence. They must have communicated something that Jason couldn't hear, though, because Leo laughed. “This is your idea of a prank? You telling me you don’t remember your boyfriend? Not your best work, Pipes.”

“Leo, I swear, I have never met that guy before in my life.”

Leo turned his amusement back on Jason. “You're serious, too? Committing to the bit?”

“I've never met either of you before in my life,” Jason said genuinely. 

Leo looked startled and a bit hurt for a moment – which Jason felt really bad about – but he quickly slapped on a smile and he shrugged. “Yeah, alright. I'm willing to play in this space with you guys. So, first things first: we go to this place called Wilderness School, AKA where all the problem kids get dumped. I ran away six times, Piper stole a BMW—”

“No, I didn't!”

“Right, right, he let you borrow it.” Leo rolled his eyes and gave Jason a look he somehow knew he was supposed to laugh at, but didn't and Leo winced. “And you—” he cut himself off and looked at Jason curiously. “I actually don't know what you did. I don't think you’ve ever told us.”

“That's because neither of us have ever spoken to him before,” Piper insisted. “Leo, do you really think I'd somehow just completely forget a person but remember everything else? There's no way that's how amnesia works.”

“Actually, it can be. Kind of,” Leo shrugged. “Though I'm not sure how you would have gotten it. Both of you, actually. Pretty sure head injuries are usually involved.”

“Look, I don't think I'm supposed to be here at all,” Jason confessed. “I think Piper,” she looked annoyed that he dared to use her name, “is right. I don't think I was on this bus this morning.”

Leo seemed to consider that for a moment before he leaned around Piper to look at the seat beside them. “Hey! Mary! Lisa! You see the blonde dude behind me? I can't for the life of me remember his name. Help a guy out?”

The girls snickered at him, but the one with red hair replied, “Pretty sure that's Jason. He's the bodyguard you and Piper hired to follow you around and clean up your messes.”

Leo snapped his fingers and shot them a wink. “That's it! It was on the tip of my tongue. Thanks, ladies!” The girls giggled again and Leo turned back to Jason with a look that clearly said See? I told you.

“They didn't say anything about us being friends with him,” Piper pointed out. “And they definitely didn't say anything about me dating him.”

“It hasn't been that long and you two are trying to keep things quiet,” Leo explained. “And everyone calls Jason our bodyguard after he kicked Tyler's ass for us the first week he got here.”

“Why would you need me to kick someone's ass for you?”

“Well,” Leo said, drawing out the word with a mischievous grin. “It may or may not have involved replacing his laundry detergent with bleach and RIT dye, and because Tyler has more biceps than brain cells, Pipes and I kinda needed someone to swoop in and save our skins. Which is where you come in, Superman.” He turned and gave Piper a frown. “Surely you remember that.”

“I remember pranking Tyler,” Piper admitted. “But I also remember us having to hide on the roof until curfew and missing dinner to avoid becoming a news head line.”

Leo frowned at her and opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by a short man in pristine white athletic wear yelling at them from the front of the bus. “McLean! What are you doing? You were strictly told not to sit with Valdez!”

“Sorry, Coach. What was that? We couldn't hear you all the way back here!” Leo shouted back, completely ignoring the conversation they'd been having moments before. “Maybe your megaphone will help?”

“Coach” whoever that was, seemed pleased with the idea and picked up his bullhorn, but instead of his voice, the only thing that came out was a tinny recording bellowing “THE COW GOES MOO,” which caused the bus to erupt in uproarious laughter. Coach turned purple. “Valdez!”

Leo and Piper ducked their heads together and snickered, elbowing each other in the sides while Jason blinked at Leo in baffled wonder. “You did that?” he asked. “How?”

Leo smirked at him and wiggled his eyebrows, twirling a tiny screwdriver between his fingers. “You may not remember, but I can assure you that I am a very special boy.”

“You're a menace is what you are,” Piper teased, Jason seemingly forgotten. 

“Oh, I'm the menace?” Leo snorted. “Care to remind the class who stole the megaphone?”

“That's it!” Coach shouted. He had abandoned the use of his favorite toy, but it still belted out the lyrics to “Old McDonald” because he had his fist in such a death grip that he wasn't able to let go of the button. “You three back there are going to be the official clean-up crew after lunch, capisce?”

Piper grumbled her discontent, and Leo rolled his eyes, but neither of them seemed all that upset. Something told Jason that the two of them were well-acquainted with lunch clean-up as a punishment. The mildly anxious churning in his stomach told Jason that he was not. He slouched down in his seat, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible while Leo and Piper did whatever they could to seek it out. Leo turned back around and he actually looked concerned when he looked at Jason. “You're really doubling down on the not knowing us bit, huh?” He glanced at Piper. “The both of you.”

“I'm beyond serious,” Piper swore. “You know I wouldn't lie to you about this.”

Leo didn't say anything in response, he just frowned at Jason like he was trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube with seven colors. Jason turned and looked out the window, unwilling to meet his gaze.

*-*-*

The rest of the trip was blessedly short and quiet. Coach had yelled at them about how Piper and Leo still weren't allowed to sit together, which had led to the two of them bickering over who was to give up their spot. Leo eventually gave in to Piper’s insistence that she was not sitting with Jason, and he climbed over the back of the seat and flopped down at Jason's side. Coach yelled even more about that, and Leo accidentally kicked Jason in the jaw, but he politely kept that to himself. At first, Leo thought it would be fun to fill Jason in on all the stuff he'd forgotten, and started up his “Crash Course for the Amnesiac”. Jason wasn't sure how truthful it was, seeing as he'd claimed to be a gift from the gods and that Jason thought he was so cool that he did all of Leo’s chores and surrendered all of his desserts, but it was somewhat entertaining. Leo quickly grew bored, though, and started fiddling with a ball of pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks he'd pulled from his pocket. Based on the way his fingers twitched and his eyes darted around the bus, Jason was pretty sure Leo got bored often. Piper, on the other hand, was more than content with watching Jason with narrowed eyes over the back of the seat the whole time. It made her look like she was nothing but a nose and a pair of angry eyebrows, but Jason knew better than to point that out. 

According to Leo, their destination was a museum on the Grand Canyon, not that that really meant anything to Jason. Coach was herding them towards a squat, red stucco building when he shouted, “Do not — I repeat do not get separated from your partners, do you hear me?”

Leo turned to Jason, likely to inform him that they were working together, but Piper grabbed his arm before he got the chance. “You're my partner, Leo,” she said firmly.

“Uh, sorry, but as the only one claiming to be a non-amnesiac, I'm here to tell you that I'm supposed to be with Jason.”

“We're always partners on field trips, though.” 

“Yeah, which is part of the reason Coach Hedge banned us from working together,” Leo pointed out. Then, in a remarkably good impression added, “McLean, Valdez, if you so much as look at one another on this trip, you'll be getting a one-way ticket to the bottom, fast lane!”

“Which means you'll be working with me,” another voice drawled. Jason stiffened, which was the correct response, based on the disgust that crossed Leo and Piper's faces. Another boy, not quite as big as Jason, but definitely taller and broader than Leo and Piper both, had slung his arm around Piper's shoulders. “Lucky you.”

“Don't touch me, Dylan,” Piper snapped, and Jason felt a bit guilty over holding her hand earlier because she sounded very familiar with that particular phrase. 

“Aw, don't be like that,” Dylan crooned. “Most girls would do anything to work with me.”

“What a coincidence. I'd do anything to avoid it.”

Dylan tilted his head back and laughed, running his fingers through his hair like he thought he was on some kind of commercial for hair care products designed to make you look like your hottest delinquent self. He looped his arms through Piper's and started dragging her along, ignoring the way she yanked to try getting away from him. Jason clenched his fists and grit his teeth.

“I hate that guy,” Leo said quietly. Jason turned to see Leo glaring after Dylan and Piper, and he looked so angry it made Piper's scowls from earlier seem almost cordial.

Jason reached out and brushed his knuckles along the back of Leo’s wrist. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I just hate that I—” Leo cut himself off with a sharp head shake and he gave Jason a wide smirk. “He's just so annoying, you know?” He rolled his eyes and put on a dumb little voice to say, “Wow, I am so cool and handsome and awesome. You guys are so lucky that you get to know me. I wish I could hang out with myself, but I can't figure out how, so you all will have to make do. Aren't I so generous? I'll take your thanks in the form of praises sung to my pure handsome awesomeness.”

Jason blinked down at Leo, but he couldn't really hide the way his voice trembled slightly on a suppressed laugh. “Leo, you are so weird.”

“Yeah, you tell me that a lot,” Leo grinned at him. “Now, come on. Let's get inside before Coach decides to make good on his Fast Pass promise.” He offered Jason his arm and batted his eyelashes like some kind of cartoon princess. “Shall we?”

Surprising both himself and Leo, Jason took the offered arm and let Leo drag him inside like Dylan had with Piper moments before. He figured that if his life was messed up enough that someone like Leo was his best friend that he might as well own it. 

*-*-*

Jason thought that the museum was probably really cool and interesting, and he was pretty sure that he might like to revisit it one day, but a lot of different things made it very hard to pay attention that particular afternoon. Coach Hedge had apparently decided that using his megaphone was worth occasionally sounding like a Sith Lord or helpfully informing everyone around him about the sounds various barnyard animals made because he was constantly shouting instructions in it, every now and then one of the other kids would shove Jason or Leo from behind and snicker, and he was still suffering from amnesia. Jason suggested that maybe Leo should take him and Piper to an adult to get medical attention, but Leo had snorted and informed him that Coach Hedge was the only adult around and that his idea of “medical attention” would likely be hitting them both over the head with his baseball bat in order to knock their brains back in place. Jason told Leo he watched too many movies. 

Leo was probably the most distracting thing, though. Ignoring the fact that he kept fishing a seemingly never-ending supply of nuts and bolts and string and wires out of his pocket to twist together, he was constantly bristling up at Jason's side and shooting murderous looks at some of the other girls in class. Jason understood why he was upset — after the third comment, he'd figured out that they were actively being mean to Piper, and even with her attitude towards him, he still clenched his fists with every sickly sweet barb thrown at her — but he couldn't understand why Leo wouldn't say anything. He'd just stand there and seethe in obvious resentment, but as soon as he noticed Jason looking at him, he plastered on a wide smile and made yet another dumb joke and pretended like he had no idea what Jason was talking about when he mentioned the girls. 

“Look, do you want me to do something about them or not?” Jason asked flatly. One of the girls had said something incredibly stupid about a rain dance and he felt his temple throb with frustration. “Because I will make them stop. But only if you and Piper won't get mad at me.”

Leo stared at him in shock for a moment and Jason thought he might play dumb again, but instead he just gave Jason a rueful smile. “Do I want you to? Sure, I love to watch you stomp around and bash heads, especially if it's someone who deserves it. But you probably shouldn't. Piper would get mad at both of us if we tried to turn her into some sort of damsel. Besides, you—” he poked Jason in the chest, “definitely can't do anything. You're already on thin ice; if you start a fight while we're on a trip, you'll definitely wind up in ‘self-focused learning and meditation’ again, and you hated it last time.”

“What's self-focused learning and meditation?”

“Well, this place isn't actually a prison, so they can't call it solitary confinement, but that's basically what it is,” Leo explained. “You're taken out of the dorm and you have to sleep in a room by yourself and you do one-on-one classes with the disciplinary teacher and you go to meals at a different time from everyone. It's  just you and your teacher slash prison guard for however many days they give you.”

“And I…” Jason gulped to quash down his queasiness. “I had to do that?”

“Once,” Leo shrugged. “You were stuck in it for three days and when you came out you didn't really want to talk about it. You made me and Piper promise to never let you get in enough trouble to do it again, though, which said plenty to me.”

Jason felt sick at the idea that he was ever getting in enough trouble to deserve that kind of punishment. He shuddered. “What about you and Piper? Have either of you had it?”

Leo shook his head. “Nah. Pipes and I make sure that they can't prove it was us. Everyone knows that we did it, but even Wilderness School follows the justice system. ‘If it doesn't fit, you must acquit’ and all that.”

Jason blinked. “What?”

Leo looked disappointed in him. “Dude.”

There was a sudden commotion and the two of them turned around to see Piper with her teeth almost bared at another girl, who was clutching her hand to her cheek in shock. “Coach, Piper just hit me!”

“No, I didn't!” Piper snapped back. She was subtly shaking out the fingers of her right hand, and having been on the receiving end of one of Piper's punches earlier, Jason almost felt bad for the other girl. Or, he would have if she weren't awful. 

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn't!” Piper turned to one of the other girls. “Amy, tell Coach that she's lying!”

Amy suddenly looked like she'd been hit by an invisible truck. She stared at Piper like she'd never seen her before and then turned to Coach Hedge and stammered out, “Uh, yeah. I— I dunno why Macy is saying Piper hit her, Coach. She definitely didn't.”

Jason gaped at her. Anyone with eyes could see that Piper had obviously hit the other girl, but everyone was muttering to themselves about how they were pretty sure Piper was telling the truth. Then again, it's not like Jason saw Piper hit Macy, and if everyone seemed to be in agreement, then maybe—

Leo snorted at his side and gave Jason a wide grin. “That's the other reason we've never landed in solitary. Piper is scary convincing when she wants to be.”

Coach actually seemed to be the one person Piper hadn't managed to convince, but it didn't really matter because he didn't really care. “No fighting! Now, come on, cupcakes,” he called. “You are about to see the Grand Canyon. Try not to break it. The skywalk can hold the weight of seventy jumbo jets, so you featherweights should be safe out there. If possible, try to avoid pushing each other over the edge, as that would cause me extra paperwork.”

Jason let Leo lead him outside, and when he did, the air rushed out of his lungs. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the Grand Canyon to look like, but this was beyond anything he could imagine. Jason had known that they would be pretty high up based on the drive, but he hadn't appreciated just how deep it would be. The cliffs were made of layers upon layers of rock, each one of them a distinct color from the one next to it like a rainbow of browns and oranges and grays. Bushes and trees were dotted around, but they were so far off that they just looked like little smudges of green to Jason. They were so high up that even birds were flying in lazy circles beneath their feet, and down at the bottom the winding river cut through the rock like a sacrificial knife through the gut of a teddy bear. 

Jason winced at the sharp pain that burst behind his eyes and rubbed his brow. He had no idea where the comparison had come from. What kind of person thought to compare one of the wonders of the natural world to teddy bear slaughter? But it felt important. It felt like an omen. Like something big was coming and he had to prepare.

A hand tugged at his shirt sleeve and he turned to see Leo staring at him with his eyebrows puckered in concern. “Hey, man, are you alright? You don't look too good.”

“I'm fine,” Jason dismissed, shaking his head. “I've just got a headache. You're the one who said I had some kind of brain injury, remember?” Leo didn't look convinced, so Jason offered him a weak smile. “Come on. Let's get a better look over the edge.”

Leo followed him, but the closer they got to the edge, the antsier Leo got. When a cold wind blew across the skywalk hard enough that it would have knocked him down if Jason hadn't been there to steady him he scowled up at the sky. “Dude, there is no way this is safe. Look at this storm. It's literally right above us and nowhere else. There's gotta be some freaky weather shit going on.”

Jason looked up and saw what Leo was talking about. There was an inky black storm cloud above them — a perfect anvil-shaped cumulonimbus, and Jason didn't stop to wonder why he knew that of all things — but everywhere else was the same crystal clear skies they had driven through on the way here. Coach shouted something about making their time out there quick, and Jason's headache got worse. He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jeans and frowned when his fingers brushed up against something cold.

He pulled it out and examined it. It was a coin. It appeared to be solid gold, about the size of an extra thick half dollar, but it was lumpy like the person who made it wasn't exactly skilled at making coins. A battle ax was stamped on one side, and some guy surrounded by laurels was on the other. Carved around the edge were the letters IVLIVS.

“Dude, what is that?” Jason turned to see Leo eyeing the coin appreciatively. “Is that real gold? Can we sell it?” A thought occurred to him, and he gave Jason a betrayed look. “Wait, don't tell me you were rich this whole time, too. It's bad enough that Piper is richer than the Pope, but I thought you were middle class at best.”

Jason’s frown deepened. His grip on the coin tightened like it was a safety blanket. It felt important. like he was going to need it soon. He stuffed it back in his pocket. 

“I dunno. Pretty sure it's just a coin, though.”

Leo raised an eyebrow at him, but he shrugged, happy to let it go to move onto bigger and better things. By this point, Jason was pretty sure Leo was always moving in every sense of the word. “Come on. Dare you to spit over the edge.”

*-*-*

Jason wanted to say that he and Leo put effort into their worksheet, but that would be a lie. In his defense, he didn’t know what most of the words meant. How was he supposed to “name three sedimentary strata” or “describe two examples of erosion” when he was asking Leo to define every other word? Besides that, he was still more than a little distracted by the freaky storm and his own mixed-up feelings and making sure to avoid Piper’s gaze every time she saw him talking to Leo.

Leo wasn’t exactly helpful, either. He was too busy messing with his pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks from earlier. He didn’t even have his worksheet because he’d apparently folded it up into a flock of birds when he was bored in class the day before.

“Were they able to fly?” Jason asked, tilting his head to the side.

Leo snorted. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Probably.”

“Then yes. The origami cranes I made in pre-cal were absolutely capable of self-sustained flight,” Leo said with a fond eye roll. “Now, watch this.”

As Jason watched, Leo furtively glanced both ways before gently tossing his pipe cleaner contraption over the side of the fence. Jason could tell it was a little helicopter now that it wasn’t hidden by Leo’s hands. He expected it to immediately spiral down and crash, but instead the little propellers actually spun and got halfway across the canyon before giving out. Jason gawked at where it fell before turning back to Leo. He was definitely sure that if Leo told him he’d somehow managed to fold life into his origami, Jason would believe him. “How did you do that? That was amazing.”

Leo’s grin from before came back, wide enough to make his nose wrinkle. “You should have seen the prototype. It would have worked loads better if Mrs. James hadn’t confiscated my rubber bands.”

Jason couldn’t help but notice that Leo didn’t actually answer his question of how it was done, but he figured he probably wouldn’t understand even if Leo had whipped out a blackboard and gone over every step. “Are you sure we’re friends?”

“Last I checked, yeah.”

“How?” Jason asked earnestly. “Like, how did we meet? Why did we start hanging out? What was our first conversation like?”

Leo frowned. “Hey, man, I’ve got ADHD. You know I’m not great with remembering details like that. I just remember that you came to school around the time they decided Piper and I couldn’t share a dorm, so you and I wound up together. You didn’t really talk to anyone at first, and then, like I told you, you saved us from Tyler that one time and the three of us have been inseparable since. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“Because I don’t remember any of it,” Jason insisted. “I don’t remember you or Piper or Wilderness School. I don’t remember anything but it feels like I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t know why you and everyone but Piper remembers me but I feel like…”

“Like we’re all wrong and you’re the only one who’s right?” Leo suggested. “What, like we all have fake memories? Piper’s the only one remembering stuff properly?”

Jason winced. It sounded crazy when Leo put it to words, but a little voice in his head screamed Yes! That’s exactly what I think! “Yeah, pretty much.”

Leo pursed his lips. “Look. Jason. I don’t think I like this game you and Piper are playing anymore. Like, I never thought it was all that funny to begin with, but at this point keeping at it is kind of just a dick move. Can you just drop it? You got me, okay? Haha, Leo caved first or whatever. But this sucks, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said softly. He felt a bit like a horse had kicked him in the chest, but that didn’t change the facts. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t remember you.”

Leo looked like he wanted to be angry, but any fire in his eyes was doused by the little well of hurt that it was sitting on. He turned his head sharply. “Give me the worksheet. I’m going to go describe shale or whatever.”

Jason dutifully handed over the paper and watched Leo turn on his heel and wander over towards one of the podiums with fun facts that they’d mocked together not too long ago. Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit like a dog who had been left on the side of the street. No matter what Leo said or thought, Jason didn’t know these people, and so far Leo had been the only person willing to give him the time of day. 

He looked around feeling a bit lost when a gruff voice shouted, “Hey, blondie!”

Jason’s head whipped around. Coach Hedge was staring him down, but he still looked around him before pointing at himself. “Yes! You! Come here!”

Jason did as he was ordered and trotted over to Coach Hedge’s side. “Uh, yes, Coach? Sir?”

Coach Hedge visibly recoiled at the title. “Don’t call me that. It’s unnatural.”

“Uh, sorry. Coach.”

He snorted, then gave Jason a critical look over and gestured at the sky. “Is this you?”

“Is what me?”

*-*-*

“Don’t toy with me, kid,” Coach Hedge snapped glaring up at him from under the white brim of his baseball cap. “You and I both know this storm isn’t natural. Now, tell me who you are, where you came from, and why you’re trying to screw up my job.”

Jason’s heart leapt. “So, you don’t know who I am? I’m not one of your students?”

“Never seen you before today.”

Jason wasn’t sure if he was going to cry, collapse, or kiss the short gym teacher. Well, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to kiss Coach Hedge, but the other two options were still on the table. “Look, I don’t know who I am or how I got here. I woke up on the bus with no memory and Leo just started telling me that we’re best friends. I just know I’m definitely not supposed to be here.”

“You can say that again!” Coach Hedge barked. Then his voice got dangerously low and quiet and Jason felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. “Listen here, kid. You may know your way around manipulating the Mist with the way you have everyone fooled, but you couldn’t get one past me. I’ve been smelling a monster for a while now, but I can tell it’s not you. You smell like a half-blood and a powerful one at that. Now. Tell me who you are and how you got here.”

Jason felt a bit closer to crying than before, but he grit his teeth. “I told you, I don’t know. I don’t remember anything before waking up on the bus earlier. You’ve gotta believe me. I need help.”

Coach Hedge studied him, and then, for some reason, he took in a deep breath through his nose like he was trying to sniff something out. Whatever he smelled was obviously unpleasant because he grimaced. “Great. You’re telling the truth.”

“Of course I am! I’ve been telling the truth all day, you’re just the first person to believe me. And what do you mean about Mist and monsters and half-bloods? Are you part of some secret organization? Are those codewords or something?”

Coach narrowed his eyes at him. “I can’t tell you who you are, I can just tell you what you are, and right now what you are is a major problem. I already had my hands full protecting two before, I wasn’t exactly planning on someone coming in and making it three. Wait, are you the ‘special package’?”

“I don’t think so? What package?”

Coach glowered up at the storm which was getting worse by the minute. Some of the other students had started to notice, and were muttering to one another and gesturing at the dark clouds. Jason quickly looked around for Leo, who was standing a safe distance from the edge and shifting from foot to foot like he was going to take off running at a moment’s notice, and Piper, who was glaring at Dylan like this was somehow his fault.

“I got a message from Camp this morning,” Coach said. “There’s an extraction team on the way. Said there was some special package that they needed to get as soon as possible, but they wouldn’t tell me what it was. I figured it was the two I was watching. They’re obviously powerful and older than most and I know for a fact that there’s something after them. Thought maybe Camp had just decided they needed these two ASAP, but then you show up and throw a wrench in every plan. So, tell me. Are you the package or not?”

Jason’s headache was getting even worse. Everything Coach Hedge was saying sounded crazy, but at the same time it made sense. Well, it almost made sense. It felt like an encrypted message and Jason just needed to remember the cipher key. “I told you. I don’t know.”

Coach wasn’t pleased with his answer, but he seemed to understand it was the only one Jason could give him. “Fine. I’ll just keep an eye on you until reinforcements arrive. Then we’ll take you to Camp, and the director can figure out what to do with you.” 

Jason did not like that phrasing. “What director? What do you mean ‘do with me’?”

“Just sit tight. Like I said, they should be here soon. We just have to hope nothing happens before–”

Lightning crashed directly overhead and thunder rolled loud enough to shake the earth and Jason froze. Kids started screaming and stumbling around, clinging to each other. Jason whipped his head around to see Piper and Leo scramble towards each other, but Dylan grabbed Piper’s arm and yanked her back, and the wind blew Leo so hard he fell over. 

Coach swore under his breath. “I just had to say something, didn’t I? Couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.” He pulled out his bullhorn, and Jason was relieved that it worked as intended this one time. “Alright, everyone! Back in the museum! Off the skywalk! Now! Move it or lose it! Lawrence, get your tail in gear or you’ll be doing suicides until you die!”

“I thought you said this thing was stable!” Jason yelped as the bridge shuddered and swayed beneath his feet. 

“Under normal circumstances, it is.” Coach said seriously. “These circumstances are anything but normal. Come on!”

*-*-*

The freaky storm from before had churned itself up into a hurricane. Funnel clouds formed and dipped, reaching towards the bridge, but never quite making it all the way down. Jason could almost hear a taunting voice snickering I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!

Hats and notebooks and backpacks whipped back and forth through the air, their owners having abandoned them to the winds in their panic to get inside. Jason slipped and skidded across the slick glass to where Leo had been knocked over and hoisted him to his feet by the back of his jacket.

“Thanks!” Leo yelled. “But can you maybe go for a less ‘momma cat and kitten’ approach next time?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said distractedly. “Come on, we need to get inside!”

Coach Hedge was blue in the face blowing on his whistle, waving kids into the museum where Piper and Dylan were struggling to keep the doors open. Well, Piper was struggling. Her snowboarding jacket was flapping all around her and her expression was screwed up in effort to keep her door from slamming shut, but she still seemed confident as she urged the other students inside. Dylan just stood there, holding his door with one hand, not a hair out of place while he watched the chaos with something like amusement on his face. 

Soon, Jason, Leo, and Coach Hedge were the only ones left outside. Jason pushed forward, keeping his grip on the back of Leo’s jacket to make sure he wouldn’t blow away, but every step felt like he was towing a pick-up truck behind him. Jason wasn’t sure how, but he knew with every fiber of his being that the winds were fighting him specifically.

Then, as soon as the last kid was inside, Dylan grinned malevolently and slammed the door shut with a blast of wind that managed to knock Piper’s grip loose, too. Piper uselessly yanked at the door handles, before rounding on Dylan with fury in her eyes. “Help me,” she snarled.

Surprisingly, Dylan reached out a hand for the door, but shook his head and dropped it just as fast. He smirked at Piper. “Sorry, but it’s time for the next act in our show. And I don’t need you interrupting it with your little tricks.” He flicked his wrist and Piper went soaring through the air to land in a heap against a nearby wall.

“Piper!” Leo cried. He tried to charge forward, but Jason held him back. “Lemme go!”

“Stay behind me, kids!” Coach Hedge barked. He had his baseball bat in his hands, but as Jason watched it started to look less like a baseball bat and more like a crude club with leaves and vines growing off it. “I knew there was a monster skulking around. I should have known it was you!”

“What are you talking about?” Leo demanded. A worksheet hit him in the face, but he smacked it away. “What monsters?”

As if to answer his question, a gust of wind snatched Coach’s hat right off his head. There, below his curly hair were two little horns. He hefted his club. “Come at me!”

“Why bother?” Dylan cackled cruelly. “It’s not like you’re a threat. I mean, they retired you, didn’t they? That’s why you’re at this school in the first place. And it’s not like you’re doing all that well here, either. I was on your track team for two months, right under your nose, and you never noticed. Do you really think you can keep three half-bloods safe? Admit it, you old goat; you’ve lost your touch.”

Coach bleated angrily at him. “I’ll show you who’s lost their touch, cupcake! You’re going down!”

Dylan’s smile was maniacal. “Not before that one does.” He pointed at Leo and a dark funnel cloud erupted from his fingertip, snatching Leo out of Jason’s hold and sending him toppling over the side of the bridge.

“Leo!” Jason shouted, eyes wide with horror.

As Jason watched, Leo scrambled at the rocky cliff face, and finally managed to get a foothold on a thin outcropping of stone. His eyes were screwed shut and his voice pitched a bit when he shouted, “Hey! Can someone please come get me? This really fucking sucks!”

Jason looked around desperately for some sort of rope, but Coach was faster. He shoved his club at Jason’s chest and said, “You take care of that windbag! I’ll get Valdez.”

“How? Can you fly?”

“Not fly, kid.”

Then Coach did something Jason would never forget: He dropped his pants.

That would have been traumatizing enough on its own, but Jason now had to grapple with the fact that his PE coach had goat legs. “You’re a faun!”

Coach gave him a disgusted look. “I’m a satyr. Now, get in there!” Then without another word, he hopped over the fence and started picking his way down with the confidence and efficiency of a mountain goat. Which, he kind of was. Jason’s formerly-forgotten headache throbbed a bit, and he decided to think about anything but the half-goat man. He turned back to Dylan and gripped the club.

Dylan snorted at him. “Cute. But yeah, I’ll take you out first. I’m flexible.”

He lifted his hand, but before he could blink Jason threw the club at him with all his might. Had Jason even thought about what he was doing for half a second, he likely would have dismissed the idea because there was no way he would have managed to hit Dylan through all the wind. Fortunately, Jason was running on pure instinct because the club curved through the air like Jason was guiding it with his mind and hit Dylan directly in the gut, knocking him flat on his butt.

Dylan got back to his feet before Jason could celebrate his victory. He spat blood – gold blood – onto the ground. His eyes flashed like lightning and the winds picked up around him, shaking the skywalk so hard that hairline fractures spread over the glass like spider webs. He rose into the sky and then his body dissolved into smoke. Jason could still see where he was, his face was still the same – oddly handsome, contorted in rage – but he was see-through and almost angelic in a strange, evil kind of way. 

“You’re a ventus!” Jason gasped, though he couldn’t say how he knew that. “A storm spirit!”

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Dylan snarled. “I was considering letting you live before this. The other two would have made a fine prize, but my mistress told me to wait. Said another was coming. I’m sure she will be pleased to know that I killed you here.”

Jason clenched his fists. He was unarmed, but when he glanced over to where Coach’s club had rolled off to, he saw that Piper was on her feet, club held aloft like she was getting ready to hit a homerun. She had the element of surprise; maybe if Jason kept Dylan busy, she could sneak up on him and make good on the murder in her eyes. 

Dylan was too quick for him. Before he could open his mouth, two inky black tornados carrying their own storm spirits touched down in front of Piper and Dylan lifted his hand and blasted two bolts of lightning directly into Jason’s chest.

Surprisingly, Jason wasn’t dead. He’d lost one of his shoes, so his sock was soaking wet, and his mouth tasted like he’d gotten his chewing gum confused with a jar of fifty year old pennies, but he was alive. He blinked the stars out of his eyes and saw Piper furiously swinging at the storm spirits around her, but every swing passed through them. That didn’t stop the storm spirits from being scared of her, though, evident by the way neither of them would get close to her. Beyond that, Jason saw Coach Hedge bouncing up the cliff with a Leo-shaped koala clinging to his back. 

Dylan swaggered towards him, back in his normal teenager body, with a smirk on his face, and Jason’s chest filled with rage. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and glared at Dylan. “Cute,” he spat, venom dripping from his tone.

Dylan pulled up short and he looked terrified for a moment. “How are you alive? That was enough electricity to short out New York City! Just who are you?”

Jason ignored him. Once again acting on impulse, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the old gold coin. He tossed it in the air, but when he grabbed it, it wasn’t a coin any more. It was a sword, gold all the way through, perfectly balanced, with a handle that felt like it was designed to fill Jason’s palm. Jason felt something click into place in the back of his mind and he gave Dylan a wicked grin. “My turn.”

“Kill him!” Dylan screeched, backing away with wild eyes. “Kill him!”

The other two storm spirits didn’t exactly look thrilled at the order, but apparently Dylan was the windbag in charge, so they abandoned their assault on Piper and started slowly approaching Jason. 

Jason didn’t wait for them. With a battle cry from the depths of his chest, he charged. It wasn’t a long fight. Jason sliced through them both, shattering them into gold dust, and turned his attention back on Dylan.

At that moment, Coach hefted himself over the edge of the bridge and dropped Leo, then whirled around with his fists up like he was ready to start boxing. When he realized that Dylan was the only one left, he scowled at Jason. “Really? You couldn’t have left some for me? I was looking for a challenge!”

“Leo almost died!” Piper snapped. “You do not need to be asking for challenges!” She and Leo had immediately run together as soon as he was back on the bridge and they were clinging to each other. Jason was relieved to see that Leo looked no worse for wear, though he was smearing blood from his hands all over Piper’s jacket, but Jason doubted if either of them cared all that much. 

Dylan didn’t pay attention to them, he was too busy glaring at Jason. “You have no idea what kinds of enemies you’ve made today, demigod. My mistress will awaken, and she will bring with her foes you couldn’t dream of. She will destroy all demigods. You cannot win this war.”

Jason tightened his grip on his sword. “Yeah? Well, I’ll be sure to tell your mistress hi for you, because you’re not going to get the chance to do it.”

The sky opened up above them, clear blue in the sea of black, and Dylan smirked at Jason triumphantly. “My mistress calls me back, and I’m taking you with me.”

Dylan dove towards Jason, who braced himself for the attack that never came. In a burst of heroic goat-itude, Coach Hedge headbutted Dylan so hard it knocked him completely off-course and sent him rolling away. Unfortunately, it also caused a blast of wind that knocked Jason and Coach on their butts and separated Piper and Leo. 

Jason tried to attack, but Dylan was faster. He grabbed the closest person to him, Piper and took off into the skies. “Fine! I’ll settle for this one!”

“Help!” Piper screamed. “Somebody help!”

Jason froze, considering if he could throw his sword with enough accuracy to hit Dylan without getting Piper, but in that split second Coach Hedge had already made and executed his plan. He ran at the ledge, then with all the strength he had in his little goat legs, he launched himself at Dylan and Piper. He barreled into them mid-air, and they scuffled for a moment. 

Then Piper fell.

“Piper!” Leo screamed, flinging himself at the side, half hanging over and reaching out towards her, grasping at nothing but air. “Piper!”

Without a thought, Jason jumped after her.

Next Chapter

[conkreetmonkey]

holy shit this is long... tldr; I get neurodivergent over masonry

So I've been doing a lot of research on building methods, from the conventional to the old school to the new, and one thing I always found missing from older methods (as in basically anything that isn't either solid concrete or stick-frame) was the lack of hard, impassable moisture barriers on exterior walls. Surely a wall that looks like old red brick on the outside and inside must have more layers in between, right? Where's the housewrap? Where's the bitumen or tar paper? Pretty much all old-school roof materials I've seen have had some sort of waterproof layer under the shingles, but never the walls, floors nor foundations themselves.

Now, I live in a town with a lot of 100 year old buildings, which isn't that old but still predates the prevalence of the 2x4 and the popularization of plastic. I've been in many buildings where the walls on the inside are seemingly the same clay brick material as the ones on the inside. My grandma's basement was seemingly made from assorted stone, and I've seen many basements with walls of brick or cinderblock. Despite the inherent porosity of their materials, these walls hold strong through the harsh Canadian winters and the soggy spring thaw, the wood and plaster up against them free from water damage or mold. It felt impossible. Surely there was something I wasn't seeing, right? Surely you can't just build a 2-whyte brick wall with an air gap in between and some drainage holes and just have it work, right? Where's the mould? Where's the mildew? Where's the water damage, and crumbling from repeated freeze-and-thaw cycles?

I was unable to find a straight answer, despite the fact that I was obviously missing something. You can't just stick insulation, plasterboard and framing joists up against a brick wall that's exposed to outside air on the other side, right? Surely it will rot!

The only things I was able to find were synthetic sealing creams that make things hydrophobic, and something about a metal "dimple sheet" that required you to "decouple" the roof joists from the walls to install it, because it was simply assumed that you'd be installing the product in a preexisting brick house. Both of these things were obviously modern, and heavily flawed as products. The sealants needed reapplied every 5 years and didn't even provide full protection, and the metal sheet, once installed, required that no wood any longer touch the bricks as it would somehow become guaranteed to rot. This isn't even what I wanted to know. How did people 100 years ago build the buildings I know I've stood in, where the bricks were free from chemical sealants and physical moisture barriers yet didn't let the rain in?

Finally, after posting to a masonry forum, I recieved my answer.

There is no secret ingredient.

The exterior layer of bricks simply get wet when it's wet and dry out when it's dry.

Limestone is naturally antifungal and antibacterial, so mold simply cannot grow on materials made from it. Lime plaster allows water vapour to pass through it, yet resists actual liquid water, so at once water cannot become trapped within it and fester, but applying a lime stucco to exterior walls or a plaster to interior ones prevents leakage while allowing water vapour in the air to pass through, and thus the house to "breathe." Additionally, old insulation "fluff" that is now made from foam or fibreglass was then made from wool, which is also naturally antibacterial. And wood, of course, can simply be sealed to prevent decay with a multitude of different methods, if that's even needed, which it often isn't unless it's actually touching a surface that can be expected to routinely become moist.

Old buildings simply weren't built with absolute airtightness in mind. There's no one layer that's 100% moistureproof in an old exterior wall; even water repellant surfaces such as lime stucco allow humidity to pass through. There's no hydrophobic layer of tarpuline, rubber or tar anywhere but on the roof.

Dudes, I'm starting to realize that modern stick-framed housing insulated with pink fiberglass and made of pine, chipboard and plastic wrap... kind of sucks? Like, they have their advantages surely, they're immensely easier, quicker and cheaper to build, and way easier to heat/cool, but they're also flimsy and, quite ironically, actually MORE prone to mold than old school buildings, because once the housewrap under that vinyl siding, stone block veneer or board-and-batten starts to go (and it will eventually), it's a single point of failure, and everything behind it is prone to rot? And if moisture does seep in, it has no way to escape due to the moisture-tight, airtight quality of the home, so it has no choice but to fester? Like, think about taking a hot shower, and the steam that builds up, only removable from the home with a modern HVAC fan or by opening a window. Think about how, if you don't do one of those things, you're all but certain to get mold on the drywall. That's because of the lack of vapour-permeable materials! It simply can't pass though any exterior wall, back outside into the air! The air is stagnant by default!

And look, this is not me claiming that stick-frame is inherently bad, or that old style building methods are always better. Back then they put asbestos in the walls and lead in the pipes, paint and windows. Technology has moved forward, not back, and is continuing to move forward, becoming better, stronger, more efficient. But when the modern home uses housewrap and housewrap alone as waterproofing, it's hubris manifest. It's a sheet of plastic screwed to some plywood with a wide washer. Eventually, there will be a leak, inside or out, and once that happens you're all but guaranteed destructive rot and mold. It's a tradeoff, exchanging durability and ease of maintainence for cheaper construction and better insulation, and sometimes that's justifiable, but nowadays it seems to be the only option in all of suburbia.

Limestone is a great material. It has a variety of uses, it's abundant, it's simultaneously water resistant and breatheable, it prevents mold, and it can even self-heal from minor damage. Clay and stone may be porous, but they're strong. These materials have their downsides, but they're not inferior. Pretty much no material is (except for fucking cordwood, which just plainly sucks ass in 95% of situations). Logs and timber have a place. Concrete has a place. Steel and other metals have a place. Plastic has a place. So long as it's not toxic, it has a place. There is no one best way to build a building, just as there is no one best way to cook a meal; it depends on where you are and who you're serving it to.

And now that I understand the simple genius of lime mortar and stone or clay blocks, I feel bad that they're not really used in the mainstream anymore. Sometimes, it's better to accept that moisture exists and have a multi-faceted system for directing it away from decay-prone materials, rather than to try to "defeat" it entirely with the modern miracle material of plastic, and then cockily build everything behind the plastic out of rottable materials. No home can go forever without repairs, just as no person, tool or machine can. The question is whether there's any redundancy, or if one failure in a crucial area destroys the whole system.

I've always loved masonry aesthetically, and now I love it functionally as well. This world has so many wonderful things in it.

[abdlgirl25]

Evie goes to a regression clinic

Chapter ONE

“Stupid, good-for-nothing hunk of metal!” I slammed my fist against the steering wheel as Bertha, my old 1950s truck, coughed and sputtered to a stop on the side of the road. The name was fitting—she was as temperamental as they came. Frustrated, I kicked the floorboard and jabbed the horn, even though I knew it wouldn’t help.

I never should have taken her so far outside the city. Now, I’d never get back.

Thunderclouds churned in the distance, flickering with flashes of lightning. The storm was closing in fast, but I was stuck. This wasn’t the first time Bertha had failed me. Lately, it had been the fuel injector, but last month it was the alternator, and the month before that, the radiator. I needed to face facts—Bertha was beyond saving.

Sighing, I pulled out my phone to check for a signal. Of course, there was none. Middle of nowhere: 1, Evie: 0.

I glanced back toward a gated facility about a quarter of a mile behind me—the only structure for miles. It was now or never. Grabbing my backpack and what few belongings I had, I stepped out and slammed the door shut, leaving Bertha behind.

The walk to the gate was short, or maybe I was moving faster with the storm breathing down my neck. The walls loomed ahead, ten feet of concrete and stucco, unyielding and unscalable. The wrought iron gate at the center was ornate but solid, with a security camera aimed directly at me.

“Name and reason for visit,” a metallic voice crackled from the intercom.

“Uh…” I hesitated, scratching my head. “My truck broke down, and I don’t have cell service to call for help. Can I use your phone?”

Silence. I glanced over my shoulder at the storm creeping closer.

“There’s a big storm coming,” I added, my voice tinged with urgency. “I’d really like to get out of it.”

With a buzz, the gates swung open.

I stepped inside and watched as they locked shut behind me with a quiet finality. My unease grew. What kind of place was this? Aside from a street number at the entrance, there was no sign or logo to indicate what this facility was.

A wall of rain suddenly crashed down, the temperature plummeting as icy wind swept over me. Clutching my backpack to my chest, I dashed toward the massive three-story European-style manor ahead. Its wooden trellises and pergolas blurred in the downpour. The heavy wooden doors swung open just as I reached them, and I glimpsed a small metal plaque: Statford’s Regression Clinic.

A spa for the wealthy? I wondered. It seemed secluded and private enough to fit the bill. Without hesitation, I stepped inside, grateful to escape the storm.

The warmth of the interior enveloped me immediately. A woman with a glowing smile greeted me.

“Well, hello there,” she said, her eyes widening as she took in my soaked appearance. “Oh my, dear, you’re drenched! Wait just a moment.”

She disappeared into a small closet near the front desk, returning with the fluffiest towel I’d ever seen. Wrapping it around me, she fussed gently.

“Just a tad wet,” I muttered, glancing around. “If I could just borrow a phone, I’ll be out of your hair.” I held up my useless cell phone as an explanation.

“Oh, no, that’s unfortunate,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “But why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable first? Let’s get you taken care of, and then I’ll see about that phone call.”

She ushered me to a spacious sitting room. It was empty—no surprise, given it was past seven in the evening.

“You’re lucky, dear,” she said, pulling thick cream-colored curtains across the windows. The rain pounded against the glass like hail. “I can’t imagine being caught out in this storm. You’d catch a dreadful cold.”

The room felt cozier as the heavy curtains blocked out the harshness of the storm. Soft light from wall sconces bathed the space in a warm glow.

“Wait here, sweetie,” she said, her tone motherly. “I’ll be back in a moment to let the attending know we have an unexpected visitor. Would you like something to warm you up? Perhaps a cup of hot milk or cocoa?”

“Hot cocoa, please.” My eyes lit up at the thought.

She smiled warmly. “Of course, dear.”

With a swish of her skirt, she disappeared down the hall. Left alone, I took in my surroundings. A fireplace dominated the back wall, framed by towering bookshelves filled with everything from medical journals to children’s fables. A small table in the corner, surrounded by tiny chairs and a basket of toys, caught my attention.

It seemed odd for a spa, but maybe they entertained kids while parents indulged in luxurious treatments.

The woman returned, carrying a mug of cocoa topped with an impressive swirl of whipped cream.

“Here you go, dear,” she said, handing it to me.

I smiled from ear to ear, the warmth of the mug immediately soothing my cold hands.

“I realized I never introduced myself,” she added. “I’m Mrs. Able. What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Oh, um…” I paused to lick whipped cream off my lip, savoring its homemade sweetness. “I’m Evelyn, but most people call me Evie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evie,” she said with a kind smile. “Now, would you like another towel? You’re still dripping wet, and we don’t want you catching cold.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, clutching the mug. “But maybe that phone call?”

Her face fell slightly. “I’m so sorry, hun. I spoke with the attending, and it seems the storm knocked out our phone lines. This old building has its quirks, but—well, there’s nothing we can do until the storm passes and a repairman gets out here.”

“So, no way to call out?” I asked, my heart sinking.

She shook her head apologetically. “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

Defeated, I sank deeper into the chair. If I couldn’t call for a tow truck, there was no way I’d make it back to the city for Sophia’s birthday tomorrow. We had plans to sneak into the movies and see how many we could watch before getting caught.

“No need to fret, dear.” Mrs. Abel’s voice was warm, her hand a gentle weight on my shoulder. The reassurance in her tone was soothing, almost maternal. “I’ll tell you what—why don’t we get you some dry clothes, a good meal to fill your belly, and a place to rest while the storm passes? In the morning, we’ll try the phones again, and if not, perhaps one of our handymen can accompany you to take a look at your truck. How does that sound?”

Her words washed over me like a blessing, easing the tightness in my chest. I hadn’t realized just how tense I’d been, the weight of the evening pressing on my shoulders. My throat tightened, and I blinked back a sudden rush of tears. It wasn’t just the offer of help—it was the kindness in her eyes, the way she spoke as if I truly mattered.

“That sounds wonderful! Thank you!” My voice cracked slightly with gratitude, and I managed a shaky smile.

Mrs. Abel beamed back at me, her expression glowing with warmth and satisfaction. She ushered me out of the sitting room, one hand on my back as if to gently guide me forward. As we reached the hallway, I hesitated, my steps faltering. The realization hit me like a gust of cold wind.

“I don’t have any money to pay you,” I said, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. My hands gripped the towel around my shoulders like a lifeline, the thought of imposing on their generosity making me cringe.

Mrs. Abel stopped, turning to face me fully. Her eyes softened, and her hand came to rest just above her heart, as though my concern had touched her deeply. “Oh, my dear, don’t you worry about that,” she said, her voice low and soothing, almost like a lullaby. “I’ve already spoken to Dr. Statford, and he understands the unfortunate situation you’re in. He’s instructed me to ensure you’re taken care of—no charge necessary.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to—”

“You’re not imposing,” she interrupted gently, her hand now lightly squeezing my arm. “You’ve had a rough evening, and the storm outside isn’t letting up anytime soon. Let us help you.”

The sincerity in her tone made my chest ache. I nodded, unable to find the right words to express my gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered, the words feeling too small for the kindness she was offering.

She smiled again, brighter this time, and gestured for me to follow her. As we walked down the hall, the faint scent of lavender and lemon polish lingered in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of thunder. The storm raged on outside, but within these walls, a strange sense of safety settled over me, wrapping around my heart like the towel around my shoulders.

Chapter TWO

I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Able had been so kind and generous, unlike most of the adults I’d encountered in my short twenty-two years. My life had been a patchwork of disappointment and survival since I was sixteen, with no guiding hands to offer help or love when I needed it most. Yet, since I’d burst through the doors of this strange place, I’d been met with nothing but warmth and care—a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and now, a private room with an en-suite bathroom.

“This is one of our transition rooms,” Mrs. Able explained as she moved efficiently through the space, her hands busy pulling towels from a cabinet. “We use them for members undergoing treatment, so they’re often available toward the end of the day.” She turned toward me with a decisive nod. “First things first: we need to get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up. I’ll draw a bath.”

Her tone left little room for argument. Before I could thank her again, she disappeared into the connected bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the air. The steady flow was oddly calming, blending with the muffled rumbles of thunder outside.

While she worked, I took the opportunity to survey the room. It was cozy but sophisticated, with soft cream walls and simple, elegant furnishings. A window on the far wall framed the chaos outside, the storm raging with ferocious intensity. Lightning illuminated the sky, revealing trees bending under the wind’s fury. For a moment, I wondered if the storm would ever stop. It had to, right? And when it did, I would leave—get back to Sophia. I had to.

“Come along, dear, before the water cools.” Mrs. Able’s voice cut through my thoughts. She stood in the bathroom doorway, her presence brisk yet reassuring. “I’ll give you a moment of privacy. Just leave your clothes here, and I’ll have them laundered.”

“You’ve already done so much,” I protested, clutching the damp towel tighter around me. “I’m sure they’ll dry overnight.”

Without hesitation, I peeled off my rain-soaked clothes, tossing them into a neat pile. The second I stepped into the tub, the water’s heat kissed my chilled skin, sending a delicious shiver up my spine. It stung at first, the warmth biting into the lingering cold, but as I sank deeper, the tension in my muscles began to melt away. The water was perfect—not too hot, not too cool, just an enveloping cocoon of comfort.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, I let myself relax. My mind drifted, wandering through the whirlwind of the past year: moving three times, each new place more uncertain than the last; the halfway home meant to help those transitioning out of the foster care system; losing two jobs—one due to budget cuts, the other a short-term holiday gig. Survival had been my only constant, scraping by paycheck to paycheck. Even when the money wasn’t coming in, I found ways to manage.

But through it all, the one thing that kept me going was my friends—my chosen family. Sophia was the brightest light among them. She’d always been there for me, no matter what, and tomorrow was her birthday. I had to get back to her. I couldn’t let her down. She was like a big sister, despite being a few years younger, always looking out for me in ways no one else ever had.

Enough time had passed that my core was pleasantly warm, the chill fully banished. I stepped out of the recessed tub, the marble cool against my feet, and reached for one of the oversized, fluffy pink towels. Wrapping it around myself, I reveled in its softness, tucking it securely around my slim frame. I couldn’t help but notice how easily it wrapped around me twice over—a stark reminder of how lean I’d become. Food hadn’t always been guaranteed in my life, and even though Sophia and I tried our best to eat balanced meals, the gaps in my past still showed.

When I turned back to where I’d left my clothes, I found them gone. In their place was a pastel pink robe, a matching sleeping gown, and a pair of white socks. My brows lifted slightly at the ensemble. No undergarments? Odd. I made a mental note to ask Mrs. Able about it later, though I wasn’t too concerned. I never slept with a bra on anyway.

The robe and gown were softer than I’d expected, the fabric hugging my skin with a comforting warmth. I slipped into them quickly, savoring the novelty of being both dry and cozy.

As if on cue, Mrs. Able reappeared, balancing a tray of food. She slid it onto the small table beside the bed, her eyes twinkling as she noticed I was dressed. “Oh good, everything fits, I presume?”

“Perfectly,” I said, though I wasn’t a fan of pink. The embroidery on the robe and gown—Statford’s Regression Clinic—caught my eye, but I chose not to comment.

“So, what kind of place is this?” I asked, settling onto the bed and tucking my legs beneath me. I picked up the tray, the aroma of warm soup and buttered bread making my stomach growl.

Mrs. Able’s smile didn’t waver. “We’re a unique facility, catering to those who want to relinquish control and live in a period of time where stress, anxiety, and responsibility don’t exist.”

“Wow.” My eyebrows arched in surprise. “That sounds… too wonderful to be true. And expensive.”

She chuckled softly, the sound as comforting as the food before me. “Not all of our clients pay. We offer a range of opportunities to experience our unorthodox regressive treatments.”

“Unorthodox regressive treatments?” I repeated, the phrase unfamiliar and strange on my tongue.

She nodded, her expression calm. “Our methods are unlike anything you’ll find elsewhere. Most of our clients stay for at least a month, sometimes longer, depending on their treatment plans. Their lives are forever changed by the process. That’s why we’re so sought after—the results speak for themselves.”

It was so strange, but I didn’t know enough about their line of work to make any sense of it. Instead, I took a bite of the homemade chicken noodle soup and practically melted where I sat. It was such a simple dish, yet it brimmed with hearty, satisfying flavors—the kind that made you feel instantly comforted.

“Mrs. Able,” I said between bites, barely pausing to breathe, “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I scooped up another heaping spoonful, savoring every drop.

“Easy there, little one,” she chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Not too fast. But I’m glad you like it. I’ll let our in-house chef, Mr. Suttner, know he knocked it out of the park.”

“Please do!” I exclaimed with enthusiasm before diving back in.

I finished the soup in record time, the warmth settling into my stomach and spreading through my entire body. After the soothing bath and the hearty meal, I felt like I could finally breathe again. The day’s events and the storm raging outside felt distant now, replaced by a heavy drowsiness. My eyelids drooped, and my posture relaxed as my body craved rest.

Mrs. Able, ever observant, seemed to notice. She picked up the empty tray, placed it just outside the room, and turned back to me with a soft smile. “Our lead night staff tonight is Nurse Nora,” she explained. “I’ve let her know you’re just occupying this room for the night, so she may pop in to check on you, but she won’t be making her usual rounds. However”—she gestured toward a small button on the wall near the bed—“if you need anything, you can press this, and she’ll come right away.”

I nodded, grateful for the reassurance.

She moved toward the windows, her movements calm and deliberate, and drew the curtains closed with a soft swish. “For your safety, we lock the doors at night,” she continued, pointing to the key card system by the door. “It’s an accountability measure to ensure we know where everyone is. Nurse Nora will be able to come and go, but you won’t. Don’t worry—the doors unlock automatically in the morning.”

My chest tightened at her words. It made sense, sort of, but the idea of being locked in unnerved me. I tried to convince myself it was just precautionary, but the pit in my stomach didn’t completely subside.

As my mind raced, I suddenly realized something was missing. I scanned the room, my heart skipping a beat. “My backpack? And my cellphone,” I blurted out, pushing the blankets off and starting to climb out of bed.

Mrs. Able stopped me with a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder. “Your backpack is hanging in the laundry room, drying. It was just as wet as your clothes, but its contents are safe, I promise.” Her voice was calm and steady, her eyes kind. “As for your phone, I couldn’t find a charger in your bag, so I brought it to the front desk and placed it on our cordless charging dock. Once it’s charged, I’ll have it brought up and set on the nightstand. How does that sound?”

The tension in my chest began to ease as her words sank in. Mrs. Able had thought of everything. “Thank you,” I murmured, sinking back into the bed. “I guess there’s no point in having a dead phone anyway, and it’s not like I could call out until the storm passes…”

“Exactly,” she said with a smile. “Now, why don’t you get some rest, sweetie? We’ll sort everything out in the morning.” She gave my shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before stepping toward the door.

I watched as she slipped out, the door clicking softly behind her. The keypad’s light shifted from green to red, emitting a soft beep that signaled it was locked. The sound felt final, but oddly, it also gave me a sense of security. Mrs. Able’s care had eased most of my worries, leaving only the rhythmic drumming of the rain outside to fill the room.

I shifted under the blankets, turning onto my side. The rain’s steady cadence lulled me closer to sleep, my body sinking into the plush mattress. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber almost instantly.

At some point during the night, a faint memory stirred—a soft knock at the door, a kind voice speaking my name. I barely registered Nurse Nora’s presence as she murmured something to me. Whatever she said slipped through my consciousness like a wisp of smoke, and I drifted back into the warm, inescapable pull of sleep.

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[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 20 - Home

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 3.1K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: Explicit smut [M/F, oral (fem receiving), P in V sex]

Read on AO3 or read below

20. HOME

Alec held my hand in his as we drove through the gates of Volterra, towards the rolling Italian countryside that surrounded the small city.

We were going to look at a couple nearby villas that Heidi had scouted for us. We had explained to her what we wanted in a home and she had compiled a list of ten villas for us to look at. Both of the villas we were looking at today were close to Volterra and fairly secluded, as they each came with a big estate that would not allow any humans to see or hear us from the boundaries of the property. Heidi had arranged for us to tour each property without a realtor and she had given us the keys yesterday.

We pulled up to the large, wrought iron gate that belonged to the first property we were touring. Alec quickly got out of the white Lamborghini he was driving to unlock the gate and push it open. He returned to the car and drove us up the long, smooth driveway.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” I breathed when the villa finally came into view.

The two-story, Renaissance era villa was made of a light beige colored stone and roofed with red terracotta tiles. There was a separate, smaller, one-story building that seemed to be a garage a bit further down the driveway. The grounds that surrounded the house consisted of a neatly trimmed lawn and, beyond that, lots of trees that would provide us even more privacy.

Alec parked the car in front of the villa and we got out. We walked towards the large, double doors of the front entrance. Alec unlocked them and pushed the door open, gesturing for me to enter the villa first.

The interior of the villa was mostly modern, though it was clear that whomever had updated the villa had tried their best to keep the original walls and architecture — old wooden beams crossed along the ceilings, the walls were a cream-colored stucco, and the floors were made of a dark grey, polished stone.

The foyer that we had stepped into allowed us to see up to the second story, which was lined with a wrought-iron railing that also lined the staircases on either side of the mezzanine.

“It really is beautiful,” Alec murmured softly as we moved to the living room, which was to the left of the foyer.

Bright sunlight poured into the room from the tall arched windows that stretched almost the entire height of the walls. The room was decorated with modern, light-grey, plush couches, a matching armchair, and a large oak coffee table. A stone fireplace was on one of the interior walls, with beautiful, Renaissance paintings hanging on either side of it. An ornate, iron chandelier hung from the ceiling.

“There’s so much light.”

I stepped into one of the sun spots. Thousands of tiny rainbows scattered across the walls and floor of the room from my crystalline skin.

Alec wrapped his arms around my waist. “I wish we never had to hide. . . . I wish I could show you the world without having to hide under clouds or in the middle of the night.”

I leaned back into him and replied softly, “I don’t care how I see the world — in sunlight or darkness. As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be perfectly happy.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re adorable and incredibly sweet.”

We stood there for a few more moments, simply soaking up the sun and each other’s love. Finally, we broke apart and began to tour the other rooms.

The room that led off from the other side of the foyer was a library the size of the living room. Every wall was lined with expensive, dark oak bookshelves that were currently empty. The plush carpet that covered the floor was a light grey that matched the curtains that hung over the tall, arched windows. Two very comfortable-looking, brown, leather armchairs sat in front of the windows with a small side table placed between them.

There were two more rooms on the first floor. One was an office that had a single wall lined with bookshelves, and a beautiful view to the grounds behind the house.

The other room was a large bedroom that had an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in closet that was nearly double the size of the one we had at the castle. The floor of the bedroom was made of the same dark stone as most of the villa. A king-sized bed was pushed up against one of the walls, beneath a large, horizontal window. A single glass door led out to the back of the patio.

We stepped through the door onto the patio. A large pergola covered the patio, its wooden beams wrapped in fragrant honeysuckle that kept the area well shaded. Two cream-colored couches that were meant to be out in the mild Italian weather were arranged in an L-shape around a white marble table. The tiled patio extended beyond the pergola and surrounded a large, rectangular pool.

“Mm, that pool would definitely get a lot of use,” I commented, throwing a smirk over my shoulder at Alec.

“Oh, is that so?” he replied, a smirk curling on his own lips as he approached me. Alec set his hands on my hips and pulled me back against his chest.

“Mhm,” I hummed and leaned into his touch. I enjoyed teasing him. “I mean, I doubt either of us will be able to keep our hands off each other when all we’re wearing is a swimsuit . . . or nothing at all.”

“Fuck.” Alec’s grip on my hips tightened. I could feel him start to harden as he pressed closer to me.

I giggled as I stepped out of his grasp, leaving him groaning. I turned and walked backwards towards the house.

“Come on, love. We’ve still got the second floor to see.”

Alec rolled his eyes, though he followed me back into the house. I reached out and snagged his hand in mine. He linked our fingers together and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

There were three rooms on the second floor. Two of them were bedrooms that looked nearly identical to each other, with tall, arched windows and glass doors that led out to the balcony they shared. There was a shared bathroom between the bedrooms.

The third room was a home theater. A large projection screen covered one of the walls, and two rows of couches were lined in front of it, the second row about half a foot higher than the front row.

Alec leaned close to whisper in my ear, “We could put a bed in here. . . . Could cuddle together while we watch a movie or something. . . .”

“I’m sure cuddling would be all we would be doing,” I replied sarcastically. Alec nipped my shoulder teasingly and I laughed.

“We could turn the two extra bedrooms into something other than bedrooms,” he suggested.

“Like what?”

“Whatever we want. A game room, another library, an art studio.”

I leaned into his side and said softly, “I think I’d like an art studio.”

He hummed and pressed another kiss to my cheek. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

“You’re so sweet to me,” I said, turning to face him. Alec grinned and held me closer to his chest when I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I don’t want to look at the other house. I want this one.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

“Are you sure? It’s your house, too.”

Alec chuckled. “You forget how long I’ve been alive, love. They’ll all look mostly the same to me. As long as you’re happy with the house, that’s all I care about.”

I stood on my toes to kiss him fiercely. Alec laughed when we broke apart. He gently brushed my hair behind my ear and stared down at me with a soft smile. There was so much love in his gaze that it sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

“I’ll tell Heidi to tell the realtor that we want this one,” he said. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to close within the next couple weeks and then it will be all ours.”

“We’ll finally have somewhere to escape to whenever we want to be all alone.”

“Our escape from the real world,” he said with a smile.

I kissed him one more time before we finally headed back down the stairs and out of the house.

I sat lightly on the hood of the Lamborghini as I watched Alec lock the house back up. I leaned back, pressing my hands against the warm metal when Alec turned around. I smirked when I saw him pause in his step for a moment when he saw me. I watched his crimson eyes drag along my body before he looked up again.

He walked slowly towards me and, when he reached me, gently pushed my legs apart so he could stand between them. Alec leaned down over me, his lips barely brushing mine as he breathed, “If I remember correctly, I promised to make up for our interruption yesterday.”

“You did,” I said.

My eyes flicked up to meet his. I could still see the unconditional love in his ruby irises, but it was quickly becoming clouded with lust.

Alec pressed his lips to mine and my eyes fluttered shut. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand drifting up to card through his curly hair. Alec leaned down over me, forcing me to lay back on the hood of the car.

One of his hands trailed down my side until he reached the hem of my white sundress, which he hurriedly pulled up so it was bunched around my waist. He groaned when his hand slipped between my thighs.

“No panties, princess?” he breathed against my mouth. He circled his fingers lightly around my clit and my breath hitched in my throat. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

“It’s been too long,” I replied, tugging at his hair. “I’ve missed you, Alec.”

He hummed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I know, princess, I know. I’ve missed you, too.”

My mate trailed kisses along my cheeks and down my neck. When he reached the neckline of my dress, he gently slid the straps down my arms and pulled the dress down below my breasts. His mouth traveled across my chest and I moaned when he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples. My fingers tightened in his hair as he teased the sensitive bud with his teeth. His hand had wandered back between my thighs and he gently rubbed my clit again.

“Alec,” I whimpered. “Please.”

He laughed against my chest. “Easy, sweetheart. I just wanna take my time with you. . . . You deserve to be savored, Eve.”

Alec ran his tongue slowly up through the valley between my breasts. I shuddered at the feeling, arching my back. Alec’s fingers slipped away from my clit to gently press into me as he sucked a hickey onto my neck.

“Oh,” I gasped.

My hand slipped down to grasp the hair at the back of his neck. Alec groaned against my throat as I tugged at his hair. He moved his mouth up to my jaw and kissed my lips again. Eventually, my lips parted and his tongue pushed into my mouth. Our tongues slid together slowly, our makeout languid and lazy. I had to admit that Alec had a point — it was so much better to savor the moment than rushing through it.

Smoldering fire trailed everywhere that his skin touched mine. I could feel the reverence and affection he had for me in every touch, in every kiss. I hoped that he felt just as loved as I did at this moment.

“My sweet girl. . . .” Alec bit my lip gently. “Stay just like this for me. Don’t move.”

I nodded and he kissed me one more time before he made his way back down my neck. I groaned, tilting my head back against the hood of the car. I felt Alec smile against my skin as he continued to kiss a path down my chest and stomach.

He pushed my dress up again as he knelt on the ground, between my legs. He brushed his lips lightly across my inner thighs, still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of me. Alec scraped his teeth gently against the sensitive skin of my thigh. My breath caught in my throat as my stomach fluttered with pleasure.

Finally, Alec ran his tongue through my soaked folds. A breathless gasp left my mouth and I arched my back as he locked his lips around my clit, gently sucking on the small bundle of nerves.

‘You taste heavenly, princess. Absolutely divine.’

A shiver ran through my body as Alec’s words echoed through my mind. I sucked in a breath and let it out shakily as he ate me out, using his skilled mouth and fingers to bring me closer and closer to the edge. I moaned out his name and reached down to tangle my hand in his hair once again. He groaned against my pussy.

‘Close, princess?’ he asked in my mind when my moans picked up and I began moving my hips into his movements.

“Yes,” I breathed.

‘Cum for me, then, sweet girl.’

Alec curled his fingers inside of me and I finally fell off the edge. I gasped as my back arched again and my pussy fluttered around his fingers. He groaned, nuzzling against the inside of my thigh. My entire body tingled warmly as my orgasm ran through me.

When I finally started to come down from my high, I noticed that Alec was pressing soft, feathery kisses to my thigh. He slowly pulled his fingers out of me and I whined softly at the loss. He rested his head against my thigh and smiled at me.

“Ready for me, love?”

“Mhm,” I hummed. “C’mere and kiss me.”

Alec laughed softly and pulled off his shirt as he stood again. Then, he leaned down over my body to press his lips to mine. I lazily wrapped my arms around him and pressed my tongue into his mouth. I moaned when I tasted myself on his tongue.

He reached between our bodies and shoved down his jeans and boxers. He grasped himself in his hand and moved so that the tip of his cock was just resting between my slick folds. I shivered as anticipation built in my stomach.

Alec finally thrusted slowly into me. We both moaned, our kiss breaking as he dropped his head into the crook of my neck as he bottomed out inside me. I curled my arms around him tightly. I loved feeling his body on top of mine and his cock inside of me. 

‘You feel so good wrapped around me, princess.’

I groaned. I dragged my nails across his back as he began to slowly thrust into me. Alec brushed his lips against my neck, right over the silvery, scarred bite mark that remained from my transformation. A soft moan fell from my lips. He knew that spot was particularly sensitive for me.

“My perfect, sweet girl,” he murmured against my skin. Alec rubbed his hand along my thigh, gently gripping it and moving my leg so that my knee hooked on his hip, which allowed him to thrust even deeper.

I groaned and tipped my head back against the car. “Fuck.”

Alec huffed out a strained laugh against my shoulder and nipped at my skin. “Tell me how good you feel, love.”

“Feels so good, Alec,” I whispered. “Perfect. . . . You’re perfect. . . . I love you.”

Alec groaned and kissed me fiercely. His gentle grip on my thigh tightened as he fucked me harder and shoved his tongue in my mouth. I gasped into the passionate kiss and scratched my nails across his back.

A few moments later, I came for the second time. My back arched up, my head tipped back, and I clung tight to Alec as wave after wave of intense pleasure flooded my body.

Alec followed me quickly off the edge, moaning as he thrust as deep as he could. His hips stuttered slightly and his cock twitched as he filled me with his seed.

I watched him with half-open eyes, slowly and lightly dragging my nails along his bare sides. He shivered at my touch before he looked at me. He kissed me again, this time all soft and sweet, before he rested his body on top of mine. I giggled quietly and reached up to brush my fingers through his messy curls.

“Well, I think I made up for our interruption the other day,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “You certainly did.”

I lifted my head up slightly to press a kiss to his forehead. Alec hummed quietly. His eyes fluttered shut as he rested his head on my chest. I laid my head back on the hood and closed my eyes, continuing to card my fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much, Eve,” he whispered. “So beautiful and smart and sweet and perfect.”

My heart swelled with love and I said softly, “I love you more than anything, Alec.”

Alec rested his hand on my side, his thumb just below the curve of my breast. He slowly swiped his thumb along the soft skin on the underside of my breast and I moaned lightly.

This was one of the few private moments that I wished time slowed down so we could remain in our own little world for just a while longer. We were entirely alone and basking in the afterglow of amazing, passionate sex and soaking up all the affection and love we had for each other.

A few more minutes passed before Alec sighed and reluctantly said, “We should head back to the castle.”

I frowned, but nodded in agreement. He carefully lifted himself off of me, but before he fully stood up, he bent his head down to kiss me. I smiled when he finally pulled away and Alec laughed.

He pulled his clothes back on, then offered me his hand to help me sit up. I let him pull me up and he kissed my forehead, his hand caressing my cheek lovingly.

My smile grew even bigger when he began to fix my sundress for me. He gently pulled the dress back over my breasts and slid the straps up onto my shoulders again. He pulled down the fabric that had been bunched up around my waist, smoothing his hands over it to ensure that it all fell back into place. He even knelt down and strapped my heels back onto my feet. Alec pressed a gentle kiss to my knee before he stood up again.

“Ready, my love?”

“One more kiss and I will be,” I replied with a teasing grin. Alec smirked and rolled his eyes, then kissed me again. When we broke apart, I said, “Let’s go.”

[kaunis-sielu]

Frozen: A Slumber party

It’s Friday night and the guys have this weekend off for the first time in what feels like forever. The season isn’t particularly long but it is crammed full of games. You’re hanging out alone in your apartment, the Avengers have an away game, reading a book when your phone rings. You pick it up blindly and answer,

“Hello?”

“Kattenuge, can you come to my house?” This gets your attention and you close your book.

“What?”

“There’s been an injury and I just need some help.” He sounds tense and if you listen carefully you swear you can hear someone crying in the background.

“Yea, I’m coming.” You tell him climbing off the couch. “What happened?”

“Can I tell you when you get here? The gate code is 0929.”

“Okay.” You trust him and you trust that he wouldn’t just try to get you to come to his house using some gross ploy that someone was hurt.

It’s snowing when you get to his house, you punch in the code he’d told you and pull slowly up the driveway. If it wasn’t for the gate at the front you wouldn’t have ever known someone famous lived here. It’s a cute white stucco house with big windows and a curving driveway that goes behind the house. You follow the driveway and park to the side, Thor is waiting on the lower porch and after you grab your medical bag you climb out of the car.

“Thank you for coming Moxie.”

“Wow, something must really be wrong if you’re using my normal nickname.” You tell him lightly, he looks so stressed that you need to try and calm him somehow.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, I trust you and she fell and hit her head and I can’t just take her to the ER. I mean I can but if I have another option I’d rather do that.” He’s rambling so you put a gentle hand on his arm,

“Let’s go.” He’d said she, if you walk in on a naked woman you might actually be sick. Thor takes your hand, hope his lover doesn’t mind, and you follow him into the house closing the door behind you.

You hear the wailing before you see her. But you round a corner and Thor scoops the little blonde girl off of the giant bed she’s sitting on in a room that’s absolutely his.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry, you’re okay.” He soothes, “This is papa’s friend Moxie she’s here to help.” She blinks up at you, tears falling down her cheeks. “Moxie, this is my daughter, Astrid.” She has a big bandage wrapped around her head and you can see some pink at the edge, damn head wounds bleed forever.

“Hi Astrid, I’m going to unwrap your owie so that I can get a look at it okay? It might bleed some more but that’s okay.” You tell her, but it’s for both her and Thor’s benefit. He did a pretty good job wrapping it, when you get to her forehead you find the inch and a half long cut just above her right eyebrow. It’s thankfully not very deep so you won’t need to do stitches.

“Oh good,” you murmur more to yourself than either of them.

“What?”

“No stitches, we should be able to butterfly it and then cover it with a bigger bandaid.” You tell them both, you clean the cut as gently as you can, Astrid only flinches once.

“Sorry Honey. I know it’s cold.” You tell her, as she bats those watery eyes at you. God she’s adorable. When you finish Thor presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“You did so good A.” He soothes and she buries her face in his chest. “How about some ice cream? Moxie can stay for some?”

“That’s not necessary.” You tell him but when he looks up at you from the bed with pleading eyes you realize maybe he just needs someone to stay.

“What happened?”

“She fell off her chair at the table.”

“Do you need me to clean that up?” You ask glancing into her eyes to make sure she’s not showing any signs of concussion.

“No, I can get it.”

“Thor, you have a very brave girl to take care of and get some ice cream for. Let me help.” You tell him gently and after a moment he nods. You pack everything up and follow him into the kitchen where he pulls out some ice cream for Astrid. She’s watching you with big eyes and when you give her a soft smile she gives you a little one back.

You clean up the small bit of blood then put everything into a biohazard bag then into a second bag to throw away later.

“Kattenuge, ice cream.” Thor says and you put the bag into your bag.

“I need to wash my hands first.” You tell him and he gestures to the sink behind him. It’s weird to be in his home, with him, and his daughter. The painted toenails make more sense now, when you finish drying your hands you join Thor and Astrid at the counter. She’s chatting away now that she’s not bleeding and has some ice cream in her belly.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. It wasn’t the call I was expecting but I’m glad I could help.” You take a scoop of your ice cream and Thor smiles softly over at you.

“I don’t tell people because I want her to have as normal a childhood as I can.”

“What about kids day?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“If she keeps a helmet on? Or do you have to run it by-”

“I have full custody.”

“How?”

“My mother lives here when we’re gone.”

“Papa?”

“Yea, Kanin?”

“Can Moxie sleep over? We can watch a movie and I bet Moxie likes movies. Do you like movies?”

“I do, but I don’t have anything for a sleepover.”

“Just one movie then?” She pleads and you glance over at Thor who nods.

“One movie, but it’s gotta be a good one.” You tease her and Astrid nods solemnly, you can’t help but adore the little girl who is happily eating her ice cream. When Thor looks over at you he’s got a soft smile on his face you feel like you’ve passed a test or something. Thor rests his hand on the small of your back and for a moment it’s almost like you’re this sweet little family.

“You okay Kattenuge?”

“Yea. I should go.” You don’t know which of them gives you better puppy eyes, Thor or Astrid.

“But Moxie you said you would watch a movie! I was gonna pick a good one.” Astrid says, “Papa!”

“That was the agreement.” Thor agrees and damn it, damn these two blue eyed blondes. You sigh softly,

“You’re right. I’ll stay.”

“Yay!” Astrid cries climbing off of the stool and running out of the room.

“Are you angry with me?” Thor asks softly and you look up him in surprise.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“For keeping her a secret. I know we’re kind of a thing, or we’ve gone on some dates and I want us to be something.”

“I respect your desire for privacy. If I had a child and I was in your position I don’t think I’d tell anyone either. Especially not this early.” You see him visibly relax, “I just kinda panicked. I don’t know.” You can’t tell him that you imagined the three of you as a cute little family. That this was your home. It’s way too early for that.

“Come on Moxie!” Astrid calls and you chuckle, “I got us the best blankets. Papa can use the little one.” She says from the edge of the kitchen floor.

“Oh Papa has the little one huh?” Thor says and Astrid giggles and runs back into the living room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share.” You tell him taking his hand,

“Thank you Kattenuge.” He murmurs pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. You join Astrid on the couch and Thor sits on the other side of you. She falls asleep against your side halfway through the movie, when it’s over Thor scoops her up and brings her to her room.

“Don’t leave.” He whispers over his shoulder at you, you won’t lie and say you weren’t going to slip out. You do grab your bag and wait for him by the door you’d come in.

“Kattenuge, I’m going to think you don’t want to spend any time with me.”

“It’s not that, I just don’t love driving home in the snow. When I was a kid we got into an accident because of the snow.”

“I can call you a car if you’d rather.” He offers putting a gentle hand on your arm.

“I’ll just take it slow.”

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asks sweetly and you nod before tugging your shoes on. When he unlocks and pulls open the door you’re floored by what’s in front of you. There’s got to be at least six inches of snow already on the ground and your heart plummets.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Thor says softly and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Astrid has already met you, she liked you, I like you. It’s safe here.”

“You don’t think it’s a bit early for me to be staying over?”

“Just sleep Kattenuge.” He soothes, “You can sleep in the guest room where my mother usually stays if that makes you more comfortable.” You bite your lower lip and glance back out at the still falling snow.

“Do you have some stuff I can borrow?” Thor gives you a slow smile and nods, he offers you his hand and you follow him back into his room for the second time that night. He digs some clothes out of his dresser, a tee and some shorts, then passes them to you. You’re fairly certain you’ve seen him wear this shirt before.

“You’re sure this isn’t too fast?” You ask him, “you just got divorced.”

“Kattenuge,” he soothes, “I appreciate the concern but my marriage to Sif was over the moment she decided to be unfaithful. Astrid doesn’t even remember a time when we all lived together. But, if you’re uncomfortable I can call you a car, it won’t hurt my feelings.” You’re not sure what comes over you but you suddenly find yourself kissing him, one arm curled around his neck. Thor wraps one of his arms tightly around your waist so you’re flush against him while his other hand comes up to cup your face. When you pull away from him you’re both breathing a little hard,

“Thank you.” He says and you laugh, he’d completely put you at ease something you were more than a little grateful for.

“I just, you’re so sweet.” You tell him and he smiles down at you. “Thank you for not pressuring me.”

“Of course Kattenuge.” He presses another quick kiss to your lips, “Now, let’s go to bed.”

🏒🏒🏒

This is a series of one shots. If you have any suggestions or ideas for Thor and Moxie please let me know.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @killcomet @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[bike42]

Wednesday January 8, 2025

Slept in today instead of meditation and yoga. While I can stretch out my muscles anytime, when I got to the cacophony of breakfast I realized I really missed the tranquility of my morning meditation!

Same drill as yesterday, but this morning our delay was waiting for the avocados - a necessity for lunch!!

Most of us continued with laying block today, a few others moved to applying stucco to the out side wall (by leaning over the stack of 4 blocks that make up the wall). I felt better about my technique today and did a few blocks on my own. Just before lunch, they take two volunteers to make up the guacamole for lunch - I took a turn today. I was surprised that we didn’t cut the avocados - just squeezed them and popped them open. They were so yummy and fresh - best guacamole I’ve ever had (and I’m not just saying that because I made it)!

We took a longer lunch break today as Daniel told us it’s Guatemalan law that the workers take an hour break. Ok with us, and after my sandwich and guac, I took a nap in the sun. It’s was very windy in the morning, which actually made it feel a little cooler (and we were wind blown and felt dustier than the other days). The wind died down after lunch and it became warm again. After lunch I got out my Bluetooth speaker and we had tunes (when the jackhammer and drill weren’t running). Always perks up my mood to have music.

The end of the day came fast, and we cleaned up and inventoried the tools and loaded the buses. I had a quick nap on the drive back, then a well deserved shower and some rest time before dinner.

After dinner, they take two majority of us headed into town (Panajachel). Dave was nice to arrange for 4 Tuk-tuks to pick us up. We were standing outside when they arrived - a little light parade. A ride to town costs 10Q each, which is just over a dollar. They dropped us off at Dina’s Chocolates, which unfortunately was closed. Jeff and I walked with Chris to the leather shop, then we met the others at the Atlantis for drinks (and we split a Nutella crepe). Then we flagged down several Tuk-tuks for the quick ride back to the River House.

Thursday January 9, 2025

Normal morning routine, up at 6am for meditation and yoga. Breakfast was amazing today - French Toast stuffed with cream cheese and berries. My work clothes are so crusty and gross that I stayed in my yoga clothes and changed just before we left for the job site.

Jeff and I worked with Michelle & Chris to finish off laying the brick on the stand-alone wall. Day four, we’ve finally got the hang of it. Another group did stucco on the backside of the back wall, and others worked on putting rebar along the new walls - the next mission group will build forms and pour cement, and then more brick will be laid on top of that. It’ll be awhile before the project is complete!

Clay brought along a basketball from the River House and after lunch, the guys played 5 on 5 against our Guatemalan work team. The Americans had a major height advantage, but Guatemalan guys were much younger, faster and scrappy. In the end, height won out but if the game had lasted any longer the younger guys would have outlasted them! It was fun to watch and the players looked like they were having a great time.

After lunch, they tried to teach us to tie the rebar, but it was more difficult than it looked! I realized the gang that had been doing it this morning hadn’t made much progress either. Then it was time to cleanup, and say good bye and appreciate the work we did over the last four days - felt great!

We headed back to the Mission Guatemala clinic for presentations about their nutritional and scholarship programs. They originally secured a 10-year lease for the clinic property, which expired in 2020, and they bought the property then. Dave pointed out how much space they have, more than they needed initially but they’ve grown into it and have plans to expand eventually.

Dave introduced us to Debra, who has been with MG since the beginning of the organization. In those days, the clinic was open two days a week and she’d record the details of each visit and work closely with the doctor. She now oversees the scholarship program, which benefits students from the greater San Andreas area. The program focuses on families with reduced resources, and without support, the students wouldn’t be able to continue on to Middle School and High School. Most local residents work in construction or agriculture without a steady income. Scholarships cover from 7th through High School, when students being to study for a particular career path. School will start in February and run for 10 months. They’re just finalizing the numbers for this year, but it looks like 63 students for MS (8 different schools) and 29 for HS this year.

When the program began, the focus of the program was covering tuition. It has expanded now to include uniforms, books, access to the clinic, and workshops for the students (art, study skills, tutoring, time management, issues like bullying and internet addiction). In many cases, the parents haven’t completed school beyond elementary (if that), so MG has realized they need to support students in a more wholistic manner than they first realized.

Cost for each student:

MS $25/month

HS $50/month

Nutritional Program

Next, we met Meliá, who has worked with MG since 2012. She had participated in a program where she went to the US to study and that’s where she learned English. She had an enthusiastic energy - how wonderful to have her in this role!

More than 50% of Guatemala children are malnourished, but not “starving” the way the word makes it sound. Impact is mostly seen as stunted growth when children don’t get enough fruit, vegetables and protein in their early years. Many also suffer from iron deficiency anemia. Studies on children from families where some were adopted and raised in the US demonstrate the difference nutrition can make in development.

There are currently 135 kids in MG’s program, from 6 months to 6 years old. They work in 6 rural communities and host a program at the clinic. Each month they meet, they weigh and measure the kids, deliver supplies (supplements and vitamins) and work on education for the mothers. The cost is free for families, may be additional charge for lab tests.

She told us a story about a girl with a medical condition that she would have died from. The family doesn’t speak Spanish and needs to walk an hour to get to the closest road to get a ride to the clinic. It really hit home with us the way MG gains trust with the families in need - such wonderful work!

Dave told us they’re also doing some vocational work at the clinic site. In

2015, they built a “Computer Lab” where students receive the education that is required in Middle School. Local schools were doing a bad job of it, so they built this lab for school students, with plans to expand it to adult education. Computers are 10 years old, and they have a donor helping to replace them this spring.

We had a quick tour of the clinic itself, one room for exams, another for treatments. There was a room with shelves and that was the pharmacy (stocked with lots of Costco vitamins), and an office area with paper patient files (another group is working to automate that). I was especially interested in their little closet of a laboratory that appeared to have an automated hematology and chemistry analyzer.

By then it was late - we arrived back at the River House at 5:30pm and took quick showers before dinner. This was the last group dinner for JT and me as they’ve arranged for transport back to Guatemala City for us tomorrow afternoon, as we have an early flight Saturday morning.

[acleanpressurecleaning]

The Importance of House Washing

Just like your car, a dirty home requires cleaning. Having your house regularly cleaned will help prevent mildew and mold from building up.

Organizing can make your cleaning job much easier and faster. Start by creating a dedicated station for your cleaning supplies. This will save you time and money.

Cleaning the Exterior

The outside of a House Washing can collect dirt, mildew and mold. These can damage the cladding and cause it to degrade over time. Washing the exterior of your home regularly helps prevent this and keep it looking fresh.

 A good rule of thumb is to wash the exterior of your home at least once a year. This will remove any dirt build-up and help halt any organic growth. Washing your house is especially important if you plan on painting it as a fresh coat of paint will not adhere well to a dirty surface.

Before attempting to pressure wash your house, you must ensure that you have the right equipment and knowledge to do so safely. Pressure washing can cause a lot of damage if not done properly, including damage to windows, doors and landscaping. It is also recommended that you test your water pressure on an inconspicuous area of cladding before applying it to the entire surface.

Cleaning the Gutters

Gutters are important for directing rainwater away from the roof, House Washing Services and foundation. But when they become clogged with leaves, debris and mud, water can overflow and cause problems. That’s why it’s important to clean them regularly.

A good gutter cleaning solution is white vinegar or cream of tartar mixed with water. Scrub the solution onto the gutters and rinse. This is an effective way to break up grime and stains.

Alternatively, a pressure washer can remove stubborn stains from a home’s gutters. A high-powered nozzle and proper safety precautions are key to avoid damage to the roof shingles, siding or landscaping. If you prefer not to teeter on a ladder, there are gutter-cleaning attachments for pressure washers that allow you to keep both feet on the ground. If you choose this method, be sure to protect your eyes and wear sturdy work gloves. Also, have a bucket nearby to deposit debris. You should also consider adding gutter guards to prevent re-clogging.

Cleaning the Roof

The roof is another area where a house wash is very important. If the buildup of mold, lichen, and/or moss is not cleaned on a regular basis it can cause damage to the shingles. This can lead to leaks in the home and/or ceilings. It can also create a shelter for rodents to nest in and cause further problems. In addition, a dirty roof can be an eyesore and reduce the value of your home.

Soft washing is the process of cleaning a roof using low pressure, a biodegradable chemical and a high volume of water to remove stains, dirt, moss, and algae. This is done to protect the shingles from damage caused by a pressure washer.

When a soft wash is performed, the crew will often cover or water any plants near the building to prevent them from being contaminated or damaged by bleach or other chemicals used in the cleaning solution. The crew will also take care to ensure that no debris is left behind in gutters or plant beds.

Cleaning the Interior

Even if you regularly sweep, mop and dust your home, there's still gunk that can build up. The right cleaning solutions, scrubbing by hand, and a good pressure wash can help you achieve a clean as a whistle house once again.

The first consideration when washing a house is the surface material; Hardie siding, brick, vinyl or Stucco will dictate the algaecide detergent strength and mix ratio used. Generally, smooth surfaces use a weaker solution while porous materials such as brick and stone will typically utilize a hotter, higher concentration of up to 3% sodium hypochlorite with longer dwell times.

If you're planning to hire a professional, make sure they follow all the CDC's guidelines for pressure washer safety and use the proper equipment to avoid injury and damage to your home. It's also a good idea to clear the surrounding area of toys and bikes to avoid kids and pets tripping on them during the pressure wash.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

he beams of sunlight shining through definitely give off hopeful/happy vibes but on the other hand, from only a two second video it's clear that you could literally cut through the tension with a knife. So I don't know what to think. I'm trying to stay calm and natural about it all since it's been a very tumultuous few days. Thoughts/predictions on what's happening?

Side note- this doesn't seem to be set in Hopper's cabin, but it does seem to be a Vol2 scene (rather than a deleted/reworked Vol1 scene). As far as I'm aware, his cabin had tall green and wood-plank walls, brown wood-plank floors, and rather drab furniture. It never had grey floors, orange cushions, nor a cream-painted or stucco half-wall with a stripe of orange on top. However, I don't believe the Lenora house had any of those elements on the interior (as far as we've seen), so I think it's safe to say that it's a Vol2 scene. Probably set in a desert/southwestern motel. Thoughts?

We can't really get a good enough look at their surroundings to know where they are. The messy state of the room does support it being Hopper's cabin, though. Keep in mind that it was thoroughly wrecked by the monster last season, and it's probably been unoccupied for nearly a year. That couch they're sitting on isn't anything I recognize. It looks like a two-seater, but it doesn't even appear to have any arms.

As for how they handle this scene, I think it could go any number of ways, really. It very much depends on when and where it takes place, too. If it doesn't go well, then I fully expect it to lead into Will's trance, if the scene isn't already partially the trance itself. If Mike were to brutally reject Will, then I expect them to suddenly cut to another Mike frantically shaking another Will while calling his name. In any other bad outcome, it would probably leave Will vulnerable to a trance later on.

[junghelioseok]

untitled. | jjk

↳ aka, i’m in my feelings about a 23yo again but what else is new.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | established relationship ◇ 1.0k [1/1]

notes: i wrote this on my phone as soon as i woke up this morning and it was littered with typos and unformatted as all shit so i’m gonna need u to reblog this one please thanks!!!

warnings: domestic soft lazy sex, cockwarming, jungoo is a big softie and so am i 🥺

“Good morning, baby.”

It starts slow, just as it always does. A whispered greeting and the lazy slide of a hand along the curve of your waist, trailing from your hip all the way to the swell of your cheek where he settles to pull your mouth against his.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes against your lips, and you know he believes it with the entirety of his big, mushy heart. You couldn’t feel (and look, for that matter) more like a bedraggled rat in the morning, with your eyes crusty and your cheek stippled by a wrinkle in the pillowcase. But Jungkook strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and plants kisses on both of your eyelids, and you sigh, curling into his familiar, comforting warmth.

Ever so slowly, his kisses move southward. Jungkook trails them down and across your lips, before descending to the column of your throat and the soft spot on your clavicle. Against your thigh, his cock stiffens, and you sigh out his name when he maneuvers you atop him and settles your legs on either side of his strong thighs.

“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes, and that’s all it takes. A little lube from the bottle in the nightstand and he’s breaching your walls, the stretch just as familiar and warm as everything else about him.

“Love you,” you murmur as he rolls his hips gently, his eyes crinkling into a boyish, toothy grin as he buries himself deeper.

“Love you more,” he murmurs back, and you keen out his name when his fingers curl around your hips to keep you against him as he ruts up into your slickening cunt. It’s slow and lazy and intimate, and it’s made even more so when he spills into you and remains there, your name escaping his lips in a raspy groan as he falls limp on your shared mattress.

“I should get up and pee,” you tell him softly, when he makes no move to let you out of his ironclad grip. “Jungkook, I really—“

“You know, I started looking at rings last year.”

Jungkook says this softly, casually, as if remarking on the weather. The sky is blue, there’s a 10% chance of snow in the afternoon, and oh, I’ve been thinking about marrying you for three hundred and sixty-five days now. You want eggs for breakfast?

“Jewelry stores, online boutiques—it took months. Ring shopping is no joke. There are so many options, and cuts, and styles...” He sighs. “I didn’t know where to start.”

You’re staring at him now. There’s a crick in your neck from the way it’s uncomfortably craned, but you don’t look away. “Jungkook—“ you breathe, and you don’t know what else to say after that. Your boyfriend—soon to be fiancé?—is gazing thoughtfully up at the white stucco ceiling, the beginnings of stubble dusting his jaw like a shadow.

“But six months ago, I finally found it. The perfect ring. I’ve been keeping it in my sock drawer—“ he chuckles, “—since you never go in there and I do all the laundry, anyways.”

“Jungkook.” Your voice is stronger this time, but still hazy with disbelief and breathy with awe. Your heart feels like it’s about to pound straight through the prison of your ribcage and out into the open air, free as an uncaged bird.

He doesn’t hear you—or even if he does, he doesn’t stop. “I started carrying it around with me three months ago,” he murmurs dreamily, still addressing the ceiling with a flush beginning to creep up his cheeks. “I almost did it last month, y’know, when we were at the diner. You were wearing that yellow sweater, and you had whipped cream on your nose. And I just had this thought, like, wow, that’s my wife. I’m gonna marry her.”

“Jeon Jungkook, you are not proposing to me when your flaccid dick is inside my pussy,” you finally say when he starts reaching for the drawer of his nightstand, and Jungkook blinks, coming out of his daze at last.

“I’m not?”

You don’t know whether to laugh or groan, so you do both, the two combining into a weird little huff of air that sends a wispy tendril of his hair across his forehead. “No, you’re not,” you murmur, brushing it away and tucking it behind his ear. “It’s a little stupid, but I always imagined that we’d be outside somewhere. I mean, I’d say yes to you anytime and anywhere, and you could be wearing a garbage bag for all I care, but...” You shrug, the motion made awkward by the fact that you’re still on top of him with your legs on either side of his naked thighs, and the fact that his dick is still very much inside you. “I figured you’d be on one knee, at least. You were on both last night, so I know you don’t have any health—“

Jungkook presses two fingers to your lips to shut you up, a crinkly eyed grin creasing his face. “You want me on my knees, baby? Because I can do that. I’ll do all that and more.”

(And he does. First in the shower, after he finally releases you from his embrace, and then again when you make your way to the kitchen, breakfast all but forgotten as you grip the counter so tightly your knuckles turn white.)

(There’s a third time, too—hours later and right as you step out of the house and into the fresh snow that’s fallen sometime during the night. He’s grinning a grin so wide that you fear his cheeks might fall off, so you drop down beside him and cup them between your palms, kissing him in between all the yeses and I love yous.)

(He’s right. The ring really is perfect.)

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (13)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

R+S+U ch 4 walked so this chapter could run. That’s all you need to know.  

*****

It’s the music Mac notices first. Jazz pours through the open windows of Cody Rickshaw’s mansion, each lilting note dancing down the slope of the golden light and skittering across the driveway’s terracotta pavers. It’s a lively tune played in some major key, but Mac doesn’t know enough about music to identify it further. 

The mansion is incredible from what he’s already seen of it via an old real estate listing. Beige stucco exterior, terracotta roof tiles, shrubs and palms and flowers strategically placed throughout the immaculately green lawn. Including the pool house and stable out back, the whole compound is a little over twenty thousand square feet. He’s almost afraid to ask how much it cost. 

He should’ve brought a nicer suit. 

Handing the keys to the valet, Mac extends his arm to Riley, and she accepts with a smirk. It’s intoxicating having her this close. Their shoulders brush, and her perfume—a different one than what she wore on their fake date—tickles his nose, but at the same time, Riley’s firm grip on his arm is grounding and reassuring. 

Mac sneaks another look at her back. Exposed by her black backless dress, the dark lines of the tattoo are harsh against her skin, and Mac would be lying if he said the sight of it isn’t still off-putting. It’s stunning, but it’s so not Riley that it’s more weird than anything else. 

She catches him staring, and he quickly looks away.

A woman in her forties with dyed red hair greets them at the door with a bright, white smile. “Welcome to our home!” she says. She must be the candidate’s wife, then. Mac gives the woman a polite nod before leading Riley into the mansion. 

The interior is even more extravagant than he expects—wood paneling, cream upholstery, chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, exquisite paintings that, altogether, probably cost as much as the house. A less experienced agent would be afraid to touch anything. 

Luckily for him, Mac has no qualms about breaking stuff. 

Beside him, Riley scans their surroundings, systematically mapping the veritable maze they just entered. Mac does the same, craning his neck to see through the mass of people gathered in the atrium. It takes a minute to find someone he recognizes. Like them, Conrad and his wife seem to be trapped in the front of the house, but none of the other Patriots are anywhere to be seen. 

Conrad’s wife detaches herself from his side and elbows her way through the crowd to greet them. “You must be James and Genevieve,” she says in a thick Southern accent. By looks alone, she’s way out of Conrad’s league. 

Mac smiles. “We are.” 

But Mrs. Deacon’s attention is solely focused on Riley. “The boys weren’t kidding when they said you’re a pretty little thing.” She grabs Riley’s free arm. “Come, Genevieve. I’ll introduce you to all the other wives. Let’s leave the boring business stuff to the boys, shall we?” 

Riley forces a smile, laying the fake excitement on a little too thick, but Mrs. Deacon doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Riley calls over her shoulder as she disappears into the crowd. 

For a moment, Mac just stands there awkwardly, left alone in the middle of the party with nothing but the squeak of his patent leather shoes to keep him company. Tonight is the first time they’ve interacted with the Patriots unarmed, and honestly, Mac is more comfortable this way. 

Matty insisted he bring a gun. She doesn’t need to know he didn’t listen. 

The snack table is calling his name, so that’s where Mac heads first, surveying the veritable feast of bite-sized dishes. He should be doing the same thing as Riley—meeting as many people as possible so by the end of the night they’ll have a complete personnel list for the Patriots. That damn list wasn’t part of the initial FBI intel, and not knowing who people are is starting to piss Mac off. Really, it’s the lack of knowledge in general. 

Damn, he really has lost his taste for long ops.

The appetizers are good, but the champagne is only mediocre—although Mac supposes it’s not fair to compare it to the astronomically expensive stuff he’s had in France. Nothing compares to that. Still, the bubbles on his tongue, sliding down his throat, are crisp and pleasant. 

“Good evening, James,” Ethan says, approaching from Mac’s right. He begins his own survey of the food. “I see Charlotte Deacon already stole your wife. Word of advice: don’t expect her back any time soon.” 

Charlotte Deacon. Conrad’s wife. Habitual wife-stealer at parties. Noted. 

“Didn’t think so,” he replies. 

Ethan studies him, his gaze a little too keen for Mac’s liking. “You seem far more comfortable here than any of my men. You attend these things often?” 

“Gen and I have an active social life.” An easy half-truth. 

“Good for you. I’ll admit mine took a turn for the worse after my ex-wife and I separated. She was always the planner.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” Mac sips his champagne. “If you don’t mind my asking, what went wrong between you two?” It’s a big risk asking such a personal question, but Ethan volunteered the information first so… 

“She didn’t believe in the cause. She gave me an ultimatum: my work or her.” It’s Ethan’s turn to drink, long and slow. 

The cause. That’s what Conrad called it too, on that first visit to the warehouse. Three weeks later, Mac still doesn’t have a clue what it means aside from condoning the murder of innocents. But if Ethan was willing to leave his wife for it… 

Mac doesn’t know what to think. 

Riley appears through a gap in the crowd, champagne in hand, laughing with a group of women. Mac asks Ethan, “Did Charlotte Deacon steal your ex at parties too?” 

A dark laugh. “They were inseparable. Still are.” 

A long pause stretches between them. Surprisingly, it’s not awkward, although it’s not exactly comfortable either. More guests trickle inside. Mac supposes it’s time to move on; he can’t hide by the appetizers all night. Riding the coattails of this temporary camaraderie, he asks Ethan, “Any other advice?” 

The older man looks him square in the eye. “That wife of yours? Don’t let her go.” 

“I won’t.” The words are thick on his tongue. 

“Excuse me,” Ethan says, and they part ways. Mac just glimpses the outline of a gun beneath Ethan’s suit jacket before he melts into the crowd. 

He’s still puzzling through why Ethan would be armed at a party like this when Jett, of all people, waves him over. What the hell? Jett hates him just as much as he hates Jett. But Mac soon finds himself being welcomed into a group of guys all in their thirties—some he knows, some he doesn’t, all members of the Patriots. A pleasant and entirely foreign version of Jett introduces Mac to all of them. 

Maybe it’s just Riley he hates. Asshole. 

They talk about baseball. Time passes quickly.

Mac barely registers Riley’s approach before a cold hand slips into his and she murmurs, “Baby.” Their code word sets off warning bells in his brain, and Mac immediately excuses himself from the conversation, doing his best to ignore the hungry looks the men give Riley. 

Worry creases Mac’s brow as he leads her a few steps away. Riley looks at him with pleading eyes, and Mac automatically brushes a loose piece of hair out of her face. The gesture comes easily now, with no second-guessing afterward. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

Riley swallows. “I got cornered coming out of the bathroom by some random guy who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.” 

Fear crawling up his throat, Mac squeezes her hand. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little rattled.” Riley’s gaze shifts to something behind Mac, and he follows her line of sight to a man sulking in a corner, nursing a drink. “He wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him you’d put a bullet through his favorite body part in the middle of the party.” Nevermind that neither of them are armed. 

The man makes eye contact with Mac and straightens. He pointedly shifts his gaze to Riley, and by the time he raises his glass in mock salute, Mac is seeing red at this man’s lack of respect. “I’ll be right back.” He drops Riley’s hand. Mac sidesteps her, but she anticipates the move and sidesteps with him. 

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.” 

What the hell? It’s the least this douchebag deserves. “I’m going to fix this for you,” he assures. He’s going to punch that man in the face, that’s what he’s going to do.

“I don’t want that.” 

Mac freezes, the fire inside him dying a little. “Why not?” 

“I didn’t ask you to.” Not meeting his eyes, Riley crosses her arms. “You don’t have to fix everything.” If she doesn’t want him to fix it, then why would she—

He doesn’t get to finish the thought.

“We can talk about this later. Incoming.” She grabs his elbow and spins him just in time to see the man of the hour approaching. Mac glances over his shoulder, checking if someone important is standing behind him, but there’s nothing but empty space. They’re alone. Cody Rickshaw wants to talk to them. 

Cody Rickshaw. Tall, well-groomed salt and pepper hair, expensive white smile. Nice suit. Nicer watch. A man of the people, but with deep pockets—or so his image on the campaign trail portrayed. 

“Welcome to my home!” he says, shaking Mac’s hand, and Mac notes the subtle difference between Cody’s wording and his wife’s. “Thank you for coming. Ethan’s new business partner, right?” 

“Right.” 

The song changes, and whatever Cody was about to say is lost to the sweeping melody. “Excuse me. I believe I owe my wife a dance.” He leaves as abruptly as he arrived, and Riley mutters a few snarky choice words under her breath that Mac chooses to ignore. Other couples have already begun to gather outside, swaying in the open space by the band. It’s a nice, balmy night, and Mac too would rather be dancing than systematically meeting people. 

They have time for a quick break, he decides. 

He offers a hand, and it feels like he’s offering his heart right alongside it as he asks, “May I have this dance, Mrs. Turner?” 

She ducks her head and smiles. “You may.” 

There’s something pleasant in wrapping her cold hand in his warm one. Like together they create thermodynamic equilibrium. 

Music wraps around them in a soft embrace as they follow it outside. Warm white lights hang over the patio, and the tiered fountain subtly shifts colors. Beneath the layer of alcohol, the air smells sweet and floral. As his hand finds Riley’s waist, fingertips brushing her bare skin, nervousness weighs down Mac’s feet, making him forget everything he knows about dancing. Riley squeezes his hand.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies tightly. Her eyes search his, and Mac knows without a doubt that if he holds eye contact with her for one more second, he won’t be able to hold back the confession rising in his throat. He draws her closer so that they’re cheek to cheek, chest to chest. 

Riley’s breath catches as his hand slides to the small of her back, and just for tonight, Mac lets himself pretend it means something. Call him Cinderella at the ball—content to live out the fantasy until reality comes calling. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs as they sway to the music. Riley is beautiful all the time, but tonight especially so in her elegant black gown. Modest in the front, completely open in the back, with sleeves that stop midway down her forearms. Her jewelry is simple—a pair of thin, but long, diamond earrings—making the tattoo on her back stand out even more. All night, Mac has noticed people staring at it, a few in distaste but most in awe and appreciation. 

He’d be staring too if he wasn’t already enraptured by the way her eyes held so much warmth and light every time she looked at him. 

“Thank you,” she says. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Definitely better than Jack would’ve in that suit.” Mac laughs. 

“He’d resent that.” 

“He doesn’t need to know.” 

Mac presses his smile into her skin in the form of a cheek kiss. Hopefully Riley’s peripheral vision isn’t good enough to see the blush coloring his face afterward.

The couple beside them are excellent dancers, the man twirling the woman with practiced ease. A familiar ache flares in Mac’s chest. That’s the kind of love he wants. That kind of comfort and connectedness. At the song’s next crescendo, Mac twirls Riley away from him, and despite her surprised expression, she follows his lead without missing a step. 

Spinning back into his arms, she tells him, “By the way, one of the guys you were talking to earlier was the dude who tailed me a couple weeks ago.” Their bodies aren’t as close as they were thirty seconds ago, and Mac gets the feeling there’s more to her comment than just sharing intel. 

“Which one?”

“Crooked tie.” 

That was Peter Morrison. One of Jett’s buddies and, apparently, the dude who’d made him want to bash Ethan and Conrad’s heads in. 

Since she wasn’t appreciative of his earlier protective gesture, Mac simply replies, “Good to know.” 

He feels Riley take a deep breath. And then— “Remember our conversation that day? When I told you he tailed me?” Mac nods. “You asked me if I wanted a hug or help kicking someone’s ass.” He nods again. “That’s how I need you to react every time. I need you to give me the choice.” 

It takes a second for her meaning to click. 

“Is this about the creepy bathroom guy?” Now it’s Riley’s turn to nod. “I thought since last time…” He stops mid-sentence when she raises a meticulously drawn eyebrow. 

“Last time I was angry and needed space to let it out. But this time? This bullshit happens often enough that I know how to handle it, but it still scares the crap out of me every time.” She lowers her voice. “I’m afraid of the day I won’t be able to handle it.” 

Her admission rings through Mac’s head. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. She came to him for comfort and he dropped her fucking hand. 

He is an idiot. 

Voice thick, he manages, “You’re saying you wanted the hug.” 

“Yeah. I wanted the hug.” 

Pushing aside the familiar blame and self-loathing, Mac sends up a plea for forgiveness. “Is it too late for that hug?” 

“No. It’s not too late.” With a watery smile, Riley closes the distance between them once again, and Mac holds her tightly, letting his thumb absently brush her back. 

He curses himself. How stupid could he be? He assumed incorrectly, but more than that, he completely misread the situation. She’s his best friend, for crying out loud, and most of the time he can read her like an open book. Most of the time, Riley wears her emotions plain on her face whether she likes it or not. God, if he was wrong about this, then what else has he been wrong about? 

Before his overanalyzing brain makes him doubt things he knows to be true, he whispers, “I’m sorry.” 

I love you. 

“Please don’t stress out about it,” she whispers back. “I just wanted you to know. For next time.” 

Too late.

The song changes, and before long someone taps Mac’s shoulder from behind. 

“May I cut in?” Ethan asks. 

Mac barely reins in his growl. Why the hell do they keep getting interrupted? This party is huge. Can’t Ethan talk to literally anyone else? 

But after a silent conversation with Riley—and her consent—Mac steps aside to let Ethan have his turn. As he walks away, Mac just hears the beginning of Ethan thanking Riley for her unexpected support during the council meeting earlier this week. He tunes out the rest. 

Taking up a post beside the fountain, Mac doesn’t dare blink as he catalogs Ethan’s every move—every facial expression, every arm movement, every confident step across the dance floor. Even the hand just barely resting on Riley’s hip, carefully placed to avoid touching her bare skin. Mac clenches his teeth. 

But what bothers him the most isn’t the older man’s chivalry or his above-average dancing, but the way Riley’s face lights up when she laughs, genuinely laughs, at something Ethan says. That look Mac has long thought was only for him. 

He’s not quite sure when the first time she smiled at him like that was—maybe a year, year and a half after they met?—only that he’s been the sole receiver for a long time. Admittedly, that smile was less frequent while she was dating Billy and Aubrey, and never when Billy or Aubrey were physically present, but Mac still likes to think of it as his smile. 

The fact that Riley also flashes that smile to the guys at her favorite taco shop in order to acquire a free churro is an outlier and should not be counted. 

It shouldn’t grate on his nerves, but it does. While Riley’s never been his, she’s always been his girl, in a way. Maybe that’s just Jack’s protectiveness rubbing off on him. He’s never liked having to share her time and attention with some random man.

“So he got to your wife too,” someone drawls behind him. Conrad stands a few feet away, hands stuffed in the pockets of his too-long dress pants. 

“Excuse me?”

Conrad jerks his chin toward Ethan. “He likes attention. And he has no problem flirting with any of our wives to get it.” The resentment beneath his words is palpable. 

Mac recalls what Ethan said to him earlier. That wife of yours? Don’t let her go. He’d taken it as a warning. But if what Conrad said is true… Ethan’s words weren’t just a warning, but also a threat. 

Ethan twirls Riley right as the song ends, and then he’s offering his arm to lead her back to Mac. About damn time. “Your wife is a lovely dancer,” he says to Mac. “Thank you for letting me borrow her.” Everything about his wording rubs Mac the wrong way. The implication that Riley belongs to him. The fact that Ethan is thanking him and not Riley in the first place. Smirking, Ethan turns his attention to Conrad. “I take it Charlotte is still off holding court somewhere.”

“Something like that.” Tension brims between Conrad’s clipped words and Ethan’s smug ones. Interestingly, Conrad doesn’t go any more on the defensive; instead he lowers his head slightly and lets the conversation end there. Like a dog called to heel. After a few seconds, Conrad excuses himself, slinking back into the crowd. 

“Enjoy your evening,” Ethan says with a polite smile. Then he vanishes into the crowd as well. 

Unable to stop himself, Mac runs a hand down the length of Riley’s spine, emboldened by jealousy heating his blood. She shivers. 

At some point since they first came outside, the moon had risen above the slant of the roof, and now bright, silvery moonlight mixes with the warm yellow of the backyard lighting. Riley’s diamond earrings are ablaze with it. 

“I got a few more names,” Riley says, lowering her voice so no one overhears. “But I think we have ourselves a personnel list.” 

“Good.” The word comes out sharper than Mac intends, and she studies him. Damnit. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Good, because I’m not.” The look she gives him is both a warning and a request. Hold it together. “One more dance,” she adds at a normal volume, pulling him back onto the dance floor. Then, when she’s pressed against him and the music is guiding their feet, Riley murmurs, “It’s just acting.” She says it more to herself than to him. “Just a little longer, then we can go home.”

Smiling at Ethan was just an act, he realizes. 

He also realizes, then, the difference between them: Riley keeps her feelings about the op buried deep under her icy mask, while his churn just beneath the surface. 

And it’s the churning that could ruin everything. In more ways than one. 

God, he’s a mess. 

Mac takes a deep breath. And another. And another. And another until he can say I’m okay and mean it. Appeased, Riley rests her head on his shoulder. 

He wants to go home. Not just back to the safe house to escape the party, but home home, where he can sit at his desk and pick up an old project and rebuild his sense of normalcy, away from everyone but himself. Soon, he promises himself. After tonight, they’re one step closer to soon, whenever that may be.  

Meanwhile, his lungs fill with the scent of Riley’s perfume—sweet, floral, and some heavier note he can’t identify—emanating from the warm skin of her neck. It’s soft and comforting like a worn blanket tucked around his shoulders. He says something remarkably eloquent like, You smell good. 

She laughs softly. “Glad you think so.”

The music peters out, and people start migrating toward the small stage setup inside. But Mac isn’t ready to let Riley go. He says, “I could dance with you all night.” 

Mockingly batting her eyelashes, Riley replies, “Is that so, Mr. Turner?” 

How someone as perceptive as her missed the honesty behind his flirting is beyond Mac. Under any other circumstances, he’d slip into character and keep teasing her, all for show, but maybe he’s just high off her presence because for once Mac doesn’t want to play it off. He wants her to know. And maybe that’s a stupid idea, but then again stupid has never stopped him before. 

He shakes his head. “You. I could dance with you all night.” It’s as close as he can get without saying her name. 

“Oh.” 

She hesitates, and Mac braces himself for a rejection that doesn’t come. In fact, she does the opposite. 

Riley smiles. Not a big one, not one of his smiles, but a slow upturn of her lips that makes his heart flutter. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

She doesn’t let go of his hand. 

The crowd is bigger than Mac anticipated, and he and Riley have to squeeze themselves into the gap between a pillar and a very large potted plant. Cody is already on stage, standing too close to the microphone as he thanks everyone for attending this humble party. Mac rolls his eyes. There’s nothing humble about this. 

Cody Rickshaw knows the game well. He talks about big, necessary changes and family values, and he knows the easiest way to unify people is to convince them that other people want to ruin their present way of life. He makes campaign promises and jokes at his own expense. All standard operating procedure. And then he invites Ethan on stage. 

“The man behind the curtain,” Cody begins. “Ethan here has been instrumental to my success, and I look forward to continuing our work to create a better future for everyday Americans.” 

By… terrorizing them? The connection between Cody and Ethan—and by extension, the Patriots—still doesn’t make sense. 

Ethan is dismissed from the stage, and Cody calls up another donor. Mac doesn’t know what to make of their relationship; he’d hoped to gain some insight tonight, but he’s still clueless. He fidgets with Riley’s wedding ring, giving his hands something to do while he thinks. 

Why would a politician support murdering his own voter base?

Quietly, Riley asks, “What are you thinking?” 

“Not sure yet.” He sighs. “We need to get closer. Figure out what they plan behind closed doors.” He catches Riley’s gaze, noting the wide-eyed look of apprehension there, even as she nods. 

“Agreed.”

*****

Against all odds, Charlotte Deacon is somehow even more of a busybody than Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann, at least, one could see coming. She likes to announce her presence from afar. She feeds on her victims’ dread as she approaches. But Charlotte Deacon, on the other hand, swoops in out of nowhere, trapping her victims before they know what’s happening—or have a chance to contemplate escape. 

And Mac is, without a doubt, a victim of this choreographed violence. 

Charlotte scrutinizes Riley’s wedding ring, holding Riley’s hand hostage while she shines her phone’s flashlight on it. Mac has no idea whether that helps, and when Riley shoots him a questioning look, all he can do is shrug. 

“This is stunning,” Charlotte says. “It sparkles just right, don’t you think, James?” She twists it slightly, and bright white light bounces off the ring directly into Mac’s eyes. 

“It does.”

“I’d reckon it’s the brightest thing in here.” She lowers her voice. “And that’s saying something if you compare it to wannabe Barbie over there.” Charlotte gestures toward a woman across the room, clad in a bright pink sequined dress. She’s not wrong. It’s shiny, all right. 

Like Carrie Ann, Charlotte is easily appeased by flirting and other public displays of attention. A few warm looks and some gentle teasing puts a gleeful smile on her face. 

Content to indulge her—and indulge himself—Mac replies, “I wouldn’t know. Nothing sparkles quite like she does.” His eyes settle on Riley’s face. The delicate line of her brow. The slope of her cheekbones. The curve of her lips. 

And damn her, she bites her lip and lets her eyes sweep down his body. 

Charlotte looks positively delighted. “Don’t hold back on my account. I don’t mind a little PDA.”

Mac wouldn’t mind a little PDA right now either, but roots have sprouted from the soles of his feet, piercing the hardwood floor and curling into the concrete foundation beneath. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. 

And he wants to. 

He’s terrified to. 

He’s terrified because of how badly he wants to. 

He could blow everything right here, right now. All this time tiptoeing around her, making sure this was a line they never crossed. Always making sure their intimacy was real, even if they had to occasionally put it on display. Screw holding out hope that she might return his feelings, a hope that’s fleeting by the day. This might be his only chance to find out what kissing Riley Davis is like. 

And yet. 

Mac can’t.

Can’t blatantly cross her boundaries like that, nor cross his own. But Charlotte is waiting expectantly, and they’re married for god’s sake, and now it’s weird because they’re not kissing already, and—

Fuck. 

He still can’t move, but that doesn’t matter because Riley is moving toward him entirely too quickly. Her hand clasps his elbow, she’s rising onto her tiptoes, and he doesn’t even want to know what sort of look Charlotte Deacon is giving them now, and—

Her perfume, which up until now Mac thought was soft and comforting, feels like it’s smothering him. 

Her eyes flutter closed, and if he were an artist instead of a scientist he’d spend a lifetime capturing the delicate sweep of her lashes over her cheekbones. 

He can’t do this. Not when it’s fake. The first one can’t be fake.

At the last possible second, Mac swerves, and Riley’s lips land on his cheek. Even before she has a chance to physically react, he knows he’s hurt her. Mac puts a gentle hand to her waist to prevent her from recoiling, and she stiffens under his touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

He didn’t expect this to ache the way it does, leaving him bruised and raw from the inside out. 

But Riley is stronger than he is, or at least better at hiding it than he is, because she plasters on a ridiculous pout, chastising, “Don’t be a tease, babe.” 

In a voice that doesn’t feel like his own, Mac somehow smoothly replies, “You like it.” To that, Riley simply rolls her eyes. 

“Well,” Charlotte says, clearly trying to puzzle through what she just witnessed, “You two have quite the night ahead of you.” Her innuendo isn’t quite as blatant as Carrie Ann’s, but it’s still hard to miss. 

“That we do,” Riley says, and the edge to her tone makes it clear the rest of Mac’s night won’t be as fun as Charlotte implied. “That said, please excuse us.” 

She doesn’t wait for a response. 

Riley’s iron grip feels like a manacle around his wrist as she drags him through the mansion. They pass room after room, make turn after turn, until they’re alone at the intersection of two unpopulated hallways. 

This could not be going worse.

Mac regrets nothing. Regrets everything. 

“That was humiliating,” Riley hisses. “Why wouldn’t you just kiss me?” 

He deserves the anger clouding her eyes, setting her jaw, sharpening her snarl. The look of betrayal turning the space between them scorching and hostile. He deserves all of it. 

For embarrassing her. 

For spending the whole night touching her and teasing her and flirting with her. And then not following through in the single instance where he actually needed to. The rest weren’t necessary; they just…helped. 

Mac knows all too well what it’s like to be the recipient of that kind of attention while undercover. Knows how good it feels to play pretend in this way. It’s an act, but over time it gets too easy to slide into that role, and that’s when the fog settles in, blurring fiction from reality. 

It messes with a person’s head. All undercover work does. This type of work just happens to tangle with hearts too. 

Except, Mac can’t bring himself to feel bad about the flirting. Dodging the kiss, yes, but not the flirting or the touching or the dancing. Maybe it’s the op screwing with his head too—who’s he kidding, it definitely is—but after their conversation the other day on the bathroom floor, something is different between them. A shared vulnerability. A new, deeper level of intimacy. Whatever it is, it redrew the boundary lines between them. 

His lips part, but no sound comes out. He tries again. 

Same result.

Shoulders caving inward, Riley’s anger fades into something else. Something…worse. It feels enough like defeat that Mac’s heart constricts. He doesn’t know who’s squeezing it, only that sharp nails pierce the vital organ as Riley says, in a barely audible whisper, “It was only a kiss.” 

He’s falling. He’s been standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking the churning, multifaceted sea that Riley is, wanting to jump and convincing himself to back away instead, but now the compacted sand crumbles beneath his feet and he’s sliding, sliding, sliding toward her. Toward the inevitable. 

Below him lies jagged rocks, and this current path will end with his broken body sprawled across them soon enough. 

His only choice now is to jump. 

“I’m not kissing you unless it’s real.” 

He doesn’t stutter. He doesn’t second-guess himself. Just quietly, but clearly says the damning words. 

Riley’s expression shatters.

And for once in his life, Mac can’t read a single emotion on her face. None last long enough for him to register, each refracting across her face like pieces of a kaleidoscope. He’s still falling. Unable to read her, Mac has no idea where he’ll land, or if he’ll even land in one piece. 

He doesn’t get the chance to find out. 

Muted male voices drift down the hall, headed in their direction, and when Riley starts to speak, Mac shoves her against the wall and clamps his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flare, livid, but he needs to shut her up before she accidentally gives them away. 

Maybe it’s nothing. But maybe it’s not. 

The voices are louder now, but if the way Riley fights his grip is any indicator, she still hasn’t registered them. “Listen,” he mouths, and after another second Riley finally stills, eyes softening in understanding. 

Mac can only hope she’s still wearing that expression when they eventually circle back to what he just confessed.

He doesn’t dare peek around the corner, but that doesn’t stop Mac from leaning as close as possible once his hand drops from Riley’s mouth. There’s a lipstick print stamped on his palm now. 

The voices are familiar. 

In the reflection of a nearby window, Mac can just make out two well-tailored suits he’s already seen tonight, up close and personal. One far closer than he would’ve liked. 

“The best time table I can offer you is a few weeks. I have the personnel, but something this intricate takes time,” Ethan says. 

A sigh. “You promised you’d eliminate my opponent,” Cody Rickshaw replies. “Your deadline is nearly up.” 

“I know.” 

“I have other contacts.” 

“I know that too.” 

“I want it public and impossible to trace back to me.” 

“My boys will make that happen.” 

They stop walking. Mac and Riley nearly bump heads trying to lean even closer. 

“The next event I attend better be a funeral. Capisce?”

Riley mutters, “What is this guy, a mob movie enthusiast?” Mac glares at her. Jack could—and did—teach her every essential skill she’d need as a spy…except how to refrain from making snide comments in inopportune situations. Jack never figured that one out for himself either. 

“Eliminate him, Ethan.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what ‘eliminate’ means. It’s the missing connection between Cody and the Patriots. It’s the reason he and Riley are here in the first place. 

Cody hired Ethan and the Patriots to clear the campaign trail for him. To wipe his opponent, the current governor, off the board completely. 

Eliminate means murder.

.

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Sweet Honey and Iced Tea (Part 3): Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

wc: 2.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

It's done! We're caught up to the events of Lemonade after this.

"Bye!" you shout back to your mom, dashing to the Charger at the foot of the portico. "See you later!"

"What time will you be back from the sleepover?" she wonders, but you shrug and continue down the stairs. When you open the car door, you toss in your overnight bag and Toji catches it, eyes wide.

"What the hell is--"

"Just drive," you groan, and he places the bag in the backseat, eyeing you while you put on your seatbelt. "I'll explain later." Toji drives off, past the guard post at the end of the road and onto the main road, where you finally relax.

"You look really nice," he murmurs after he clears his throat, his right hand drifting over to your thigh. You're clad in a knee-length black dress, with the necklace he gifted you resting right below the mock turtleneck.

"Thanks," you reply. "You look... normal." He's changed his black shirts out for a blue dress shirt that's slightly unbuttoned and a pair of black slacks.

"So, what's up with the bag?" Toji wonders, changing lanes. "You staying the night or something?" When you don't answer, he looks over at you, wide-eyed. "Wait, you're kidding, right?"

"I never kid," you murmur. "You'll see."

When he pulls up at the tallest tower in the city, you stare open-mouthed, gazing at the massive structure of steel and glass. Toji passes his keys off to a valet, muttering, "Scratch on the car, and you'll have a scratch on your face".

"Of course, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji opens your door, and you step out, your legs lithely crossing the space between the car and the sidewalk. He takes your hand and laces your fingers through his, walking into the building and past the crowd gathered by the concierge. "This place is packed on weekends," he mentions, and you blink, following him to the elevators. When he presses the "up" button, a door opens, and a man greets you both with a smile.

"Passes up to the Sky Tower?" he wonders, and Toji groans, fishing something out of his pocket. When he hands the man a silver key with what looks like a hotel tag, you watch the man's eyes glaze over. "My apologies, Mr. Fushiguro. I haven't seen you here in a while."

"According to records, no one has ever seen me here," he reminds the man sternly, who nods and hands him the key.

"Of course, sir."

You settle in next to Toji and ride the elevator up to the top floor, clasping his hand the whole way. Was this part of the underground activities your mother spoke to you about? Or was this just...

The doors to the elevator open up to a long, dark hallway, only illuminated by sporadic blue lighting coming up from the floor. Toji leads the way again, and you look around, examining the hallway with curiosity. You can't hear anything, you can barely see... what kind of place is this? Once the plush carpet beneath your feet gives way to a path of marble, you regain a sliver of your confidence.

"It's just dinner," Toji reminds you as the doors swing open, unveiling a luxurious restaurant filled with a plethora of carat-encrusted and silk-covered personalities. This isn't "just dinner". This scene tops the best dining arrangements you've seen for clan head meetings.

A woman with long black hair and dressed in a black suit is standing at a marble podium, brown eyes flicking up to watch you two walk into the restaurant.

"Ah, Mr. Fushiguro! You're right on time."

"Was I supposed to be late?" Toji wonders, grinning. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Misato."

"And the same to you, sir. Right this way," the woman lifts two menus from the side of the podium, and as you walk behind her, you take in the sights. Posh seating arrangements cover the expanse of the dining area, each table covered in an eggshell white cloth, and chandeliers are distributed around the ceiling so each table received the same amount of lighting. Gilding decorates the white walls, and portraits of beautiful women in fantasy scenes stare back at you. But you're ushered past a set of glass doors and into a private room, where a table for two sits alone, surrounded by glass on three sides that overlooks the city below.

"Enjoy," Misato says, leaving the menus on the table and walking out. Toji pulls your seat out for you, and you sit in it before he pushes you in a little, then takes his own seat across from you.

"Toji, this is..."

"Do you like it?" he asks, eyeing you carefully.

"I love it," you answer. "But you could have just taken me to a picnic by the lake and it would've been fine."

"I'll remember that for next time," he grunts, lifting a menu and handing it to you. "I normally don't order off of this, but you can take a look and see what you like."

"Why are you doing this?" you wonder, peeking at the green-eyed man over the menu. "This seems like a lot for a first date."

"Is it?" Toji asks, fiddling with his fingers. "Or is this what you should expect from me as a man of stature and influence who is wooing a woman who will soon be on equal footing?" You swallow hard, knitting your brows together. He's right, you realize as he glances up at you, lips quirking into a smile. If he hadn't wined and dined me, I would've thought I was just another one of his playthings.

"Fushiguro!" A man calls out jovially, entering the room from the glass doors. He's tiny, with thinning brown hair and piercing black eyes; his hands raised in excitement. "You've finally brought a beautiful woman to this fine establishment." Toji laughs as the man claps him on the back and turns to you.

"This is my girlfriend, y/n. Y/n, this is my favorite bartender, chef, and confidant Gurumogi."

"Oh, y/n? I've heard so much about--" The man stops, clearing his throat. "I've heard so much about your family! It is such a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," you smile, bowing your head slightly.

"Listen, I've got something the two of you will love. Give me those menus, you won't need them. I'll bring out two main dishes, one dessert, and as much wine and brandy as you want."

"I have to drive," Toji reminds the man, who cackles loudly. "I won't be drinking tonight."

"When do you ever leave here and drive sober?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Can I eat the rest of my dessert?" you wonder, fully tipsy off the aged wine, stellar food, and even more enjoyable conversation.

"Not in the car, babe," Toji murmurs, his eyes focused on the road. "Gotta get you home first."

"Oh, I'll make sure I keep your car clean," you reply, reaching your hand into the bag. "It's just chocolate cake."

"Chocolate cake, cashew-caramel ice cream, a caramelized banana, and coffee dust." Toji corrects you, and you laugh, touching his arm playfully.

"You really paid attention, didn't you?" Toji's green eyes swim as he looks over to you, and you blink slowly, putting on your best flirty look. "You pay attention to a lot, don't you?"

"What's the bag for?" Toji asks, eyes back on the road.

"What isn't it for?" you shoot back, removing your hand from his arm.

"You're really staying the night, then?"

"I want to," you begin. "I want to stay the night with you."

"Not going back home?" he wonders, turning into a gated residential area and slowing down.

"Not until tomorrow." Toji rolls down his window and makes a motion to the guard at the front, who waves him on, smiling brightly. You don't speak again until you arrive at a large, stucco residence (about the size of your house, if you're being honest) with lights illuminating the facade. Toji swings around the front driveway, parking right in front of the house before stopping the car and getting out. He opens your door again, taking the bag of leftovers and your bag from the backseat before helping you out of the car and up to the door of the house. A bald man opens the door, face stoic as he lets you and Toji into the residence before shutting and locking it.

"I'll have Gulia prepare a room for you," Toji murmurs, climbing the stairs with your things after handing the bag of food to the man at the door.

"Not what I had in mind." Toji turns at this, his green eyes watching you ascend the staircase shakily. "I thought you'd let me occupy your room with you."

"Is that what you want?" he asks, mouth parting slightly.

"Yes," you breathe, standing right in front of him on the top stair. "I want you." His eyes dip to look at your lips but then come back up to your eyes, and he discloses,

"Your wish is my command."

His room isn't too far, but by the time you've reached it, your feet are crying out in misery. As if to acknowledge this pain, you flop onto the bed face down in neatly-made sheets and a tender but firm mattress. Toji takes off your shoes after placing your bag in a chair, rubbing your feet as you lay on the bed in your tipsy state.

"That feels good," you mumble, eyes closed. "Feels really good."

"Yeah?" Toji's voice has dipped an octave, and you can hear the desire in his voice again, just like a few nights ago. Finally.

"You're too nice to me." Toji huffs a laugh, kissing your ankles.

"If it gets me this view," he teases, "Then I'll be nicer than a broke man after your money." You chuckle, lifting up off of the bed and stretching, bones popping back into place.

"Or a rich man after my hand in marriage."

"Oh, I wouldn't be nice about that," he begins, unbuttoning his shirt. "I'd be so mean."

"You would?" You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him pull off his shirt. When Toji finishes, he tosses it onto the floor, then leans over you, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Oh, yeah. I'd be so unkind. All I'd need to do is suck up to your family because I'm really marrying them, not you." You run a hand up to his jawline, then pat it twice, shaking your head.

"Then why are you so nice to me?" Toji cranes his head down, lips brushing against yours as he breathes:

"Because I'm in love with you."

When he kisses you for the second time, you feel the jolt of the spark again, but this time, it nearly knocks you flat onto your back. If it wasn't for Toji catching you, you'd be splayed underneath him, ready to be devoured. He holds you close, kissing you hungrily and with need as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling slightly. The growl into your mouth is borderline feral, but it doesn't matter to you.

You want him.

He wants you.

There's nothing left to discuss.

Thick fingers make quick work of undressing you, and before you can really register that you're naked, you're on display for the only man you've ever been physically undressed by. Toji licks his thumb and middle finger, running his middle finger up your slit and nestling his thumb against your clit.

"If you want to stop, say so. I'm not going to push you to do something you're not ready for." You nod, and he begins to circle his thumb on the sensitive nub, drawing a soft whine from you as your hips move up into his hand. When his middle finger sinks into you, Toji hisses, lips curling up slightly. "You're already drenched, baby."

"Just for you," you reply, and Toji closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Shit," he laughs, opening his eyes. "I want to be inside of you so bad. But I have to make you cum first." His middle finger moves against your g-spot lazily, curling and pressing ever so slightly. You buck into his hand again, losing your breath and running both hands over your breasts. Toji takes this as a sign and leans down to flick your right nipple with his tongue carefully, his eyes watching your face contort into an expression of pure pleasure.

"Please, Toji," you pant. Toji quickens his strokes against your g-spot in response, sucking on your breast with added pressure. When he moves to your left breast, things are becoming hazy, unraveled, incohesive. You feel an orgasm building, your hips rolling under his touch, and Toji feels it, too, his eyes darkening.

"Go ahead," he whispers against the skin of your earlobe. "Cum for me, baby. Whenever you're ready."

"Ah," you exhale, frowning. "Gonna cu--" The gasp wrenched from your throat drags painfully into your lungs. You feel every nerve light up in your body and Toji hums, long and loud, feeling your cunt spasm around his finger.

Your orgasm feels like it might go on forever but it suddenly stops as Toji removes his fingers from you. He frees his cock from his pants quickly, stroking his thick, weeping member as he leans over you. The arm that grasps his cock is covered in a tiger tattoo, the head of the beast sitting right at his wrist. You trail your fingers along the image, but then Toji presses your right leg up and your left leg to the side.

"I don't think it'll fit," you whisper, looking at his cock with uncertainty as he rolls a condom down to the hilt.

"It will," Toji reassures you. "It might take some work, but it will. Just be patient, sweetheart." When he nudges his cockhead into your entrance, you stiffen up instinctively. "Relax," he coos, kissing your cheeks repeatedly. "Just relax for me." You try to let go as he rocks into you slowly, holding your head in his hands as he kisses you deeply and eases himself inside of you. But when he feels he can go no further, Toji lifts onto an elbow and rubs your side carefully. "Feel okay?" His eyes are hooded, but you still can decipher the care and concern in them.

"Yes," you breathe. "Just stay here for a moment." Toji cups both of your breasts and litters kisses across them, sucking harshly in places where he knows the hickies won't be seen. When you're ready, you shift your hips up a little, and he begins rocking into you again, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of being buried inside of you.

"God damn," he mutters. "Probably won't last long..."

"Really?" you wonder, throwing an arm around his back.

"Honestly, I could nut right now," he laughs, and you do, too. "But I'm going to hold off for as long as I can; want to make your first time one of the best." You moan at this, and he lifts his hips slightly to push his final inch into you. When Toji's sheathed inside of you, he begins to pump a little faster, not pulling out fully, but almost. Your panting is timed perfectly with his groans, and before long, the sound of your lovemaking turns into a perfect symphony of slapping skin, moaning, and tender sounds of kissing here and there.

And it's all so perfect.

When you reach the edge of oblivion again (which doesn't take long), you curl your fingers into his back, holding Toji as close as you can. "Fushiguro," you breathe, and he grasps your hips tightly, feeling your cunt close around him.

"I feel you," he huffs. "I'm close, too." It takes almost three strokes for you to lose your mind, and you very nearly blackout as he rams his hips into you before they jerk sharply. "Oh... fuck..." Toji moans into your ear as you keen softly.

When you both come down from your high, still holding each other close, you realize that there's no one else in the world for you, and Toji mumbles, "I'm going to make you my wife someday."

"But our families--"

"Will have to suck it up," he quips, shrugging. "Not our problem anymore."

But you both know you'll have to go up against some resistance. So, when you leave his residence the next morning (after he's made love to you once more before you showered), you agree to keep it a secret until it's the proper time to address it.

Which won't come for another five years.

[moonbeambucky]

I Promise (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4106 Warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: My first Chris Beck fic! Rather than a really long one shot I’m splitting it into two parts. A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

“Hey.”

The soft resonance of Chris’ voice brings tears to your eyes, ones you couldn’t help from slipping out. They fall down the curve of your cheeks past the uneasy smile you wore.

“I kept my promise,” he said. Chris flashed the top row of his bright white teeth, his mouth curving into a boyish smile that reached his eyes, the fine lines crinkling around them. He tilted his head as he looked at you through the screen, a comforting gaze that made you feel as if he was there with you. 

The quality of the video chat is near perfect making you almost forget Chris was millions of miles away. He looked the same, not that you expected him to look different. It had only been a few months since you last saw each other. 

His hair looks darker than usual but you suppose it’s the low lighting of the small room he’s in. He’s bundled up in a thick NASA sweatshirt and you can see several more layers he has on beneath the collar. Chris looks tired but that’s expected, what he’s doing right now is not a walk in the park. You know it’s the reason why it’s taken so long for him to contact you but you wish he did it sooner. 

More tears flood your eyes, burning their way out as you wished he never left at all. You can barely hear Chris over the sound of your own sobs.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

You lifted your head towards the screen and seeing the concern on his face only made you miss him more, wishing he was there to console you in person.

Your hand swept away tears from your cheek as your voice cracked saying his name. “Chris…” 

The streets are simmering with the heat of a summer that couldn’t wait to officially start. Calendars be damned, it was hot. You indulged in a cool shower when you got home from work but time didn’t allow for a languid evening of staying in your towel as you applied serums and moisturizers, lotions and creams and every other post-shower pampering you normally do. Tonight was dinner with a friend and you needed to get ready.

Chatter filled the air of the patio, a small secluded outdoor space at the back of an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. It had an Old World Tuscan feel, from the stucco walls that looked purposely imperfect. Green patina shutters hung beside a wrought iron lantern that glowed in the early evening. Lush greens and bright flowers sat atop the half wall that surrounded the dining area making you forget you were in the city.

Chris looked the same, not that you expected him to be different. It had only been about two years since you’ve seen each other, right before he began training for his mission and now you can’t believe it was about to happen. Never would you have expected that the little boy down the block who became your best friend would actually be going to Mars.

For most of your lives you were in the same school, starting in Mrs. Kramer’s kindergarten class where you stuck together; two kids that were nervous about making friends and finding comfort in each other. As the years went on you weren’t always in the same classes but your friendship continued to grow. Chris was picked on for having a girl as a best friend and the girls always teased that he was your “boyfriend.” It never felt that way with Chris. He was your friend first and you never saw him as anything more. 

By the time you were in middle school Chris was already taking advanced classes in math and science and the only class you had together was art which he was famously terrible at. It was there you asked him a huge favor, whispering to him at the sink as you rinsed off your paint brushes. “Could you kiss me?” Chris turned as red as a boiling lobster, immediately sweating as if he was being roasted alive himself. It was later that day walking home from school that you clarified what you meant.

There was a boy, Justin Kaufman, who was the coolest kid in your grade. You had a crush on him like everyone else and you were shocked when he asked if you would go with him to the dance on Friday. You were worried he might try to kiss you and being inexperienced made you nervous. Justin was really popular and if you were a bad kisser then the whole school would know it. Chris was your friend, someone you trusted, someone you could practice with just to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself. 

You had no frame of reference for kissing back then apart from one sided smooches to pictures of movie stars that you had a crush on. But feeling Chris’ lips press back against yours was… nice. The best part about it was that things didn’t feel awkward after. Chris was still your best friend and nothing changed. 

A server hands you a menu and you thank him, scanning through it to see what you might be interested in. Chris looks up at the same time you do, wondering if you wanted an appetizer.  You nodded letting him choose, considering the limited food options he’ll have for over the next year. 

“Can you drink?”

Chris’ nose crinkled as he smiled. “In space? No. Tonight? Yes,” he chuckled softly. 

Two glasses of red wine were set on the table as you indulged in delicious food, catching up as much as you could before Chris’ mission. 

“So you’d love what happened today,” you began, leaning closer, “We filmed a restoration video and yours truly was in it.”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he gasped. “I love those! You have to send it to me. Hopefully I can see it before I go. What was it?”

“A sixteenth century European oil painting.” You went into detail and Chris loved listening to your knowledge of art history. It was no wonder that was your major, taking your studies further to work as a conservator at the Met.

Chris swallowed his food quickly to speak. “You were always good at that– art, attention to detail. Remember when we had to sculpt our own faces?” he chuckled.

There was a short burst of laughter as you remembered that day from so long ago. “Yes! Thankfully the real you doesn’t look anything like that abomination you made.” 

Chris drops his head down to hide a bashful smile that mixed in with laughter. He’s enjoying himself, catching up with you, eating. This was so good. He couldn’t help but scoop up another forkful of pasta, not expecting you to ask him a question. “So, how are you feeling?”

He paused to reflect and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’m nervous… excited.” Taking a sip of wine, he sets the glass down carefully on the table. Chris’ face has grown more serious. “My mom’s worried.”

“Of course she is, I don’t blame her. I’m worried. Mars is… well it’s Mars! It’s not around the block.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s definitely not.” 

Chris is heading home to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the next few days with his parents. Chloe, his younger sister is coming in as well so they can all spend some time together before he has to fly down to Florida.

“Then it’s go for launch!” he said with a beaming smile, though Chris had to correct himself for the sake of accuracy. Once he’s down there the crew has to quarantine for at least ten days and go through a bunch of pre-flight checkups and procedures first. “Are you gonna watch?”

The incredulous look you gave him answered his question. “Did you really have to ask? Of course I’m going to watch the launch.” 

His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at you. “Oh and don’t worry I put you on my contact list so you can send me emails. Not sure how quickly I'll get them since CAPCOM directs it back to us. And as long as we have the right satellite coverage we can even do video calls.”

“Like Facetime?”

“In theory yeah, more like space Skype,” he laughed. “It’ll be nice to stay in touch.”

Your smile was bright in the dimness of the evening. You can’t imagine not staying in touch with Chris. The longest you had ever gone was during his Air Force training. He checked in with his parents when he first arrived and from then on it was sporadic. You were able to send him letters though and tried to write him every week though your own schooling and an apprenticeship at the Louvre had taken up a lot of time but that was how your relationship was. 

No matter where you were in life, across the world or hovering above it in the International Space Station, you always kept in touch. It’ll be harder now considering he’s going farther than ever before but you’ll make it work. 

Chris would be back by next November and his mom was already planning a big party for his return, one he’s certain you’ll be invited to. Though you haven’t seen his parents in a while you still kept in touch with them from time to time seeing as they were still friends with your own parents.

“It’s crazy to think you’re about to go to Mars.” 

Chris swipes a palm down his mouth, leaning his elbows against the table as he muses, “I know. Feels like I got the call yesterday.”

It was a night similar to this one, where Chris was in New York celebrating with you and other friends on his selection to be part of the Ares III mission. He had been working at NASA for a few years, doing biomedical research in their center in Virginia and now he was about a month out from spending two years training for his long term mission to Mars. 

He stayed at your apartment that night, continuing the celebration in your own private way. You had come a long way from learning to kiss with Chris. It wasn’t a big deal, neither was it the first time you had sex with each other. It was a special dynamic that worked for the two of you, one you don’t think you could have pulled off with anyone else. With Chris you had trust that was built up over the years. He was safe, he was your friend and this was nothing more than just sex. 

It didn’t happen too often, a couple of times here and there. You both dated a few people over the years and even though you were single at the moment you thought about the promise you made to each other as teens. “If we’re not married to other people by the time we’re thirty let’s promise we’ll marry each other.” Such a silly promise but thirty seemed so far away at the time. 

Chris couldn’t make it to celebrate for your thirtieth birthday but you did get a card from him where he joked that the wedding was off. You were in a long term relationship, one that Chris thought would lead to marriage but you ended things a year later. It wasn’t there; that natural spark that made your heart skip a beat every time they smiled brighter than the sun, or when their eyes sparkled like stars in the night every time they looked at you. 

You walked through the streets with Chris after dinner, casually strolling back towards your apartment and stretching out the inevitable goodbye that you didn’t want to say. It was so good to be with him in person again, not realizing how badly you missed it until the hours started ticking closer towards him leaving. By the time you get to your apartment Chris decided to come up stairs, wanting to spend as much of his time with you as he could. 

Chris sits comfortably on your couch, cozied up beside a large pillow. He places his wine glass down on your coffee table, needing to gesticulate with both hands as he starts getting into talking about his research. He’s been published before in numerous academic journals and now he’s going on about how excited he is for his latest topic, musculoskeletal alterations and the effects of deep space travel. 

He’s cute when he really gets into it, crinkles pulling around the corner of his eyes as his whole face lights up. You let out a shaky breath, smiling even wider yourself as you watched the passion he had for science and learning, one that matched the level you had for art and preserving their history. 

Chris apologized for rambling on, taking a sip of wine to clear the dryness from his throat. 

“So, give me the lowdown… can you jerk off in space?” 

He covered his mouth to prevent the wine he was choking on from spitting out. You couldn’t help the sly smile on your face that cracked wider the redder he became. 

“Well?”

Chris cleared his throat again. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked down into his glass, chuckling a bit as he said, “The official stance from NASA is no comment so I’m going to stick with that.” 

“That’s not an answer!” You could barely hold a faux sneer before you broke into a smile. Teasing Chris was all in good fun, something that went both ways from the time you were young. 

You adjusted the way your legs were folded underneath you, brushing your knee against his leg. Chris lifted his arm up, a silent invitation for you to get closer and so you did, resting your head against him as his arm came around you.

Things had quieted down and you listened to the steady beat of his heart. This would be the last time you would see Chris for a long time. Your arm reached around to hold him for as long as you could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered against him. 

Chris’ chest sunk as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.” His arm squeezed a little tighter around you as he pressed his lips gently against your forehead. “Just look to the stars and I’ll be there.” 

His words brought a comforting smile to your face, one you shared with him as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Do you want to stay?”

The corner of his mouth tugs a little as Chris thinks about it. There’s nothing he really misses at his hotel more than he does you. The only reason he came to New York was to see you first before going home. 

“Yeah, I’d love to stay.”

You shifted yourself on top to straddle Chris, carding your fingers through his hair and taking in the gaze of his eyes that became pools of deep blue. You closed the distance between your lips, feeling his hands come around your back. Soft moans bubbled in your throat and soon you found yourself being carried to the bedroom. 

Clothes were discarded, lips were on skin that burned hotter than the stars. You writhe against him, thighs quivering around his head, reaching out to grip him by the hair, holding Chris in place as he coaxed out your release. His lips taste like you and he licks them again, savoring your sweetness as he crawls up your body. 

He tears open the condom, gathering your wetness on him as he slowly pushed in. A sinful moan falls from your lips as you feel the stretch of him inside you, inch by inch until he was fully seated. An experimental roll of his hips sets the pace for pleasure. 

Your hands graze up the curve of his arms, reaching his back and digging in half moon shapes into his skin with your nails as he thrusts into you.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, moaning as his hips snapped forward. His name fell from your lips, a sweet sound that he couldn’t deny he loved hearing. 

He changed his angle, hitting you with deeper, longer strokes. His mouth found your nipple, sucking at your peak as his hips gained speed; groaning and squeezing his eyes tightly as he fucked you, ready to explode.

“Shit!” Chris hissed, backing off quickly. You’re confused and concerned, sitting up and turning the light on beside your bed to see what was wrong. “The condom broke,” he said, still catching his breath.

Chris got up to discard it in the bathroom as you sat on the bed, crossing an arm over your chest, waiting nervously. When Chris walked back in the room he apologized for that, the stiffness of his length giving you relief that he hadn’t finished so you continued. Using your hands on him as he let out soft moans, distractedly opening another condom that you rolled down on him. You straddled him, leaning forward to capture his lips for a sweet kiss first before you lined yourself up and sank down on him. 

Soon enough you were riding waves of bliss together, gripping Chris as you clenched around him, burning white hot behind your eyes. He’s right behind you, on the edge of pleasure, exploding inside you like a supernova.

Dropping your head onto his chest, it felt like your body was made of overcooked noodles that splayed loosely against him as you were desperate to catch your breath, coming down from the heights you soared to. Chris’ arms hold you close against him, his lips languidly peppering kisses to your sheen covered skin. 

When his heartbeat returned to a steady pace Chris went to the bathroom to once again discard the condom and you followed behind him to use it. He went to the kitchen to get something to drink, bringing back an ice cold glass of water for you. 

Back in bed you cuddled together, with goosebumps breaking out on your skin as Chris’ fingertips graze gently up and down your arm. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to give in because when you wake up you know you’ll have to say goodbye and that’s not something you want to do. 

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” you murmured against him, as worry took root within your stomach. His quick and emphatic reply should have been enough but you couldn’t help yourself from needing to make sure you would still hear from him during the mission. “And call me? With the space Skype?”

“I promise,” he said, as a smile spread across his face. Chris’ hand stopped moving, settling on your arm and holding you close. 

“Promise me one more thing?” He hummed in response and you continued, “Stay safe up there.”

Chris tilted his head down and feeling him shift you looked up as he said, “I promise.”

In the moonlight his eyes sparkled like clear tropical waters. Slowly, a soft smile spread across your face as you stared at him. “I love you, Chris.” There was no romanticism behind it even after being together, just pure love for your friend. 

Chris exhaled, planting a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

Despite wanting to spend your remaining hours together awake you reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, tearfully parting in the morning. Two weeks later you watched as the space shuttle launched, with proud tears filling your eyes as Chris’ picture flashed on your screen along with the rest of the crew. Seeing that made you feel hopeful and overjoyed at the prospect of hearing from him soon.

“Chris… I’m pregnant.” It was a relief to finally tell him but you didn’t feel any better, uncertainty weighed heavy on your shoulders, crushing the space for your lungs to expand. Chris knows but now what?

He’s silent, his lips parted slightly and you don’t know if there’s a delay in the feed. Maybe you should have emailed it to him. You were going to at first and instead chose to word the importance of needing to speak to him in such a clandestine way that you were contacted by someone from NASA. Upon speaking to them they allowed your email to be dispatched and then you waited. 

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, his shoulders slumping down as he stared at your face through the screen. He didn’t have any doubts, you were always truthful with each other, but he still wondered how.

“We put on a new one, I thought…” 

“I thought we were good too,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. 

You weren’t just pregnant, you were pregnant with his child and based off of some quick calculations in his head you were nearing the end of your first trimester. “H-how are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Physically or…” Nervous laughter bubbles out of your throat. 

This was hard on you, the physical symptoms weren’t fun but you could manage. What was more difficult was not telling anyone. It was early enough in your pregnancy that you could hide it from your family. They still lived in Hartford and hadn’t been down to visit yet but you couldn’t avoid them forever. Work was a different story. You had to let your boss know you would have to modify your duties as working around solvents and other chemicals would not be safe.

There was never a doubt in your mind about keeping the baby. When you were younger you imagined having children by now but it didn’t work out that way. It was something you were okay with, finding life fulfilling in different ways. Work was incredible, you were able to travel and though your relationships hadn’t worked out in the past you didn’t hold on to any resentments. Life was always complete and now things were going to be different. 

You wanted to speak to Chris first before telling your family because you needed to know your expectations. Chris had a life of his own and you didn’t want your choice of having a baby to make him feel obligated in any way. You were an adult; a smart, independent woman and could do this on your own.

“I know this isn’t something we planned but…” Chris exhaled, the corners of his mouth lifting upward, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with than you... I promise.” 

Chris’ eyes glisten with tears as his smile grows and you find yourself brushing away your own from the corner of your eyes. It was comforting to know Chris will be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully it would have been weird if he wasn’t in some capacity considering how close you were. For now you have a lot of time on how you’re going to figure things out for the future.

After the call Chris reflected in silence, staring out of the giant triangular windows of one of the Hermes’ common areas into the vastness of space. He was lost in thought, startled by his name being called by a crewmate. He turned to see Mark whose bright smile fell with concern upon seeing Chris’ face, asking if he was alright.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Chris responded, his tone mournful in the realization he’ll be missing the birth. He accepted the congratulatory hug Mark gave him, sighing heavily as they separated. “I always thought I’d be there for that.” 

You were due in March and Chris hated the fact that he won't be there for the first nine months of his child’s life, moments and milestones he’ll never get back. He doesn’t like leaving this all on you. He knows you can do it but you shouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t pretend this isn’t hard but don’t think of it in terms of what you’re missing, look at what you’re gaining, what you have to look forward to when you come home.” Chris nodded, his smile trying to come back. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Mark teased. 

“I don’t. Y/N, she’s…” Chris’ face lights up as he thinks about you, which does not go unnoticed by Mark. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s always meant so much to me and now…” 

Mark gave Chris an honest smile as he spoke plainly, “And now you’re having a baby.” 

With a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear he affirmed, “Yeah… we are.” 

PART 2

[woahitslucyylu]

Some shoes.

Author’s Notes: I took a lot of time for myself, y’all and a bitch is back. It’s new year, love myself better vibes. I hope you enjoy this lovely late Christmas gift from Erik to everyone’s favorite baby mama, you. I’m going to spend the rest of this weekend catching up on comments and stories. If you think there’s something I should read, tag me! 

I love y’all so big! 

If you are interested in the timeline, this is before Thot-Ass Friends and Ass Out.

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“Where are you at?” Tia’s voice echoed through the empty SUV as you merged onto the exit ramp. 

“Going to meet E. He said he needed me to pick up some things he bought. You know he has no self control.” 

Your eyes scanned the busy intersection - the city was spreading and you found yourself dreaming about luxury suburbia with two story houses and well-manicured yards. The tiny town home that you rented was slowly becoming too small for your family of three. Elisha was scooting around and EJ spent his days building cushion forts and using your coffee table as a race track. 

“He be doing the most for your spoiled ass.” Tia snickered as the light changed and you followed the GPS through the mid-day traffic. “Okay, call me when you’re done. I want to try that new taco spot on 57th.”

“Okay, I’m getting close. Bye, girl.” Your voice dropped off as you studied the residential streets, lined with greenery, following the soft voice directing you to turn left in 600 feet. “Where in the hell am I meeting him? I know he’s not bringing to a bitch’s house.” You whispered to yourself as you turned into The Preserve at Saddle Meadows. 

The neighboorhood felt warm as you slowed - gazing at the homes that towered with big windows and bright siding. 

“Your destination is approaching.” The melodic voice broke your day dreams as you spotted Erik’s black G Wagon in the drive way - his thick frame leaning against the bumper as you pulled into the drive of a two story Spanish influenced home. Archways surrounded the terra-cotted tiled porch and the cream stucco sparkled in the bright mid-day sun. 

“I know this isn’t a bitch’s house, Erik.” You shouted as you shut your door - walking around to meet him in front of the two car garage. “Shut the hell up. You always coming in loud with your big head.” His thick finger pushed against your forehead as he moved close - his cologne filling your nose and flooding your pussy. 

“E, stop.” You played back, smacking his hand away as he reached for you, “Where’s the stuff? I’m meeting Tia for tacos.” 

“Woah, slow down, mama. The stuff’s inside. Come on.” Turning on his heel, he strided to the porch, opening the heavy wooden door, dramatically gesturing for you to walk through. 

Your eyes grew wide - the inside was just as breathtaking with shiny wood floors and iron banisters. You dreamed of an open floor plan - to be able to cook and hear the kids as they played was a dream that you were working towards, taking double shifts and freelance work to save for the future you were building for yourself. 

“Where’s the furniture?” You suddenly noticed the emptiness - your voice echoing in the expanse as you wandered into the living room - your feet bouncing against the plush carpet. 

“You have to pick it out, baby girl.” 

“What?” You paused, turning to face him, as you stared at the tiled built ins and envisioned hidden toy storage and lots of plants. “I said you have to pick it out, ma. The appliances too - I ain’t know if you want gas or electric. I don’t know what you prefer when you whipping up those five star dinners for ya boy.” Erik moved beside you, fishing in his pockets for the keys - his muscular frame filling your presence as you savored his closeness. “Here.” The key chain held two identical keys. “Merry Christmas.” He leaned close, dropping his head as he kissed you softly - his lips massaging yours with tenderness. 

“Is this house yours?” You mumbled softly as you held the keys in your palm. “Nah, ma, it’s yours.” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, “I see how hard you work. You gave me two beautiful lives. I have to take care of you.” His hands groped your waist, sliding over your hips - his palms resting on your plump cheeks. “I don’t deserve you or my kids, but you deserve this.” 

You swallowed thickly, the words dry in your mouth, leaving you speechless as you leaned into him - your arms circling his waist and squeezing. “I feel bad now.” A coy smile spread over your face as you pulled back, gazing into his eyes. 

“Why?” 

“You got me a house. I got you some shoes. I’ll never hear the end of this.”