#guide for cleaning concrete floors

[954pressurecleaning]

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[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on "Epoxy Shine," where we delve into the transformative power of epoxy flooring solutions. In today’s design-driven world, achieving a polished and durable floor is essential for both residential and commercial spaces. Epoxy coatings not only elevate the aesthetic appeal but also provide long-lasting protection against wear and tear. Whether you’re considering a modern upgrade for your home or a robust flooring solution for a bustling business, epoxy shines as a versatile choice that meets a variety of needs. In the following sections, we’ll explore innovative flooring solutions, focusing on the benefits of epoxy flake flooring, which combines functionality with style for a stunning finish that can withstand the test of time. 

Epoxy Shine

When it comes to achieving a brilliant and long-lasting finish, epoxy shine is the ideal solution for various flooring needs. Known for its incredible durability and aesthetic appeal, epoxy shine enhances the overall beauty of a space while providing a protective layer that withstands wear and tear.

The key to attaining that stunning epoxy shine lies in the application process. Proper surface preparation, quality materials, and skilled application techniques combine to create a glossy finish that can transform mundane concrete floors into vibrant, eye-catching surfaces. This shine doesn’t just elevate the design; it also reflects light, making spaces appear larger and more inviting.

Moreover, epoxy shine is not just about looks; it offers significant functional benefits too. The glossy surface is resistant to stains, chemicals, and moisture, making it an excellent choice for high-traffic areas such as garages, warehouses, and commercial spaces. Whether for aesthetic or practical purposes, ensuring your floors have that perfect epoxy shine can significantly enhance your property's value and appeal.

Floor Solutions

When it comes to choosing the right floor solutions, there are numerous options available that cater to various needs and preferences. Whether you are going for aesthetic appeal, durability, or maintenance ease, understanding the different types of flooring can significantly impact your choice.

One popular choice for many homeowners and businesses is epoxy flooring. This option provides a sleek and modern look while ensuring high durability and resistance to wear and tear. Epoxy shine not only enhances the floor's visual appeal but also makes it easier to clean and maintain over time.

Additionally, epoxy flake floors are gaining traction due to their unique aesthetic and customization options. They allow for a blend of colors and textures, giving homeowners the flexibility to create a more personalized look for their spaces. With such a wide array of flooring solutions, it's essential to consider factors like budget, usage, and design preferences before making a decision.

Flooring Solutions

When it comes to choosing the perfect flooring for your space, the options can be overwhelming. Flooring solutions are essential for both aesthetic and functional purposes, ensuring that your space not only looks great but also serves its intended function. From residential to commercial applications, the right flooring choice can make all the difference.

One popular choice in the realm of flooring solutions is epoxy flake floor systems. This type of flooring combines durability and design flexibility, making it a favorite among many homeowners and business owners. With a wide range of colors and patterns available, epoxy flake flooring can be customized to fit any space, providing a unique look that stands out.

For those seeking a brilliant shine, epoxy shine finishes can elevate your flooring game. These finishes not only provide a glossy look but also protect the flooring from wear and tear. Utilizing a performing solution like epoxy ensures that your floors can handle heavy foot traffic while maintaining their stunning appearance.

Epoxy Flake Floor

When it comes to durable and aesthetically pleasing flooring options, epoxy flake floors stand out as a superior choice. These floors are crafted using an epoxy resin mixed with decorative flakes, resulting in a unique finish that is both functional and visually appealing. The versatility of this flooring solution allows it to be used in various settings, from residential garages to commercial spaces.

The main advantage of epoxy flake floors is their resistance to impacts, chemicals, and stains, making them ideal for high-traffic areas. Their seamless nature prevents dirt and grime accumulation, offering a low-maintenance solution that is easy to clean. Furthermore, the aesthetic flexibility of the colored flakes lets homeowners and business owners customize their floors to match existing designs and personal preferences.

In addition to their durability and style, epoxy flake floors also contribute to improved safety. The texture of the flakes can enhance slip resistance, making them a practical choice for spaces where moisture is common. Whether you're looking to upgrade your garage or create a modern showroom, epoxy flake flooring provides an excellent combination of beauty, resilience, and safety.

[vonlycsnn]

Hello! May I request a Von lycaon x Gn Reader who is blind but has a optimistic personality? One who uses to love the simple things in life like feeling the sun, taking walks and enjoying any meals

Thank you so much! ♡

Have a nice day •u<~☆

♡ — A RAY OF SUNSHINE

~ VON LYCAON X BLIND (GN) READER.

SUMMARY: You spend your usual morning with your lover, Lycaon. He can't help but appreciate how optimistic you are despite your disability.

cw/tw: none.

A/N: I love this idea so much! I tried to do as much research as i possibly could for this, so my sincere apologies if i got anything wrong. Thank you for the kind words and for the request, I hope you enjoy reading this!

Faint footsteps can be heard approaching your bedroom. Soon after, the door gently opened. It made a quiet but noticeable squeak. But you were too deep in your sleep to hear any of it. The footsteps walked across the room and stopped.

 

Clawed hands grabbed the curtains and drew them open, revealing the morning view outside. You were suddenly hit by the sensation of warmth on your bare skin. You whined in protest. Knowing exactly what that meant.

 

You opened your eyes to see the blurry environment around you, folding the pillow you were laying on as a way to tell your beloved butler that you didn't want to get up just yet.

 

You hear a chuckle from your left ear, the bed sheets folded as you felt someone sitting on the edge of the bed. Then you felt someone breathing close to your neck; you couldn't help but giggle at how it feels.

 

"It's time to wake up, dear." Lycaon whispered.

 

You adjusted your position to face him, trying your best find his face with your hands. He chuckled once more and guided your hands to his fluffy cheeks. Immediately after you moved your fingers to feel his fur, he smiled.

 

"Mm...enjoying yourself?" The thiren asked. You merely nodded as you were still too sleepy to say anything just yet. You felt something brush against your legs, assuming that it's Lycaon's tail wagging.

 

You kept running your fingers against his fur for what seemed like minutes until you felt arms behind your back, lifting you up from your land of peace. "Lycaon nooo..." You lazily protested.

 

"Come on now. I've made you breakfast, fresh and warm for you to enjoy." He explains as he approaches the dining room.

 

The dining table was neatly organized, and the floors were spotless—a perfect start to your day. Oh, if only you could appreciate the effort he has put into cleaning this area...

 

He carefully put you down and guided you to your seat. As soon as you sat down, you smelt a delicious scent in front of you. You couldn't help but smile big when you realized what it was.

 

"I've made your favorite; french toast with a few slices of bacon."

 

You heard utensils being grabbed by the thiren; a hand gently moved your head in his direction. All you could see was a blurry white figure in front of you, but nevertheless you smiled softly.

 

"Open your mouth, love."

 

You obliged, happily receiving the food he's feeding you. Once you tasted the sweetness of the French toast and the salty bacon, you felt like you were sent to heaven. Lycaon's cooking is always so good.

 

As he was feeding you, he begins to reminisce about the past. Back when the two of you were merely friends.

 

—

 

"Master, you mustn't walk too far."

 

You heard him warning you; all you gave him was a smile and a giggle. One step...two step...You walked forward. Shoes removed to feel the concrete floor beneath your foot, and the cold air touched your face gently...It was soothing.

 

"Don't worry, Lycaon. I'm just going to stay right here." You assured him. His mouth opened, clearly wanting to say something, but he didn't. He merely stood there, waiting for you to finish your moment.

 

"The rooftop of this building...it's my favorite. Open spaces like these in general are a delight to be in."

 

You closed your eyes, strengthening your other senses. Being blind is not easy by any means. You remember the day you cried your eyes out as a child over the fact that you couldn't recognize simple shapes and figures. 

 

Your parents did everything in their power to help you; of course you were grateful for their efforts. But they knew that someday they couldn't help you anymore; that's why they hired the best servant they know: Von Lycaon from Victoria Housekeeping Co.

 

Someone who could help you with everyday needs, someone who could keep you safe from the dangers of the outside world—you were truly thankful for all he has done.

 

Despite your early disappointments and everyday struggles, you learned to accept how you are and enjoy your life with the things you already had. You were born with this condition. You couldn't change anything, and that's okay, even if you wanted to enjoy life like the rest of the world.

 

The thiren stayed silent, admiring you from afar. You were always the cheerful type, but hearing you say such optimistic words despite the disability you were given with...it was inspiring.

 

Lycaon smiled, and he walked towards you. You felt a hand on your shoulder.

 

"Then I'll bring you here more frequently if you'd like." Lycaon suggested.

 

You smiled big, nodding vigorously.

You couldn't be happier.

[peachy-princess777]

can i request a rafe cameron x reader where they're basically best friends but they don't act like it and topper and kelce always tease them abt it. one day, rafe got into a fight and reader gets so worried and patches him up and thats when rafe realizes that he's actually in love with her because he never shows this much affection and acts so soft only towards her and he basically starts going feral cause he hates the idea of him being in love so he pushes reader away and it all ends up with him confessing his love to her and plss make it a bit angstyyyy pls, thanks love 🩷🫂

Yes yes yesssss

I'm not sure if this is angsty enough because I, personally,don't really like how it turned out but I didn't know what else to write to make it better HOPEFULLY you like it.. bottoms up🥸

In the dimly lit garage, the smell of grease and gasoline was a familiar embrace for Rafe Cameron. He had spent countless hours here, his hands stained with oil, elbow-deep in the guts of a car that had more stories than the town library. His eyes focused on the engine in front of him, he barely noticed the soft hum of the radio playing a classic rock song. The world outside could be chaos, but in here, it was just him and the steel beasts that whispered their secrets to him.

Y/N, his best friend since childhood, walked in, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor. She held a first-aid kit tightly to her chest, a look of concern etched on her face. "Rafe, you okay?" she called out, her voice cutting through the solitude.

Rafe looked up, his eyes bloodshot from the dust and his jaw tight from the fight. He nodded curtly, not quite meeting her gaze. "It's nothing," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

Y/N approached him, setting the first-aid kit on the workbench. She studied his bruised face, her thumb brushing against his jawline gently. "You've got a nasty cut here," she murmured, her voice soothing despite the tension in the air. "Let me clean it up."

Rafe flinched at her touch, not used to such tenderness from her. The fight had left him raw, both physically and emotionally. He'd been trying to play it cool, but the pain in his chest was unmistakable. "I can do it," he said gruffly, reaching for the kit.

But Y/N was insistent. She took his hand in hers, her grip surprisingly firm. "Sit down," she ordered gently, guiding him to a stool. "You're in no condition to be patching yourself up." Her eyes searched his, a question lingering unspoken. Rafe sat, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and comfort.

With careful precision, she cleaned the wound, the sting of antiseptic bringing him back to reality. He watched her, noticing the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the gentle way she dabbed at his skin. It was a stark contrast to the fiery spirit he'd seen in her so many times before. For a moment, he felt something shift within him, something warm and terrifying.

Their friends, Topper and Kelce, stumbled in, laughter echoing off the garage walls. They'd been out celebrating their victory at the local dive bar, and the smell of cheap beer and sweat trailed them like a fog. "Looks like someone's been playing a little too rough," Topper said, his grin wide and teasing. Kelce elbowed him in the ribs. "Leave the lovebirds alone."

Y/N's cheeks flushed at their banter, and she tried to play it off with a laugh, but the weight of their words hit Rafe like a sledgehammer. He'd never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with anyone, especially not Y/N. The thought of them being seen as a couple made his stomach twist into knots. He jerked his hand away from hers, the sudden movement causing her to drop the cotton swab.

"I said I can handle it," he snapped, his voice echoing in the garage. The music on the radio seemed to fade into the background as the tension grew palpable.

Y/N took a step back, her eyes wide. "I'm just trying to help," she said softly, picking up the dropped swab.

Rafe knew he was being an ass, but he couldn't stop the anger that bubbled up inside him. "I don't need your help," he said, grabbing the first-aid kit. His hands trembled as he clumsily applied a bandage to his own wound, the pain a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil.

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, the teasing smiles wiped from their faces. They'd never seen Rafe like this before—so volatile, so...vulnerable. They knew better than to push it. With a shrug, Topper clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "Alright, man. If you're good, we're gonna head out." Kelce nodded in agreement, and the two of them left the garage, the door slamming shut behind them.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Y/N stared at the closed door, her heart racing. She felt like she'd been slapped in the face, the sting of rejection burning like the antiseptic she'd just applied to Rafe's wound. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "I'll leave you to it."

Rafe watched her retreating back, his own heart pounding like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He hated the way she looked at him, like he was something breakable, something she had to handle with care. It made him feel weak, and weakness was not a luxury he could afford. Not here, not in Outer Banks, where the only law was survival of the fittest.

He turned back to the engine, his hands moving mechanically as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest. The fight had been just another Tuesday night, a bar brawl over a drunken comment about his family's past. But Y/N's touch had changed everything. It had stirred feelings he'd buried deep, feelings he didn't know how to deal with.

As the night wore on, Rafe found himself unable to shake the encounter. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her worried gaze, felt the softness of her skin against his. It was infuriating. He'd never been the type to get tangled up in emotions—his life was about keeping it simple, about not letting anyone get too close. But Y/N had been there for him since they were kids, and she'd always had a way of sneaking under his armor.

For the next few days, Rafe avoided Y/N like the plague. He took on extra shifts at the garage, working until his hands were raw and his eyes burned with exhaustion. He picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at him sideways, channeling his confusion and fear into his fists. The bruises on his knuckles were a stark reminder of the tumultuous storm brewing inside him.

Y/N noticed the change immediately. She'd catch glimpses of him from afar, his broad shoulders hunched as he worked on cars, his eyes dark and distant. The playful banter between them had gone silent, replaced by terse nods and curt responses. It was as if the moment of tenderness in the garage had never happened.

Her heart ached for him, but she knew better than to push. Rafe had always been a closed book, and she respected his need for space. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done something wrong, that she'd overstepped some invisible line. She found herself lost in thought, replaying the scene over and over again in her mind, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything had changed.

Rafe's demeanor grew more and more distant as the days dragged on. He'd always been a man of few words, but now his silence was deafening. He'd come home from work, his eyes glazed over, and slump onto the couch without a word. The TV droned on in the background, but he never seemed to watch it, lost in his own world of turmoil.

Y/N tried to give him space, but it was like walking on eggshells. Every time she offered a gentle greeting or a casual question, he'd respond with a grunt or a one-word answer. It was as if she was invisible, and it was breaking her heart. She'd never seen Rafe like this—so lost, so...defeated.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the garage, she couldn't take it anymore. The house was quiet, the only sound the hum of the fridge. She found Rafe sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The sight of him like this, so abroken, filled her with a determination she hadn't felt in days.

With a deep breath, she approached him, her hand shaking slightly as she placed her palm on his shoulder. "Rafe," she said softly, "we need to talk."

He flinched at her touch, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. For a moment, she saw a flicker of something—pain, fear, longing?—before his usual stoic mask slammed back into place. "There's nothing to talk about," he said, his voice cold and dismissive.

Y/N gritted her teeth, refusing to let him push her away again. "You've been acting like a jerk since the night of the fight," she said, her voice steady. "What's going on with you?"

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his grip on the whiskey bottle tightening. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N rolled her eyes, her frustration boiling over. "You've been pushing me away, ignoring me, acting like I'm some kind of...some kind of burden," she spat out. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Rafe shot to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. "You didn't do anything," he roared, slamming his fist on the table. The bottle wobbled but didn't fall. "You're not the problem, Y/N. I am."

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, unsure of what to say. Rafe never talked about his feelings, never let anyone in that deep. But she could see the torment in his eyes, the desperation in his clenched fists. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean that I don't know how to deal with this," he said, gesturing wildly between them. "With...this." His voice was thick with emotion, the words catching in his throat like a noose tightening.

Y/N's heart raced as she tried to piece together what he was saying. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Rafe took a step towards her, his eyes blazing with something she'd never seen before. "I'm talking about the fact that every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I want to...to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you how much you mean to me!" His voice grew louder with each word, the whiskey sloshing in the bottle he still gripped in his hand.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was not what she'd expected. "Rafe," she began, but he cut her off.

"And then what?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger. "You're going to tell me you don't feel the same? That I'm just some dumb, lovesick fool?"

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide. She'd always known there was more to Rafe than he let on, but this raw vulnerability was something she'd never seen before. It was like looking at a feral animal that had been caged for too long—part of her wanted to run, but another part was drawn to the pain she saw in his eyes. "Rafe," she said carefully, "you're not a fool."

He took another step closer, his chest heaving. "Then why can't you just leave it?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why do you have to keep pushing?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her hand rising to rest on his chest. She could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath her palm. "Because, Rafe," she said, her voice barely audible, "I'm in love with you too

."

The words hung in the air like a confession in a silent church, resonating through the garage and echoing in the quiet night outside. Rafe's eyes searched hers, disbelief and hope warring within him. He'd never expected this, never allowed himself to imagine it. His heart raced like a wild horse, straining against the reins of his control.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to respond, but all he could do was stand there, frozen. The whiskey bottle slipped from his grasp, shattering on the floor, the sound a metaphor for the walls he'd built around his heart. The alcohol pooled around their feet, a symbol of the chaos that had just been unleashed.

Rafe stared at her, his chest tightening. The room spun around him, the smell of gasoline and grease mixing with the faint scent of her perfume—a sweet, flowery scent that had haunted his dreams for so long. He didn't know how to react, didn't know what to do with the love she'd just laid bare in front of him. It was too much, too overwhelming.

But Y/N didn't back down. She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "I've been in love with you for ages," she said, her voice steady. "I just didn't know how to tell you without breaking us apart."

Rafe's chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of his emotions. He wanted to believe her, to let himself feel the warmth of her love, but fear held him back. "What if it's not real?" he choked out. "What if it's just...just because you've known me so long?"

Y/N's hand moved up to cradle his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "It's real," she whispered. "I know you're scared, but I'm not going anywhere."

Rafe's eyes searched hers, desperation and doubt warring within him. He'd spent his whole life pushing people away, afraid to get too close, afraid to get hurt. But Y/N had always been there, a constant in the ever-changing landscape of his life. Her love was the one thing he hadn't expected, and the one thing he didn't know how to reject.

"Rafe," she said, her voice a gentle caress, "I'm not asking you to change who you are. I just want you to know that I'm here, that I see you. All of you."

Rafe's breath hitched, the warmth of her hand seeping into his skin. The fight, the whiskey, the weight of his unspoken feelings—it all crashed down on him like a wave. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he took a shaky breath. "What if I don't know how to love you?" he admitted, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

Y/N's thumb traced his jawline, her eyes never leaving his. "You already do," she said softly. "You just need to let yourself feel it."

Rafe closed his eyes again for a second before opening them up again, looking into the depths of hers. He could see the truth in her words, feel it in the way her hand trembled against his skin. He didn't know how to navigate this new terrain of emotions, but the thought of losing her was suddenly unbearable. He leaned into her touch, his body yearning for the comfort she offered.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay." It was all he could manage, but it was enough. Y/N's smile was like the sun breaking through a storm, lighting up the room.

They stood there for a moment, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. Rafe's heart hammered against his ribs as he felt Y/N's hand slip away from his cheek. He reached out, his own hand trembling, and took hers in his. Her skin was soft, a stark contrast to the calloused roughness of his own. For a brief moment, he felt like he could conquer the world.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to push you away."

Y/N squeezed his hand, the warmth of her touch grounding him. "It's okay," she said, her voice gentle. "I just want to be here for you."

Rafe's eyes searched hers, finding comfort in the familiar pools of kindness. He'd never let anyone in this deep before, but with Y/N, it felt...right. "I don't know how to do this," he confessed, his voice thick with vulnerability.

Y/N stepped closer, her free hand resting on his chest, right over his racing heart. "You don't have to," she assured him. "We'll figure it out..together."

[nurse-floyd]

Beyond the Finish Line

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x driver!reader

Prompt: driver!reader and gets attacked during race weekend for @pretzelcat4-blog

Tag List: @pretzelcat4-blog @vivwritesfics @faithshouseofchaos @biancathecool @adventuringblind @danielshouseofwhores

The paddock had buzzed with activity and bodies after the race, a mixture of celebration and exhaustion as the pit crews began to pack up and media crews scrambled to get last-minute interviews. You had had a decent race, earning points alongside Daniel for the team. You had been eager to get to the debriefing to review your progress and see what you could improve on for the next race. You had made your way through the back of the motorhomes, hoping to avoid the large crowds of people when you had felt a blow to the back of your head. It had caught you unaware as you fell forward to the ground, your head bouncing off the concrete. There had been a few more blows before your attacker had run off, leaving you stunned and disoriented as you tried to pick yourself up off the ground.

You had stumbled up the stairs, trying to hide the bruises you were sure were forming on your face as best as you could with your baseball cap as you entered the debriefing room. The room had fallen silent as you had entered, all eyes turning towards you.

“Nice of you to join us,” your team boss had spat from his spot at the front of the room, his irritation clear.

“I-I’m sorry…” you had tried to keep your voice steady, but it had cracked.

As soon as his gaze had met your battered appearance, his anger had dissipated. “What the hell happened to you?” His eyes had widened as he took in the sight of your ripped clothing and split lip that had slowly oozed with blood.

Daniel had been at your side immediately, his chair almost crashing to the floor in his attempt to get to you. His face had been full of concern as his hands had hovered above your body, afraid to touch and hurt you more. “You’re hurt! What happened?”

“I-I’m fine,” you had protested weakly, trying to stay upright despite the dizziness that had overwhelmed your senses. Your voice had been barely above a whisper, clearly still shocked by the attack.

Danny had shot your team principal a desperate look before his full attention had returned to you. “You’re not fine, sweetheart. We need to get you looked at, now.”

Your team principal’s expression had changed, his annoyance turning into concern. “Get her out of here; we’ll deal with this later. Y/N, we need to make sure you’re okay.”

With Danny’s help, he had guided you out of the briefing room. He had guided you through the paddock toward the medical center, his arm securely around your shoulders, offering both physical support and a comforting presence. The paddock had been a blur as people had seemed to stare while Danny had carefully guided you towards the medical center, but you could barely focus on your surroundings, the pain in your head and wrist overwhelming your senses.

As the two of you had reached the building, Danny had quickly spoken with the staff, his urgency apparent. “We need some help. She’s been attacked.” He hadn’t left your side, even as the team of medical staff had tried to push him away. Not that you’d let go of the death grip you had on his hand, not wanting to be alone either. The medical team had sprung into action. They had guided you to a cubicle, where they had helped you up onto the bed.

Danny had remained close, his hand in yours. “I’ll be right here,” he had said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he had praised as one of the medics had tended to your swollen wrist and another had begun to clean up the split in your lip. He had watched, his eyes never leaving you, his hands occasionally brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy… sore,” you had admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Danny had nodded. “That’s to be expected with a concussion. Just keep focusing on me, yeah? We’ll get you through this.”

As the medic had finished wrapping your sprained wrist and checked your vital signs, Danny had continued to provide quiet reassurances. “You’re doing great. They’re almost done.”

When the medical team had finally been satisfied they’d stabilized you, they had left to update your manager, leaving you alone with Danny.

“Do you need anything?” he had asked. “Water? A snack?

You had shaken your head slightly. “Just… you being here. It helps.”

Danny had smiled, though his eyes had still been filled with concern. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He had pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, his presence a steadying comfort. As you had rested and the medication you had been given had kicked in, the pain and dizziness had begun to ease a little. Daniel’s support and his being at your side throughout had made the situation just that little bit more bearable. Despite the events of the day, his kindness and presence had provided relief in the midst of the commotion.

News of the attack had spread through the paddock, and your phone had begun blowing up with messages from other drivers. The atmosphere had shifted from the excitement of the race to shock and concern over what had happened to you. Drivers, pit crews, and journalists had begun to discuss the incident, various rumors about what had happened flying around. Your phone had been vibrating incessantly from where it had sat on the side table as messages and calls came through. Eventually, Danny had turned it off, saying you needed your rest and didn’t need the stress.

First to arrive was Lando. His face had been a mixture of worry and then relief when he had burst into the medical center. “Shit, I heard what happened but I didn’t believe it. Are you okay?” He had rushed to your side, his eyes scanning you for injuries and widening as he saw the multiple bruises on your face and strapped-up wrist.

“I’m fine, honestly,” you had replied, “just been a bit of a shit day.”

Lando took the other seat opposite Danny as he had gently grabbed hold of your uninjured hand. “You had us all worried,” he had glanced towards your teammate, who had nodded in agreement, his expression reflecting the severity of the situation. He sat with you for a few hours until he had to leave for his own team commitments.

Max had joined next with Charles; they both looked shaken as they entered the room, not knowing what to expect as they had heard all of the rumors surrounding your accident flying around the paddock. “We’re going to make sure we find who did this. We’ve got you,” Charles had reassured.

Max gave you one of his comforting hugs, the ones he knew you liked so much, seeking them out from your opponent whenever you could. “We’re all here for you, Y/N.”

The pair had stayed with you and Danny for a few hours, helping to keep your mind off things, which had been a welcome distraction from the pain.

Your team boss had been briefed by the medics and had arrived shortly after Max, Lando, and Charles had taken their leave. “We’ve got the police involved and they’ll want to talk to you when you’re feeling better. They’re reviewing security footage and security is being briefed for the next race to ensure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. For now, you need to take time to recover, and if that means skipping the next race, that’s what we need to do.”

You had known he wouldn’t address how he had spoken to you earlier, before he had realized you were hurt. No, he was too proud for that and had an image to uphold. While you were observed for a couple of hours, you had had a few other visitors, but Danny had been the one who had stayed by you the whole time, never leaving your side. You had eventually been allowed back your phone, albeit only for a moment as Danny had briefly left for the bathroom and you had been able to sneak a look. The influx of messages had been overwhelming, but the support and concern from everyone had been a small comfort in what had been an awful day.

As the hours had passed, the media had obviously gotten hold of what had happened, and your boss had ended up releasing a statement you knew you’d have to follow up on to show everyone you were okay. The doctors had been happy with your progress but had told you they still wanted to transfer you to the hospital for observation and a few more tests, so you had known you’d have to release something yourself before prying eyes and the media saw you.

Max had snapped a picture of the two of you, Danny stroking your hair back as he comforted you, and you both had thought this was a good photo to accompany your own statement for social media. Maybe it hadn’t been the soft launch the two of you had planned, but something good had to come out of the day you’d had.

[captainlondonman]

Skin Cage

Luke was desperate for a shit. He knew he’d never get home on time and he hated the idea of going into the bushes. As he rounded a corner to his relief he saw a public toilet set back slightly from the road. Generally these days they are all boarded up but he could see this one was open. He rushed in and saw that there were 3 cubicles but the one on the left and the right had a sign saying Out of Order and only the middle one seemed to be in use.

‘Thank God’ he said out loud. As he went to the cubicle he saw out of the corner of his eye two guys in jeans at the urinals but he couldn’t care what they might be doing as all he needed to do was have a crap. He shut the door and went to lock but the lock had been ripped off. Somehow he was able to sit on the loo and keep one foot pressed against the door.

After a few minutes he felt so relieved as he wiped himself clean. What he hadn’t noticed as he sat down and got on with his shit was that on each side of the cubicle was a hole in the partition. As he started to stand to hoist up his boxers he could see a shadow through one of the holes and a pair of shiny boots facing him on the other side of the partition. Seconds later a hard long cock was being put through the hole. Luke had heard about Glory Holes and cruising in toilets but had never had the experience. Sometimes when he had heard guys talk about it he had found his own cock stirring in excitement. Now here he was with a good 8 inch dick all the way through the hole. The head was fully exposed, the foreskin pulled back. It was gleaming with some precum showing. Luke pulled his boxers down to reveal his own erect cock.

Suddenly he heard a voice on the other side.

‘What the fuck are doing mate. Me dick is there for a suck, get your mouth around and make sure you give me a bloody good blow job.’

Luke was at once scared but also so worked up at the command and seeing  the prick waiting for his mouth. He got down on his knees, feeling the cold concrete pissed stained floor and tentatively put his hand around the cock.

‘Forget the fucking hand, gimme yer mouth.’

Still holding the end of the guys dick Luke put his mouth around the head and licked the precum.

‘Like the taste boy eh?’

Luke did like the taste and the smell of a prick that hadn’t been washed for a couple of days and he could taste some piss as well. He opened his mouth wider and let the cock slip down further into his throat. The size was perfect and there was no need to gag. He kept pushing his mouth further towards the partition until he was tight up against it with the guys cock all the way down.

‘You’ve done this before, boy, getting a cock all the way down that gob of yours. So start sucking. I want you to swallow all my cum. ‘

Luke slowly took his mouth back up the shaft savouring the smell of piss and let it guide itself back down. He was getting off on this this sleaze in a public toilet. Why had he never down this before. He was always afraid of cottaging but the thrill was so great.

‘Get yer mouth going up and down quicker mate, I’ve a load of spunk to get out of me balls.’

Hearing the guy sound so dirty made Luke slide his mouth ever faster up and down the shaft whilst keeping his hand firmly clenched at the opening. He could hear the guy grunting on the other side, and the more Luke sucked the more he could feel the precum in his mouth.

‘Yer a fucking horny little bastard,’ the guy said’ making me so ready mate. I’m about to explode my cum down yer throat.’

Luke could feel the guy pressing tight against the hole and he could feel the cock veins throbbing as he sucked.

‘Get ready boy its coming. Fuckin hell’ and with that as he pushed his cock back and forth against the hole so his balls erupted creamy cum all the way down Luke’s throat

‘Shit man that’s what I call cum. Yer fucking great boy.’

As Luke was wiping the cum off his chin he realised he had not wanked himself off and as he went to sit on the bog to masturbate he suddenly saw another rigid hard cock sliding through the hole on the other side and again a pair of shiny boots facing into the partition.

‘Hearin the noise of me mate coming boy, you can do the same for me. Sucking him was a good first but as you can see mine’s bigger and thicker and will just about choke yer fucking throat. Put yer hand round it first and feel the thickness and the size of these dick veins.’

Luke didn’t know what to do but seeing this massive dick being offered up to him made his cock so hard he thought he might cum without wanking

‘Lick me head first. I like the feel man before you gag.’

Luke let his tongue get covered in spit and slowly started on the head which was pink and shiny and like a helmet. Judging by the slit there would be a heap load of cum to swallow. Opening his mouth as wide as possible he started to let the cock enter his throat but at first the size was too much and he started gagging.

‘I told you boy. Relax a bit and you’ll find it goes in easier. Take yer time as I want to feel it go right to the back of your throat.’

Luke did as he was told and inch by inch he changed his breathing and the shaft went further and further in, sliding easily with all Luke’s spit which was spilling out his mouth and down his chin.

‘That’s better boy you’ve got the hang of it. Let me feel yer lips rubbing against this filthy partition. Let me feel as if it’s not there and your mouth is tight in against me pubes.’

Luke kept his hand over the end of the shaft so he could balance to take in the full length. He had never taken such a cock as this but its massiveness was such a turn on he wanted the full length. He was not going to miss out  and this time  his own load of spunk erupt. As he started to let his hand move up and down his own shaft so the need to take the full length of the guys cock was more desperate.  He was sliding his mouth up and down the shaft quicker and quicker and as he did so he hand worked his own good sized dick.

‘I know yer fucking wanking boy I can hear your breathing but shit mate its making me so fucking ready and that mouth of yours is the best suck I’ve had in ages. I want you to come at the same time and hear your jism. Go on spunk it boy I’m ready.’

Luke could not contain it any longer and as his own cum shot out splatting against the partition so he let out a mighty orgasmic sound.

‘That’s it boy I’m coming now.’

Whilst Luke’s spunk was still hitting the partition so the guy let rip an avalanche of cum almost choking Luke who could not swallow quick enough with great wads spilling down his chin.

The guy withdrew his cock and the boots moved away. There seemed quietness as Luke took out his hankie to wipe his chin and the remainder of his own cum from his cock. He leant forward to pull up his trousers and that was the last he remembered as he blanked out as something hit his head with such force.

As Luke had stood up the two guys had kicked the door with their boots with full force smashing into Luke’s head.

The next thing Luke knew as he started to come round was that he felt cold and could hardly move his head. Slowly his eyes began to focus and open more. He firstly realised that he was totally naked and in a cage. The reason he could hardly move his head was that there was a hole in the cage that allowed his head through but was too small for him to remove it. The room he was in was dark and smelt of piss and damp. His hands were free but as his head was clamped there was very little he could do. As he looked down there was a bowl of water that he could just reach to drink out of.

‘Christ my head is so sore. I must be bruised to hell and I can feel blood in my mouth. Where the hell am I? What have I done to deserve this? Someone has to hear me.’

Luke started shouting at the top of his voice

‘Help me, help me will someone come and get me out of this?’

After shouting for several minutes and starting to feel hoarse, there was a blinding light. For several seconds he could see nothing and before he could open his eyes there was a thundering noise over his head.

As he opened his eyes slowly the noise was as loud as ever. With the head still looking down he made out a pair of shiny black high laced boots. He felt he had seen them before, yes that was it he saw them under the partition in the toilet block.He was just able to look upwards as to what was going on above him.  A guy with a baseball bat was banging it over the bars, and thumping the bat up and down, grinning from one side of his face to the other.

‘Wakey wakey you cock sucker.’

‘Stop it, stop it please’ Luke screamed over the noise, his ear drums almost bursting.

‘Oh we have a nice little gay guy here don’t we. Stop it please,’ the guy said trying to imitate Luke.

‘Why have you done this to me?’

Another guy in the corner said

‘Well you gave us a great blow job we thought we would keep you a bit longer. But you need to change your look a bit mate.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A bit preppy for us.’

 Luke looked more closely at the two guys. He had noticed as he rushed in for his shit that both were wearing boots and jeans but had not looked enough.

The two guys were in tight fitting bleachers as if the bleachers had been sprayed on they were so tight and not just their legs and thighs but their cocks and balls showed a huge package stuffed down one leg. They both had their high boots , one with red laces and one with yellow. Both had braces to match their laces with black Fred Perry T shirts. One wore a green A1 jacket the other was black Their heads were shaved and one had a scar all the way down one cheek. Skin 1 and Skin 2.

‘Time to leave you in the dark for a bit but don’t worry we will be back every hour.’ And with that they turned off the lights and left locking the door.

Sure enough one hour later they came back each with their baseball bat and started thumping them across the bars of the cage

‘Stop stop for Gods sake stop.’ Luke screamed

‘You need to get used to this boy.’

Out they went and sure enough every hour they came back  and ran the bats across the bars.

‘This is fucking great. The boy hates it.’

After 8 hours of this they returned again and started up.

‘I’m fucking loving this mate,’ Skin 1 shouted as he beat the bars

‘Fucking stop that fucking noise now.’ Luke shouted.

The skins stopped immediately.

‘Now that’s what we want to hear, a big of aggro in the voice. Say it again.’

‘Fucking stop it.’

‘Good boy.’

‘Now what’s this I see boy. A nice big piss puddle you have made.’

Luke hadn’t noticed but the noise had made him so worked up that he had peed himself and his piss was in a puddle under him.

‘Yer luck’s in boy. We just downed a few cans of lager and both of us are desperate for a piss. Seeing you’ve just pissed yerself then you won’t mind some of ours. A right golden shower is coming your way.’

Skin 1 and 2 unzipped their bleachers and pulled out their cocks. Luke could see they were the two pricks he had so enthusiastically sucked earlier. They stood in front of Luke and took aim at his head with their cocks.

‘Fuck I have a right load of piss here for you mate.’

And with that they both let rip with a heavy stream of bright yellow piss aiming it at Luke’s head and face.

‘Drink it up boy. You loved our cum so swallow our piss.’

Luke could not move his head in the cage as a torrent of pee cascaded down his face. He had no option but to lick it as it poured over his lips. At first it tasted acidic but after some had gone down the back of his throat there was something about being a sub, unable to escape with so much piss that he found himself starting to swallow. The Skins seeing this made sure their stream was directed at his mouth.

‘He fucking loves it. As good as our cum eh boy? Shit look at his cock he’s getting a bloody hard on. Getting a bit more like us and Christ me cock’s starting a boner seeing him. Need to get rid of this pee first.’

Both the Skins shook their cocks and stuffed them back into their bleachers, Skin 1 having more difficulty as he was the one with the thick cock and now semi hard.

‘Got some work to do now. Go get the clippers mate.’

His mate went out the room and came back with a shaver, razor and shaving cream.

‘Your hair is now stinking of our piss so best for you if you get rid’

‘No please don’t do anything to my hair’

‘We’ll fucking do what we want. You ain’t got much option in that cage and don’t fucking shake your head while I have me razor on you.’

Skin 1 got down on his knees in front of Luke who knew he had to obey in his cage. He took the shaver and started on Luke’s head working from the back to the front. Luke could see his hair falling on to the floor and was helpless.

It seemed no time until most had been removed. Skin 1 then sprayed the shaving foam all over his head.

‘Need to get rid of all this fucking stubble you got there.’

Luke could feel the razor tight against his head and a couple of times felt the razor cut his scalp.

‘A couple of cuts wont do you any harm. In fact better for a skin.’

After half an hour Skin 1 sat back and looked

‘I’ve done a fucking great job there boy. Have a look. He walked over and picked up a mirror putting in front of Luke.

 ‘Oh my God I look just like the two of you.’

Fucking right mate what did you think. You’re gonna be one of us. Need to clean you up a bit. He walked over to the wall where a hose was hung on the wall. Unravelling he brought over to the cage and then walked back and turned on the water. He aimed the cold water at Luke at full power and Luke almost froze as the water splashed against him.

‘Stop please, I’m clean now.’

 The water was turned off

‘So now we are gonna leave you for a while. Time to get dressed. Your clothes are on that chair. I’m gonna unlock the cage and let you out. We’ll lock the door so you won’t be getting out. Luke could feel the cage door’s padlocked being undone and the padlock that had made his headstuck in the round opening.

Luke felt he had no strength to do anything and just laid  there at the open cage door.

‘See you later boy’ the Skins said as they went out locking the door

Luke slowly clambered out the cage feeling stiff and slightly disorientated. As he stood up, naked he saw clothes piled on the chair and in front a pair of high lace up boots, It all looked the same gear as the skins.

Luke was cold from the blasting of water and wanted to get into the clothes quickly no matter what he might look like. At the top of the pile was a black Fred Perry T shirt like the other two which was a tight fit but showed off his torso well. They must have had some idea of his size. Next the bleachers. He saw they had a zip back and front. As he pulled them on they were tight to his legs and thighs and as he pulled them up it felt good, so good that his cock started hardening. He pushed it down the inside of his leg making a large obvious bulge. The more it rubbed against the bleached denim the more it got bigger. He attached the black braces which seem to pull up the bleachers even more . ‘Christ what a package I have’ Luke thought staring down at his fully hard cock. He then pulled on the thick white socks which came up to almost his knees and sitting on the chair he forced his feet into the shiny black boots carefully lacing up as though he had done it many times before. Finally he put on the A1 green bomber jacket. He felt so great.

‘Where was that mirror?’ He picked it up from the floor and made sure he ran it over his body so he could see himself. Something suddenly snapped inside him. ‘I’m fucking Luke the skin.’  He had a large bruise down one side of his face from the cubicle door being rammed into him but now it made him even more like a  fucking rough skin. “No more fucking pansy boy for me. I’m up for some action and time those guys got what’s coming to them. He rubbed his crotch examining the bulge. Shit man just hope I can pull this out for my revenge.’

He heard the key turn in the door and jumped back behind it ready for anyone to walk in and be dealt with. Skin 2 marched into the room expecting to see Luke wandering around the space. Luke closed in behind quickly putting his arm around Skin 2 in complete stranglehold, the guy chocking and unable to release the vice like grip. His head was skewered back and he was desperately trying to get air as the grip tightened. The guys arse was tight against Luke’s boner and the slight rubbing made his dick even harder.

‘Not so much a fucking boss now are you. What did you expect doing all this to me and making me dress like you. You wanted a fucking skin and let me tell you mate you’ve got one and one much harder than you. Can’t talk can you. I’d like to fucking strangle you.’ Skin 2 could only splutter and was at the point of passing out.

‘Don’t fucking think about it mate’ Luke shouted as he pushed Skin2 towards the cage. With his other arm he pushed the skins head downwards until it was pressed against the bars of the cage.

‘Gonna make a nice imprint of these bars on that fucking face of yours.’ He then ran the arm over the guys arse.

‘Nice bum you’ve got there and you know what that for. Right a good fuck and I see you have a rear zip so you’ve had it done before. This time my cock will split that arse of yours.’

Luke quickly undid the zip and the bleachers immediately parted revealing a nice dark hairy arse. Luke gave it a couple of sharp slaps making the skin wince with pain.

 ‘Shit you little fairy that ain’t painful’ and with that he slammed his hand with full force over his buttocks. ‘I wanna see that arse of yours tingling red for my cock.’

‘So you ain’t moving much. What that means  it you do wanna be fucked. Now get your legs nice an wide.’

As the skin did what he was told Luke undid his zip and pulled out his cock which was straining inside as it was so hard.

‘To make it easier for you let me gob some nice spit down my shaft’ Luke said and he released a huge gob onto his cock and then he rubbed it.

‘That’s nice nothing better than a slimy cock ready to fuck.’

With one hand firmly of the skin’s back keeping him fully bent over the cage, Luke used his other hand to direct his cock into the crack and loosening up the hole with a couple of his fingers.

‘Christ that hole of yours is desperate for my dick and by the feel of it you have had a few cocks up there in the past.’

 Luke took both hands and spread the skins cheeks apart ready to ram his cock in. The hole widened and Luke’s head slipped in the skin letting out a squeal of pain.

‘Fuck it man it’s not even all the way in. Now this is. With one great push Luke pushed his cock all the way up to the hilt..

‘Nice and juicy that hole of yours. Hope for your sake there’s no shit in there. Can you feel my pubes right up against that hairy arse of yours?’

The skin squealed but a squeal of delight.

‘Knew you’d love that you fucking little whore.’

As Luke said that the door opened and Skin 1 walked in.

‘Well you’ve changed you hungry skin. You look the part. Knew you would when you walked in to that bog. You are right up there mate so let’s see you get the rythmn going and fuck him hard.’ As he said this he was rubbing his crotch which was now half way down his legs and bulging thick.

‘I remember that dick of yours. Go on get it out and let’s see you wank while I roger your mate.’

‘We’re all mates now boy.’

‘or a start you can bloody well stop calling me boy if that’s the case.’

‘Ok man give it to him

‘Seeing that meaty cock of your mate has me even more ready to shoot my load inside him.’

‘Then go on really slide it in and out.’

 Luke started ramming his prick in and out, faster and faster his breathing rapidly increasing, skin 2 grunting more and more, while skin 1’s hand was working his shaft faster having let a big gob of spit grease him up.

‘Ride him man, I’m ready’

With one final push Luke shot his hot spunk in fierce spurts right up Skin 2 arse. Skin one arched back and sprayed the floor with his cum. As Luke let Skin 2 move the bloke had come in his bleachers with a great wet patch showing and some cum oozing through.

‘That’s what I call a fuck man’ Skin 2 said.

‘You’ll have to stay here mate’ he said to Skin 2, ‘you cannae come out with all that cum showing on yer bleachers.’

‘So man stuff that dick back it but shake off the left overs first. We have a job to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Follow me we have to go and do some cottaging.’

The two went back to the same toilet where it had first all happened. This time Luke and Skin 1 stood facing the urinal. Skin 1 moved his hand over to rub Luke’s cock and it was no time until his shaft was a full boner.

‘That’s you ready now. You can go first.’

As he said this, so a young guy walked in and quickly looked at the two blokes at the urinal and went into the middle cubicle and shut the door.

‘I’m ready ‘Luke said unzipping his bleachers, ‘just hope he is’

 and the two walked into the left and right cubicle.

[storm-angel989]

can I request Valentino x daughter reader who unalived someone? How would he deal/react? Sorry if it's too much, you don't have to do it

💣anon

There are few things in this world that sober us faster than death. 

Around me, the city continued to buzzed with the sounds of the night. Cars honking, people yelling, the hum of electricity. Two hours ago I had been in the thicket of it, laughing and drinking. The flash of smiles across the dance floor, the movement of bodies under the flashing lights, the too loud music obscuring any outside noises. After all, no one wants to be interrupted while they’re having a good time. 

The events of the night began the way all bad relationships start. A brought drink late in the night. Sweet, sloppy kisses back and forth to the beat of the music, sweating in the heat on the dance floor. My father owned the majority, if not all of,  the clubs within the pride ring, and he’d tell you himself it was simple math. The more you dance, the more you drink. 

At first I thought I downed the last drink too quickly. His arm around my shoulder, a suggestion to get some fresh air. Ducking away from my friends, and the coolness of the back alleyway. More kisses, and the same sweetness on my tongue. 

I couldn’t be sure how long I had been out there, but something shifted as suddenly as it came on. Gentle hands turned rough, the feeling of gritty concrete against the bareskin of my back turned to dirt and hard ground. A sharp pain, a tug, and the sound of fabric as it tore from my body.

Growing up Valentino’s kid, Vox and Velvette’s niece, I had been taught to defend myself. When I turned eighteen and started going out to clubs, I had been properly outfitted with firm lectures on club safety and armed with the most advanced concealed protection.  The decision was instinctual at this point.  

My brain didn’t register reaching for the gun. Nor did I stop to think before I fired. His body collapsed onto mine and I scrambled away as quickly as I could. Around me, the night moved, oblivious to the actions in the alleyway. My mind raced and for the first time in my life,  I hit the SOS button on my VoxTech watch and sank down to the ground. My mind went numb and wrapped my arms around my knees as I stared at the would-be rapist.

To be the only child in the lives of the three most powerful beings in Pentagram city, it felt like forever before I heard my father’s voice booming voice from the street.

“Reader? Reader!” Valentino yelled. “God fucking damn it, bebita where are you?”

I tried to open my mouth but the words to answer caught in my throat. To my relief, his head turned and he raced towards me. Some part of me knew he was speaking, but my brain couldn’t make sense of it. 

Behind him, my Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette stood, surveying the scene. Neither looked particularly bothered by the fact that there was a body in the middle of the alleyway, or my gun on the ground next to it. 

“She’s in shock, Val. And probably still drunk. Or drugged,” my Aunt Velvette said as she knelt down next to me. “Come on baby, let’s get you home. Valentino, you get her home. Vox, let’s clean this shit up.” 

My father wrapped his arms under mine and pulled me to my feet. A silent limo ride home and as he stepped into the elevator, he hit the button for his studio. I glanced at him. 

“We’re going to get you cleaned up downstairs,” he said by way of explanation. “Housekeeping already brought down clean clothes. They’re in the nurses office. I want you to shower in one of the bedrooms and make your way down there, alright?”

I didn’t respond. As soon as the elevator door opened, I let him guide me into the eerily silent studio, down the dimly lit hallway to one of the countless hotel rooms. As soon as I was inside, he shut the door and locked it. 

“You’re going to strip all of your clothes, put them in the garbage. You’re going to shower with every product in that bathroom and wrap yourself in the bathrobe hanging behind the door. Do you understand me?” Valentino asked, not unkindly. “Daddy will take care of it, but I need you to do your part.” 

I nodded and stepped into the spotlessly clean bathroom. Numbly, I did exactly as he instructed. As I wrapped the robe around myself I caught my reflection in the mirror.

The eyes of a murderer stared back at me.

My stomach turned and I coughed bile and vodka into the sink. I heard the door knob turn and felt my father pull back my damp hair. 

“It’s alright honey, get it out,” he said softly. 

“Daddy, I killed someone,” I choked out as I turned to face him. “Daddy, I…”

“Shussh,bebita,” he interrupted gently. His hand cupped my chin in his hands and gently wiped my mouth. “It’s okay. Daddy took care of it.” 

“Daddy, he-”

“Your Uncle Vox caught it all on camera,” he continued. “The drugging. The almost rape. You did nothing more than defend yourself. Not that anyone will ever know that you had any involvement.”  He walked over to the garbage and tied the bag that contained the remains of my clothes. “Not that anyone will ask questions, but if they do sweetheart, you know nothing. The tapes from the surrounding areas are gone, understood? Now let’s go get you checked out, hm?” 

I let him guide me out of the bathroom and down the hall. Unlike all the other times I had been in there, the nurses office was completely empty of everyone except us. 

“Sit on the bed,” Valentino instructed. “I’m going to take a blood sample. See what’s in your system.”

I obeyed and a few seconds later, the door opened as Vox and Velvette walked in. 

“How’s our sweet girl doing?” Vox asked as he sat down on the bed next to me. He ran a hand down my back. “Honey?”

“Val, is she out of it or just in shock still?” Velvette asked as she locked the door behind her. 

“I’ll know in a moment, is it all taken care of?” Valentino asked as he walked over to me. 

Vox stood up and crossed his arms. “Of course it is, I…” his voice trailed off and he looked at me. “We can talk about it later.”

“Bebé Muñeca, give me your arm,” Valentino told me. 

I offered him both and he tugged up the sleeve of my left arm. A quick pinch later, he had a vial in his hand. He turned away and I watched as he added several droplets of my blood to a card. Instantly, a line turned bright green, purple and pink. 

“Interesting mix. Had to be in his salvia. Did you see them kissing or sharing drinks?” 

“Both,” Vox replied. “I’m sure he slipped it under the tongue. She wouldn’t have noticed anyway, it’s so sweet.”

Sweet. I thought the kisses tasted that way because of the drinks. Guess now I knew better. 

“Baby, do you want a shot or a drink?” Valentino asked as he turned to me. “I can give you the drugs to counteract it either way, but you choose.” 

I swallowed and looked at the three of them. “Daddy, I killed someone.”

I watched them exchange glances and a strange expression crossed my fathers face. Sadness? Concern? Slowly, he nodded. 

“Reader,” my Uncle Vox said softly. “Honey, look at me. Your daddy asked you a question.”

I turned my head back towards Vox and our eyes met. Warmness washed over me and my mind turned from numb to a peaceful mix of relaxation and happiness. Flashes of the night, dancing with friends, taking shots of vodka and climbing in the limo as I waved goodbye to my friends. My Aunt Velvette helping me into the shower and wrapping myself in my bathrobe. 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I asked.

“Babygirl, do you want a shot to help your hangover or do you want to drink it from a cup?” Vox asked. “What would feel better to your body?”

“Probably the shot? I feel tired. Auntie Vel, what time is it?” I asked. 

“It’s late,” she replied simply. “Almost bedtime. Once your Daddy gives you the shot, we’ll go up to bed.” She sat down next to me. 

“I don’t remember the car ride home,” I said as my father pulled my arm towards him. “How much did I have to drink?”

“Too much, sweetheart,” Valentino replied as he slid the needle into me. “But this will make you feel so much better.”

I felt the cool liquid slide into me and tiredness washed over my body. I leaned onto my Aunt Velvette’s shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt my fathers hands lift me up and the movement of his body as he carried me out of the room. 

“Don’t worry bebita,” I heard my father whisper.  “Daddy will always take care of you.”

[falling-star-cygnus]

HI HIII HELLO!!! -> your request has been moved over here, and i sincerely hope you enjoy!!

and i really like these ideas!! so thank you ever so much for the request, dear anonymous

i toyed with an idea like this before in my head, but i couldn't quite figure out how to articulate it ~so~ hopefully this'll help me out with Nekomata's characterization more

Spending so much time in Hollows, it's easy to forget that Billy can be harmed by things that aren't Ethereals.

Badly harmed.

Nekomata hadn't been a member of the Cunning Hares' for long, hardly long enough to be allowed into the tightly knit circle shared between the two Demara's and the android, but it's almost like that didn't matter. Especially not to Billy.

Even before she was a member, it was like he had already decided she deserved his kindness. It was a sort of bright-eyed, literally, brand of naivete that infuriated her. How dare he be so nice to her? How dare he show such kindness to the thiren that was leading them to their deaths.

How dare he make her feel so guilty, when he- when the Hares'-

Except it wasn't really the Hares' that had killed Miguel in the end, was it?

It was PubSec. And every drop of guilt Nekomata had felt was well deserved.

"Nekomata-!"

Back in the present, nowhere near a Hollow this time, she remembers being bodily shoved aside. Remembers clearly the choked down sound of pain and the crunch of metal that happened all in the blink of an eye.

Billy stood tall in front of Nekomata, stance squared as the jaws of this- yellow mutilated construction vehicle clamped around his left arm. It shook with the effort of keeping the thing from throwing him around like a chew toy- but he didn't falter.

"Kitty- you okay?" the android calls over his shoulder, his voice tight with strain and worry, "I didn't push you too hard, did I?"

"M-Me? What about you-?"

At worst her palms were a bit scraped up from hitting the asphalt, but that was more a result of the thiren's instinctual flailing than his protective insert. And he was the one in the jaws of the beast! Literally!

Care about yourself first, dummy-! Nekomata thinks venomously, shooting up to her paws as the mechanical thingamajig nearly throws her new teammate to the ground. She doesn't know what she was planning on doing, exactly, but Billy takes the decision out of her hands anyway.

He lines up a shot, somewhere between the shoulder and the armpit, and fires!

The bullet pierces the joint in a clean arc, and removes the limb with a sharp 'ting!' and a 'thud!' as it hits the concrete! It's jaws- is it the jaws? It looks more like a hand now that Nekomata isn't fearing for her life- they don't release Billy's arm until he's been nearly dragged to the floor with it.

Foolishly, the thiren had been hoping that the crunch of metal she heard was the teeth breaking on the android's build.

It wasn't.

It most definitely wasn't.

The plates of the android's arm tear like butter under the drag- ripping his red sleeve to ribbons and causing sparks to fly in firework-esque bursts. Billy brings his other hand up to one of the deeply bit teeth and tries to wrench it out without causing more damage.

Nekomata leaps to help, finally shaken out of her stupor by a startled mip of pain that Billy looses when one of the clamps catches on some wiring.

"Wait- Nekomata, your hands-"

Ah- right, the scrapes. She'd honestly forgotten about them, her gloves had absorbed most of the damage, after all- even if they'd been torn to shreds in the process.

The android tries to gently guide her hands away by the wrists, but Nekomata bullies her way closer with a hiss.

A familiar rush of anger clouds her head. His damn- friendliness. Why couldn't he just be mean?

"Billy, your arm," the thiren snaps back, tails lashing to better show her infuriation, "What're you worrying about me for, huh!? Look at you!"

"Wh- huh? But I'm fine," he exclaims, like a liar, "This can be fixed no problem! You can't!"

"That's not the point, dummy!"

Seriously! Not! The! Point! Nekomata punctuates each thought with a bap to his fluffy hair. How dare he! How. Dare. He! How dare he imply his injuries mattered any less! The nerve!

...huh. It was surprisingly soft.

Before she even realizes what she's doing, her hand simply- ruffles it from side to side. The android sputters in confusion under her ministrations.

"Nekomata!?"

"Shut up!"

Billy shuts up.

The two stay there in silence for a few more minutes, and eventually the thiren moves back to help him free what's left of his arm. He doesn't push her away this time, even though he's clearly not happy with the agitation of her scrapes.

He could be missing a limb- and he's worried about her. Her, who hasn't even been a member of the Hares' a full three months!

Stupid, big hearted, stupid android.

"You know," Nekomata starts, even though she doesn't really know where she's going with this, she just wants him to get it already, "it doesn't matter that you can be put together again. It still happened."

Billy stills under her hands with a surprised little noise, but she just tightens her grip and barrels on.

"You'll still remember it happened."

The last clamp finally gets pulled free, but it snips right through a wire on it's way out, and the android bites back a yelp as he stumbles forward. Nekomata is quick to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hold tight- half to keep him upright and half to keep him close.

"So please," she begs, burying her face into his jacket collar, "Please don't pretend that it didn't."

She can feel him jolt in her impromptu hug, and for a terrifying moment she's scared he might pull away and brush it all off again, the thiren couldn't really stop him if he truly wanted to- but Billy just brings his arm up to hug Nekomata back.

His grip is so unbelievably soft- feeble.

"...okay." he says, not a promise but an acknowledgement, "okay."

[eluxcastar]

A guide to surviving the House of the Hearth

── ୨୧：arlecchino & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: as the newest addition to the ever-growing house of the hearth, it is important that you are very acquainted with the rules of living there and what it means for your life from now on, for better and for worse

୨୧﹑genre :: I still don't know what this is

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, reader doesn't explicitly show up but is referenced as if they are being spoken to, reader is implied to be mute

୨୧﹑words :: 1k

I promise you honeys I am not dead but I did like go through the wringer a bit like I was PROPER living the a/n life I like got sick for a whole week then I fell and slid on concrete and it was a whole thing yet somehow my glasses stayed on?? anyway you did not come to hear about what an accident waiting to happen I am have this food

I started working on two separate fics that require the House of the Hearth recently which means that I had to come up with hcs for it. So, little one, I bring you the rulebook on how to survive your stint in the Tenth Harbinger's orphanage.

How did you even find your way there? Well, you were far too young to remember it, but it was something that caused Arlecchino to find you, uneager to be seen and hardly enthusiastic about conversation. Somehow she had managed to make herself seem more inviting than the underside of the bed you were hiding under, soft and inviting—a gentle guiding light holding out her hand to lead you to safety.

Rule one. While all children may be messy, they are not to leave their messes about. Any toys should be packed away, any spills should be cleaned, as should any utensils that happen to find their way into the hands of children. Nothing should be dirtier than it was when you found it, even if that means asking one of the matrons how to get blood out of fabric and the hardwood floors.

Rule two. You're to eat as much of your food as you can at the table. Not liking it is hardly an excuse, especially if you won't even try it. Receiving food at all is a luxury for orphans who would otherwise be uncared for and on their own. Picky eating will only get you in trouble. Even if you don't like it, stomaching it with a grimace is a break in your composure that will only be a detriment to you in the future.

Rule three. All children should be blessed with the ability to read and write. It is just as valuable as the skill to fight. Silent communication is very useful, also a reason to be familiar with sign language. The importance of knowledge should not be understated, because once you learn to read and write, you have access to anything and everything in literature, even things people don't want you to know as you peek quietly over their shoulder.

Rule four. It's a pivotal skill to know how to play nice even in the face of spats and disagreements with your playmates. If you can't, people won't like you, and you'll be all alone. Everyone is family, and family puts each other first, even if not related by blood. You have no family anymore and are in most desperate need of one. Everything else was just like you once, and they're always happy to accept a new little bird like you.

Rule five. Honestly is important, but only to the right people. Outsiders don't know the luxury of the House of the Hearth the way those inside do. They don't know how wonderful your childhood is now compared to before and they're raring to send you back to that. You shouldn't allow anyone to learn too much and shouldn't let someone ignorant of that speak on your behalf. The people should only know lies, while the matrons should know everything.

Rule six. Your bedtime is the same as everyone else's, and you are to sleep when told. A good night's rest is important when you spend the next day hard at work running and jumping. You need lots of energy to lug heavy weaponry around and it's always nice to have a bit more rest to get you through the day.

Rule seven. Slackers who don't so their chores are sent to timeout, and there no joy in timeout. No fidgeting, no sitting, no noises out of you, even the ones you make when you need something. You will have to stand in the corner and wait until a matron decides you're ready to cooperate and contribute like everyone else. But you won't need to be warned that way, will you?

Rule eight. Playtime is a gruelling thing sometimes and that's good. Children push, and adults are not easy to face. The world you will grow into will not be kind to you, and in return you mustn't be kind to it either. You should know how to handle yourself, and how to survive when the situation is against you, especially if you can't call for help. Those who can't play shouldn't expect to know how to live in a world that doesn't want them.

Rule nine. Fatui affairs are not for the eyes of children, and you shouldn't stick your nose in them. Once you know too much, there's no way to have your little mind, and the consequences are…well, you shouldn't listen to how bad it can be, even that is more than enough to scare you. You won't break that one, will you?

Rule ten. It is because of Father that you are able to live this life and treasure your childhood, and her word is more important than anything else. Arlecchino is your overseer and the one who enables you to live such a spoiled life as you do now that you live in the House of the Hearth. You must repay her generosity handsomely.

Children who don't make the cut are sent off to the Doctor, children who disobey the rules are sent off to the Doctor, and children who aren't grateful for the new lives they've been given are sent off to the Doctor and it is not to get a checkup. You don't want that, do you?

Arlecchino is a lenient Harbinger by the standard of the Fatui, generous enough to believe that every child has its own uses, even those with what would seem like drawbacks to the untrained eye at a glance. The children must give back in return, and you will surely be doing a lot of giving from now on.

[serzhantkris]

Dance with the Devil- 9

Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil. Matt Murdock x Reader // Past!Winter Soldier x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist Open.

Word count: 2141

Author's Note: So, I got stuck on how I wanted this chapter to go, but I finally powered through it and made some decisions, so I'm going to go ahead and move forward. I know it's been a while since I updated, like, any of my stories, but I want to make more of an effort to getting back to writing. The taglist for this story IS OPEN, but I will be cleaning out before too long so if you are already getting tagged and still wish to be, or if you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know (DMs, Asks, comments, reblogs, however, I promise I'll see it)

Then

Blood drips steadily on the concrete. A leaky tap, it runs smoothly down your nose in tiny beads and splatters against the smooth surface. Erupting in little splotches, it leaves stains between where your shaking hands hold your weight off the ground. You stare at the bubbles of red, blinking the sweat out of your eyes. Some little girls find shapes in clouds: horses and faces and castles dancing across the sky. All you see is red splotches that might be knives and guns and rage burned into the floor. 

“Vstavat’.”

Blood rolls down the inside of your nose, kissing you as it rolls off your top lip. When it lands, it becomes a Cheburkov. 

“Seychas.”

Your arms are heavy as you push off the ground, feet finding purchase beneath you. Your boot slides against the ground, smearing the still wet blood as you rise to full height. There’s a cut on your knee that’s made its own bloody art on another patch of concrete, and your bruised knuckles ache when you’re finally standing and flexing your fingers. 

The Madame looks down her nose at you, predatory eyes scrutinizing your form as you wait for your next instruction. She was all sharp, jagged edges, and when she jerks her chin to the side, her chin is as threatening as a knife. You step aside, following her silent direction, and put yourself out of her line of sight. She stalks forward to the center of the room, eyeing your handiwork. The dull, lifeless thing at her feet had a name, but she prods at it with a toe and tuts under her breath as she gestures for the men to clean it up like she’s more disappointed about the bloodstains than the dead body. 

She turns back towards you while they’re dragging it out, her lips pressed in a fine line as she beckons you over. When you’re close, she reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“You are ready,” she says, in English, her accent thick as her tongue presses against her teeth. To the men, she says, “Bring him in.”

She turns back to you as the metal doors slide open, the shrieking of metal pounding against the inside of your skull. “You have proven yourself, little ptitsa,” she continues, placing her hand at the small of your back and guiding you towards the door. “Now that we have selected which girls will continue with the program-“ her voice is as sharp as her face, drawing the words out slowly, the meaning of her words not lost on you- “It is time you advanced in your training. And, lucky you, you will be the first to meet our new instructor. He’s, how you say, ‘on loan,’ from our friends at Hydra.”

The footsteps are heavy as a broad, imposing figure steps out of the darkness through the doors. He’s clad in tactical gear, heavy black boots stopping him just steps inside the door. A black vest constricts his torso, buckling over his chest to hold several knives against his body. His hair is kept long, a tangled mess at his ears and licking his shoulders. A black mask covers the bottom half of his face, and blue, cloudy eyes stare back at you as you drink him in. You have no time to recognize that he is evaluating you, counting the injuries dotting your body and analyzing the blood on your face and knee. You’re too enthralled by the sleek, silver metal of his left arm, too mesmerized by the way the light glints off of it to realize that he’s already calculating ways you need to improve.

“Here we are, ptitsa. Meet your new teacher. Hydra calls him ‘The Winter Soldier.’”

Now

“So, what you’re saying is we’re fucked, then.”

Any other time, Bucky would have laughed. He’d have let your sarcastic humor ease the anxiety he felt when faced with a difficult enemy, would have thrown back his own wise-ass comment or tried to lighten the mood, for your sake. But with a stranger standing three feet away, arms crossed as he leaned against the window to keep watch, he was on edge.

Bucky never liked strangers, and he definitely didn’t trust them, especially the ones who ran around in costumes and masks.

His eyes shifted from the masked Devil to you. You were crouched in front of the door, arms wrapped around your knees as you stared ahead, tracing shapes in the tile. The coffee shop would be opening in a few hours, and you were no closer to finding the man who’d attacked you.

“Taskmaster,” the Devil repeated Bucky’s revelation, the word tasting sour on his tongue. “He’s a super soldier? Like you?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and the Devil must have noticed his ire, because he held up a defensive hand. “No,” Bucky’s teeth ground at the back of his jaw and he shook his head. “He’s… different. He’s strong, and fast, sure- but he can do… Something. He can copy any technique he’s seen before. Mine. Yours.”

“Black Swan,” Matt finished, nodding along. Bucky’s gaze burned into him.

Matt had done a lot of reading over the years. He read the articles about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes: how he had been wanted for allegedly killing the King of Wakanda, along with several other members of the United Nations, in a bombing. It was an event that inspired division in the Avengers. The facts and rumors were indistinguishable, but if there was one thing Matthew Murdock excelled at, it was telling the difference between the guilty and the innocent.

“He’s a mercenary,” Bucky said, shifting the gun strapped to his back. “Doesn’t care who he’s working for as long as he gets paid.”

“So, he’s not after them, exactly.” You frowned, tapping your fingers on your arms as you crossed one foot over the other. “Someone else is. Who?”

“Last time anyone saw him, he was working for Dreykov,” Bucky said. His lips drew into a fine line, and as his eyes slid away from the Devil and landed on your face, Matt felt Bucky’s heart rate tick.

Oh. Oh.

“But why?” Matt cleared his throat, and Bucky tore his eyes away from your face. “And what about the others? Petrova and Kalashnik? Drugova?”

Bucky held his breath, looking to you to answer. You didn’t look at the Devil. Matt listened, hard, but your heart beat as steady as if he’d asked for the time. It was odd, almost frightening, how well you could hide your emotions from him. He had never met anyone with so much control before.

Finally, your tongue pressed against the inside of your teeth, and you looked up at him as though trying to see through the red lenses on his mask. “They were Black Widows.”

Everything seemed to click into place at once. Petrova’s guns, how well she had fought for her life until it was taken. All of them coming to the Americas at the same time, the lack of information about their lives before then. Not just their lives, but yours.

The Devil turned his face toward you with purpose, and Bucky’s fingers twitched like he was ready to go for his gun.

“And you, you’re one of them.”

In a courtroom, accusations carry a certain tone. An intentional, poignant punctuation that demands attention to specific words, carries the meaning of questions not asked. Inflections meant everything; emphasis on one word or another could change the whole meaning of a phrase. It could mean the difference between you did this, you did this, you did this. 

Matt’s words carried none of this. He wasn’t here to place judgment. His job was not one of presenting a guilty verdict but one of evidence, and he did not have enough to stand on one side or another. He knew about Black Widows- one Black Widow. Natasha Romanov had made her file public, and Matt had read and read and read the things she had done, both good and bad. Sins of one Widow, however, were not the sins of them all, nor were their graces. 

“Not anymore. None of them were. They- we- just wanted to take back our lives.”

And sins were not Matt’s business to judge, either. What they were doing, in this kitchen, on the snowy streets, was beyond law. It was God’s jurisdiction to decide the fate of the Black Widows, of Black Swan. Of Daredevil. If you were telling the truth, then these women had rehabilitated themselves, not in the eyes of the law but perhaps indeed in the eyes of God, and though they may have never paid for their crimes in a legal sense, it wasn’t his- or Taskmaster’s- place to take their lives. One couldn’t stand trial after execution. 

Bucky was staring hard at Matt’s helmeted face, threatening him to make a move against their companion. His hand tightened around the rifle, but otherwise, he remained still, waiting. He would protect you if he had to. He would die if he had to. Matt was sure of that.

“So,” Matt said, tilting his head to listen as a car passed through a stoplight on the street. “Someone hired Taskmaster to kill ex-Black Widows. You said this.. Dreykov? He’s dead? Who was he?”

“The leader of the Widows,” you mumbled. Your eyes were trained firmly at the concrete between your feet, not looking at either of the men. Matt turned his face toward you for answers, but Bucky’s heartbeat betrayed his concern. It was clearly a touchy subject, but feelings mattered very little when lives were on the line. “He was our… Overseer. The Red Room was his dollhouse.”

Matt couldn’t suppress the recoil that shot through him at your choice of language. It sent a cold chill up his spine. “And you’re sure he’s dead?”

You were quiet for a long moment. Your heart faltered, just a fraction of a moment, and a sigh of defeat fell from your lips. “A building fell on him, and we scattered like myshi. He’s dead, and we’re just trying to rebuild.”

“A building fell on me once, too.” You blinked up at the Devil, brows tugged together in confusion. Bucky’s brow rose curiously. “I’m still standing, so maybe Dreykov is, too.”

“You think he’s out for revenge?”

“Makes sense,” Bucky added, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe he felt betrayed. All his operatives gone, his only option becomes hiring somebody who can track them down. Make them pay for leaving him to die.”

Silence fell over the room- or, at least, as close to silence as can get for Matt. He could still make out the muffled sounds of the occasional car on the street, of racoons burrowing in the trash for warmth. Someone honked their horn two blocks east.

“How do we find Taskmaster? Or Dreykov?” Your gaze flickered between the men, searching for answers none of you had. “More importantly, how do we stop them before more Widows are killed?”

“Where was he when the building fell?”

Your eyes landed on the Devil, and even though you could only see the bottom of his face, contemplation sat heavy in his features. 

“From what I heard, he’d recreated the Red Room. I was-“ you paused, steadying your heart. The Devil’s lips pressed into a fine line, as though he could hear it. “Not present at the time. Budapest. He was in Budapest.”

“If I were Dreykov,” Bucky let go of the rifle, shifting uncomfortably. “I’d leave Russia. Get far away from wherever any Widows could find me.”

“So, that’s our plan? Find Dreykov before Taskmaster kills the rest of the Widows?” The cold air of the kitchen sent a shiver up your spine, and your hands wrapped around your biceps as you looked between the two men. “We don’t even know where to start.”

Bucky lifted his face to the ceiling, cursing under his breath. “We could try Shield.”

You and the Devil looked at him expectantly, but he closed his eyes as though praying to God there was another option, but one did not present itself as he pinched his nose between his fingers. “Shield has a file on both of them. But Fury is MIA, and they won’t hand that stuff over willingly. Not to us. And with Steve gone…”

The weight of Bucky’s implication was heavy in Matt’s gut. “You’re saying we go to the Shield headquarters, break into a high-tech, high-security building, steal classified documents from their database, fight our way out, and hope that we don’t become federal criminals?”

Bucky said nothing.

You let out a long sigh, shrugging the blanket to the floor and kicking it under a prep table. “Okay, but I need to change. This dress is absolutely ruined.”

Tags:

@hotleaf-juice @mcueveryday @nemtodd-barnes1923 @jurpng @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @morganaah @julietweasley @simonsbluee @gothicxbarbie @dark-night-sky-99 @iknowrocknroll @madwitch7 @angelhxneyy @zer0luck @cheeseman

[954pressurecleaning]

Concrete Cleaning and Sealing: Expert Pressure Washing Tips

Explore our comprehensive blog on concrete cleaning and sealing, offering expert tips for maintaining concrete surfaces. Learn about effective stain removal, advanced pressure washing techniques, and regular upkeep to ensure your surfaces remain pristine and durable. Visit our blog today for detailed insights and practical advice on keeping your concrete in top condition.

[gumnut-logic]

Thunderbird One shuddered as she slid into dock, her whole fuselage groaning as if in relief. As she relaxed, her airframe creaked, losing heat to the cool of the hangar and for a moment everything was still.

Scott let his shoulders loosen, his whole body slumping in his pilot’s chair. One by one, he uncurled his fingers from the controls, his joints stiff from holding them so tight.

His head dropped back against the headrest and his eyes closed.

God, damn.

Breath hissed between his teeth as he let it out as if he had been holding it in all afternoon.

It certainly felt like he had.

They couldn’t save everyone.

They couldn’t.

But god, how he tried.

He drew the breath back in and activated pilot retrieval. One’s main viewing hatch folded back and the platform extended out from the dock as his chair unfolded to meet it.

Even then it took him a long moment to move.

“Scott?” John startled him. “You okay?”

He drew his shoulders up, straightening automatically. “Perfectly fine, Thunderbird Five.”

There was a grunt from orbit. John didn’t believe him.

Scott was not surprised.

A sigh and he pushed himself out of his seat and onto the delivery platform, forcing the correct stance so he didn’t abruptly end his career on the concrete floor far below.

Machinery that had no concept of emotional state hummed smoothly and retrieved him back to solid ground. He took the last step.

Scott stared at his elevator for a solid minute before turning to the stairs and taking them instead.

He needed to move. Needed start his heart beating again. Needed to rescue himself from that vast hole that was sucking him down into its depths. That same empty hole those dead eyes had lured him to once the boy’s life had fluttered away and…

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with a gloved hand.

It was always the eyes that got him.

These ones had been brown, somewhere between Virgil’s and Gordon’s and…oh god.

Move.

He threw himself up the stairs. Fortunately, there was a lot of them and they made his body work hard. By the time he made it to the locker room, he was panting.

His own breath was harsh in his ears and had a helplessness to it he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He shed uniform. His gloves hit the bench, followed by his baldric, his boots skidding across the floor. Struggling not to think, he unzipped his flight suit and shed the thick material, barely acknowledging the cool air as it hit the bare skin of his arms.

Another moment and he flung off his undershirt and shorts and padded over to a shower cubicle naked as the day he was born.

Goose pimples raised on his arms.

The shower was as hot as he could get it. But not hot enough to wash away the bruises he had no doubt Virgil would be targeting the moment he laid eyes on his eldest brother.

Scott’s sigh couldn’t be heard above the water spray.

Body scrubbed clean…ever so clean…red raw in places…the Commander of International Rescue stood under the steaming shower and closed his eyes.

You can’t save everyone.

It was his father’s voice. The same voice that came to him in all difficult moments. Grey eyes, reassuring smile and a strength Scott wished daily that he had. Jeff Tracy was a legend, bigger than life. Jeff Tracy was his father.

Jeff Tracy was a voice that guided him, that saved him, held him tight and prevented him from falling into that pit of despair that sometimes just loomed.

He turned the water off and let the remains drip off his body.

His left thigh was turning an ugly purple.

Damn.

Another sigh and he pushed aside the cubicle door and grabbed a towel.

It was big, extra fluffy, sky blue and all Virgil’s idea. He could still see his brother making his case for luxury towels in the locker room where they were needed. Mental health, he claimed.

Scott, Air Force to the core, had used abrasive cardboard squares masquerading as towels enough times to acknowledge the difference and how right his little brother was. It wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity.

Scott buried his face in deep cotton as the cool air wrapped around him. Another moment and he was rubbing himself dry, his thigh, left ribcage and arm complained. The ache was creeping up on him. He hadn’t really noticed other than the sharp collision when he had initially fallen.

But he hadn’t had time. Arms full of dying rescuee with a building on its way down…he did what he had to do.

Still, it hadn’t been enough.

First John and then Virgil yelling at him over comms. He was fine. The teenage boy was dead, but Scott Tracy was fine.

Just fine.

He scrubbed his hair dry, trying his best to ignore the fact his left arm hated being lifted above his shoulders.

Hair hung in his eyes and he brushed it aside, irritably.

Somewhere outside the rock walls of the locker room a familiar roar swelled and he knew Thunderbird Two and his three brothers were moments away from invading this quiet space.

Scott straightened. It was inevitable. Virgil would not let him escape again, but there might be a few more minutes alone if he got his shit together.

One of the advantages of flying the fast ‘bird. First dibs at the showers and that moment to gather himself before his brothers cornered him.

Digging through his locker, he found some underwear, loose pants and an old t-shirt. His usual casual wear beckoned, but even he knew he wasn’t fit to go out again, even if Virgil hadn’t grounded him yet.

He wasn’t stupid.

Tomorrow, yes. Today? He needed a stiff drink and time to himself.

So that is exactly what he did. Detouring to the drinks cabinet, he nabbed himself a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. Two, because he was a realist.

Hair still a damp mess, he skipped up to his rooms, grabbed his tablet, and hid on his own private balcony. From here, he could see the Island, the villa below and the sky to the south. Mateo had birds hovering over it like it always did in the early evening as the day started winding down.

His eyes randomly tracked a lone bird, different from the others, coasting past high above the Island.

He threw himself into an overly plush lounger. Again, a sky blue and Virgil-instigated. Scott had returned from a mission several years ago to find it sitting on his balcony. Not a word had been said, but he knew it was Virgil. Just like the towels, it wasn’t extravagance, it was mental health and Scott had to admit to curling up in the contraption on many an occasion since.

The tablet, bottle of whisky and tumblers landed with a thud on the wooden table beside it.

His body creaked as he folded into the chair and he was reminded that he would likely have a medic brother on his ass sometime soon.

He lay back and closed his eyes and forced every to muscle relax.

And tried to ignore the eyes etched into his mind.

Only to be startled awake as someone loomed over him.

“Hey, hey, it’s only me.” Familiar, soft baritone and deep brown eyes, Virgil was crouched down beside him. His brother’s hair was still curly damp from the shower and he was frowning…at the bruises on Scott’s arm. “Just chasing you up after that fall.”

Scott shifted on the lounger and his whole body protested. Damnit. “I’m fine, Virgil.”

“I’ll decide that.” That prompted the ghastly yellow scanner light to flicker across his body.

“Virgil!”

His brother’s lips thinned to a line as he read the scanner’s readout. “You’re off rota at least twenty-four hours, possibly more.”

“I know that.”

“I’ll note that against your diagnosis of ‘fine’.”

Scott glared at his brother.

Virgil rolled back on his heels, eyes assessing in that damned medical way of his.

“Virgil, I’m okay. A few bruises. I’ll live. Stop worrying.” He hated being the source of anxiety.

Still, his brother stared, his frown emphasizing that scar between his eyebrows.

“What?!”

Virgil’s eyes didn’t waver. “Sit up.”

“Why?”

“Scott…”

Fine. He pushed himself up out of the lounger and sat on its side, frustrated as all hell as to why his brother was being such a pain.

Virgil rolled onto his knees and before Scott could do anything, he found himself wrapped in a massive hug.

His brother’s arms, ever so strong, built for heavy lifting, held him tight, but gently, Virgil’s damp hair brushing his cheek as his head rested on Scott’s shoulder.

Startled, it took Scott a blink to return the gesture, his longer arms flailing for just that moment of surprise before curling around red flannel. “Virgil? You okay?”

His brother’s only answer was to tighten his hold a little more.

Scott frowned, unsure what the hell was going on, but Virgil didn’t let go and Scott could only stay tensed up for so long before he was forced to relax into his brother’s embrace.

“What are you doing?” It was asked against flannel and his own breath was warm against his lips.

Virgil still didn’t answer, but one large hand crept onto the back of Scott’s head, fingers stroking hair.

What?

But somehow the question never made it to his lips. Somehow, his body began to melt, each muscle falling limp, those strong arms taking the place of the tension in his body.

Fingers carded through his hair.

“Virg…” But it was little more than breath and he found himself blinking rapidly.

No.

Still, Virgil didn’t stop. Scott could feel his brother’s steady pulse, thrumming against his neck, his chest moving with each breath.

Scott closed his eyes.

Ever so warm.

He could have struggled, fought, pushed his brother away. But…

Brown eyes vacant and hollow. The image had him flinching and the arms around him reacted, shifting just a little. His brother’s baritone rumbled a reassurance he didn’t quite hear.

But still Virgil held him.

Held him.

Scott had no resistance left.

That baritone rumbled again and his brother’s free hand began stroking his back.

Nonsense words. His brother was spouting nonsense words.

But Scott’s eyes were closed and his body spent. He wilted into his brother’s arms and found himself breaking on the inside.

Vacant, hollow eyes.

So young.

So like a little brother.

Scott scrunched up his face, fighting his own reaction. But Virgil was still rumbling, still stroking his hair.

A single tear escaped to dampen red flannel.

No.

No.

He let the wave of grief wash over him, but refused to react, waiting for it to wane away.

His heart beat too fast and it left him exhausted.

And still Virgil held him.

He lost time for a bit there. Eyes closed. Warm flannel. His brother’s voice. A small part of him resisted it. Virgil was a little brother despite their closeness in age. Scott should be the comforter, always…

But the little boy who had lost his mom, the young man who had lost his dad…the commander who lost a young teenager in his arms today…took that moment, grabbing it like a life line and accepting what his brother was trying to give him.

He sat there, he didn’t know how long, just existing, warm and safe.

Perhaps he would have fallen asleep right there in his brother’s arms, whether he would be embarrassed to admit it or not, but there were bruises and aches and eventually he was forced to gently pull away.

Warm brown eyes peered up at him, still worried. Virgil’s hand was on Scott’s knee as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Thanks, Virg.”

That hand squeezed his knee in acknowledgement. “Lie down and get some rest.” His little brother stood up and walked out of sight a moment, only to return hauling another lounger, this one in a deep green. “John’s coming down in the morning. We can debrief then.” Virgil grunted as he put the lounge down. “Grandma has an eye on Gordon and Alan, but the Fish has a new Buddy and Ellie series and Alan is hip deep in that latest game of his. I think they’re good.” He threw himself onto the lounge and the structure creaked under his weight. He lay back, crossed his feet at his ankles and closed his eyes. Virgil was obviously here for the long haul.

Scott wasn’t surprised.

The scanner lay discarded on the table.

A sigh and he lay back just like his brother. The sky was beginning to pink in the east, the echoes of a sunset he couldn’t see lighting up Mateo.

He felt far more relaxed than he had earlier. A tension had been eased, while not entirely, that would take time, lessened considerably.

He eyed his medic brother. The man looked like he was going to fall asleep. The sight of him had Scott yawning.

Damn him.

But it was thought with fondness and with a sudden urge to reach out and hug his brother again.

“Go to sleep, Scott.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

Scott sighed and looked back up at the sky. It had been a shit day. Not the first. Probably not the last. Vacant eyes still haunted him and probably would for some time, but a pair of rich, brown eyes full of life and not a little love had somehow managed to take the edge off. His brother had filled that cold vacuum of a hole with warmth.

Virgil began to snore and Scott was forced to smile.

The snoring was probably fake, but it was lulling nonetheless. Safe and home.

Loved.

Scott closed his eyes.

And let himself drift away.

-o-o-o-

[boredzillenial]

Stronger Than I Look

Summary: You and your coworker Steven are doing inventory late at night. Being a bigger girl you hadn’t worked up the courage to make a move. But an artifact hidden amongst the trinkets in stock changes things.

Themes: self conscious plus sized female reader, lil bit of Marc, sex pollen, oral (f!receiving), p in v no condom (wrap it up irl y’all).

Word Count: 2106

Authors note: horniness inspiration from this @minispidey fic

“I still can’t believe Donna is still keeping these.” Steven tutted showing you an Innead poster. “It’s missing two gods and she just doesn’t care.” He huffed.

“She’s the worst.” You chuckle as you continue to scan the miniature god statues in-front of you.

“And she won’t even give me a shot at tour guide cause I’m always bloody late.” Steven sets the poster down and walks over to the other side of the counter, setting his elbows down and putting his head in his hands.

You heart picks up pace at his nearness, self consciously adjusting your oversized sweater. You’d taken a chance on a sweater/skirt combination that flattered your figure. But that nagging in the back of your mind always grew louder when Steven was near. “What’s got you running late so often?” You ask, keeping your gaze down on your task.

“M-…” he begins but then hesitates and looks at his reflection in the counter, weird. “M-my sleep schedule is just off. Insomnia and all.” He blushes and turns away from you.

I could help with that. You think to yourself cheekily as you raise a brow and admire the view of him from behind.

He steps a few paces to halfheartedly look over the bins of knickknacks collecting dust on shelves. Picking things up at random and turning them in his hands as if he’s closely inspecting them. You see his gaze flicker to his reflection in the glass of an old display next to him and his brows furrow. As you watch he looks down at the item in his hand, what looked to be a replica of an elegant glass perfume bottle yellowed with age. He turned it over in his hands and held it closer to his face. Then suddenly jolted and stared at his reflection again, his face flashing with a bit of panic like a kid caught in the cookie jar.

“Steven?” Your voice came out louder than expected in the silence of the storage room. Steven jolted again, this time dropping the bottle shattering it across the concrete floor. His gasped and a ruddy blush bloomed across his face.

“No no no.” He panicked and backed away from the glass.

“It’s alright,” you grab the broom from the corner of the room beside you, “it’s just glas-“

Steven threw his hand up as his gaze remained locked on the mess on the floor. The fear in his eyes flashing as if you were about to step on a mine. “Don’t!” His breathing began to shorten till he was nearly gasping.

“Steven, are you having a panic attack?” You step away from the glass and begin to make your way around to him.

“No no please, just, stay away.” His eyes were wide with panic and his pupils blown. His jaw flexed as he shook his head. “Stay away.” His voice darkened into something you hadn’t recognized before, the gravel in it accentuated the loss of his accent.

“Steven it’s okay.” You say softly as you take a step back. “I’ll get this cleaned up later then just, take a breath.” He began shivering and shaking his head and, to your shock, slapped himself. “Don’t!” You instinctively lunged forward to grip his wrist, stopping him from dealing another blow across his cheek. His skin was hot under your touch and you could feel how deadly still he had become. He muttered something under his breath as you kept his wrist in your grip.

“What?” You asked softly.

His gaze snapped up to lock with yours, the gravel remaining and his eyes dark. “Run.”

What you saw sent lighting through your body, landing straight to your core. Along with the deep red blush and dark eyes, sweat beaded at his temples and something between a smile and a snarl played at his lips. You didn’t need to be told twice as you turned and bolted down the dim hallway. You heard crashing and could’ve swore you heard him yell at himself as you ran.

“- got this! Why store it here you twit! —- scared her senseless!”

You run as best you can in your skirt as you turned and made it to the bathroom. You quickly barricaded the door and took a breath. What the hell was that…

You soon heard footsteps outside and a soft knock on the door. “It’s me, sorry if I scared ya. Wasn’t myself.” You heard the shake in his voice.

“Steven?”

“Yeah, can you open the door?” He said softly.

You were torn, something was off. But this was the man you’d been crushing on for weeks, and his voice was so soft. You cracked the door open to see his face, his blown pupils and sweaty temple remaining but the dark look in his eye and the snarl that was on his lips was gone. “Steven what’s going on.” You open the door a bit wider, reaching out and touching his burning forehead.

“Gods that can’t be good, come here.” You open the door completely and turn to the row of sinks. Cutting on the cold water you wave Steven to come closer. His steps were shaky and you could see his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Steven are you-“

Your question was cut off my his lips slamming against yours, the slight pain and surprise jolted you back. “Steven!” You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, your eyes wide.

“Sorry I just,” that deep red tinge remained and his eyes scoured over your curvaceous figure. “You’re so lovely and -“

“What?” You whisper, unable to process what you just heard.

“I - I’ve fancied you since you started and-“ it was your kiss that interrupted him this time. Your pulse skyrocketing as excitement and arousal pushed you into him. You curled your fingers around his collar and pulled him against you.

The whimper that let loose from him nearly made your knees buckle right then and there. “So good” he gasped between kisses and pushed you until your rear pressed against the counter. His hands roamed down your waist and began gripping onto your soft hips and thighs. “Need you to-“ he quickly moved your arms up around his shoulders. “Hang on love.” In a flash he wrapped his arms around your thighs and lifted you onto the counter.

“Oh gods.” You giggled “Steven how did you-”

“Stronger than I look.” He winked and spread your legs, settling himself between them and pressing into you. His hips began to roll and buck as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Illicit groans echoed against the mirrors and tile and you hoped they weren’t escaping beyond the bathroom door.

He continue to kiss and lick into your mouth, pulling away only for a brief moment to push your skirt up above your soft belly. “Can I?” His eyes drop to your exposed wet panties, “please.” He pants, nipping at your bottom lip.

Heat crept up your chest and neck as you looked down at yourself. You tried to adjust your skirt back down but Steven had spread his hands across your stomach and gripped it gently. “You’re so beautiful, why ya hidin’?” He nuzzled your nose with his. His body shaking with desire as he gripped onto his last bit of sanity.

“Just a bit self conscious.” You did your best to meet his gaze.

“Oh love, lemme show you how beautiful you are.” He dropped to his knees and you felt the heat of his breath spread across your covered mound. In one swift motion he ripped your panties away, licking his kiss swollen lips and, fuck it looked like he was nearly drooling at the sight of you. “So beautiful.” He whimpered as he buried his face into your core.

Your gasp echoed as you laced your fingers through his hair and gripped hard, eliciting a groan that vibrated through your cunt. “Fuck Steven you don’t have to-“ you stammered, embarrassment rising as he kneaded your soft thighs and stomach.

He pulled away just a bit, his lips, chin, and even nose were glistening where he’d buried his face into you. “Don’t have to?”

“I just wanna make sure you can breath.” The excuse felt like ash in your mouth as you said it.

“I can do without air, I can’t do without this.” His words were a near growl as he buried his face again. His tongue diving and working into you, swirling around your clit. You bit your lip so hard you were surprised it wasn’t bleeding as you tried to stifle your yelp. He was eating you out like a man starved.

“Fuck I’m gonna-“ you began to cry. His grip became bruising as he picked up the pace to send you crashing through your orgasm. His tongue was relentless as you began to jolt from the overstimulation. “Steven please.” You whimper, using your grip in his hair to pull him off you.

When he looked up at you, those blown out pupils and pussy drunk smirk send your heart skittering. He stood slowly and you spotted the wet spot growing in his trousers. “Steven did you?”

“ ‘Course I did. How could I not.” He leaned in, sliding his tongue past your lips. The taste of your orgasm and his own mouth mixing deliciously. He began rolling his hips against you again, this time the wet fabric of his pants giving you a bit of friction against your exposed pussy. You could feel the heat of his cock and the shear size of it pressing against you driving you to grind back against him.

Your orgasm loosened your self consciousness a tad and you pulled him harder against you by the waistband of his pants. His hands met yours as he frantically freed himself. Cum coated his thick length as he sprang free. “Please-“ you squeaked but it was all you managed to say before he sank into you, his cum mixing with the aftermath of your own orgasm helping him glide despite the stretch.

You groaned breathlessly and held him close to you as he began pounding into you, the sound of your body’s ramming into one another now added to the symphony of grunts, groans and whimpers from the both of you. His tousled curls fell forward on his fever-dampened brow as he buried deeper into you. “Fuck love I’m gonna-“ his whimper cut into a groan as he clenched his jaw and pulsed and jolted.

“Yes baby just like that.” You say shakily. You continue to cling onto him, using your legs to wrap him tight against you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as his hot breath came in pants.

“Oh darling, ‘m still so hard.” He groans and begins moving his hips in slow long strokes. “Ah, right love - gonna fill you up.” He huffed as his hands gripped onto your plump hips and ass. “So soft, so lovely.” He cooed as he kissed your neck. He rolled his hips to get as deep as his could. Once he was down to the hilt he continued rutting into you, grinding himself against your clit.

The added stimulation sent your walls fluttering and Steven into another bout of whimpers and groans. “Oh you like that yeah?” He continued, sending you gasping and clinging onto him like a life preserver in a stormy sea. The motion of his hips threatening to send you under the waves. In just a few strokes you were seeing stars, your world narrowed on only him.

“Oh shit-“ he gasped and came deep inside you once again, filling you to the brim as you felt it begin to spill down your ass onto the counter. “Thank you, oh thank you.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around you, remaining deep as his cock pulsed and slowly softened. You couldn’t help but giggle as he continued. “Y-you laughin’ at me?” He pulled away to look you in the eye, his blush subsiding and eyes back to normal with a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“No no, just, this whole thing.” You covered your face with your hands attempting to stifle your giggle. “Hard to believe.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” He said softly, pulling your hands down slowly and pressing his forehead against yours. “Would you- would you let me take you on a proper date?” He held your gaze.

You looked down where you were still connected, letting out a light chuckle. You nuzzled your nose against his and pushed the curls from his face, “Of course.”

—————————————-

Masterlist

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[thelastofharrington]

43, 47, or 85 for joel? ❤️❤️❤️❤️

anything for you! how about something slow and sweet??

if you want to send me some smutty dialogue prompts, im going off of this list hehe

43: “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

warnings/tags: smut!! minors dni!!!, oral (m receiving), f!reader, unprotected sex, intimate, slow sex, joel is the perfect lay, mutual pining

Joel had been gone for several days. Off doing some trading and negotiating, and then working some shifts at the QZ that required him to be gone on the opposite schedule of you. You hadn't seen him in what felt like forever. But tonight, tonight that was going to change.

You and Joel weren't dating per se. No, dating in an apocalypse was fruitless and juvenile. But you were living together, not seeing other people, and consistently falling into bed together. You liked that he kept you safe and he liked that you kept him young. You also both got a lot out of the "falling into bed together " part. The part you have been missing for the last several days.

It was hedonistic and heady, the way you craved him. There were just about a million other things to worry about and prioritize, but today you made an effort to get as clean as possible, wear your least tattered clothes, and make the bed in preparation for Joel to come home from the night shift.

You were so hopped up on energy and lust that it didn't even feel like the five hours after your shift that you had to wait for his to be over, and then at 10:30 sharp, you heard the key in the door. Then you heard a thump of a bag hitting the floor, the shuffling of shoes coming off, and the dragging of tired feet against the concrete floors. Then finally, you saw the figure of the man you're almost sure you love standing in the doorway.

"Hi Joel," you drawl from your spot on the bed in your sweetest voice, making sure to bat your eyelashes.

He stops in the doorway to drink you in, looking you up and down, almost convincingly not exhausted. "Hi baby girl." It's almost a sigh of relief as it leaves his lips

Your heart breaks in your chest as you realize just how exhausted he is. You rethink your whole plan, thinking you can put your foolish cravings to the side for now. A warm body in your bed is just as nice as one between your legs. "Why don't you come to bed?"

He stalks his way over to you and stands at the edge before you, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Maybe your cravings weren't so foolish after all, maybe he wants this as bad as you do. "Depends, is it working."

He pulls you by the under side of your knees to the edge of the bed so he's slotted between your thighs. "Something's working all right."

He leans down to kiss you and you let him. You let him because you need him to, and you think he might need it too. You let him because you missed him and you've grown accustomed to the way his five o'clock shadow scratches you ever so slightly. You let him because you love him, even if you're too afraid to admit it out loud.

The one kiss slowly turns into lots of little ones as he guides you onto your back, and then lots of big, long ones as you pulls your leg up over his hip. It's getting hot and heavy quickly but still not nearly at the speed you would like. You reach down between the two of you to palm at the front of his jeans, feeling delighted by the hardened length that you find.

He groans at the contact and moves to leave some kisses on the underside of your ear, "Eager tonight, are we?"

You meet his lips again as your fingers fumble with his button and zipper, "Just missed you is all."

"Fuck- I missed you too, baby," He says as you dip your hand beneath his waist band. "Let me flip over."

Now you're the one slotted between his thighs as you continue to work his cock. He shimmies out of his jeans and boxers while never taking his eyes off of you.

He's nice and hard for you as you lean down, mouth open, tongue out. You take him in your mouth all the way in one fell swoop, eliciting some crude remarks from your roommate/lover.

"Fuck that mouth is so wet baby."

"You take it so good."

"Treat me so nice, baby."

You're encouraged by his obscenities so you pick up the pace, your mouth bobbing faster and faster as you attempt to take all of him as much as possible. He holds you hair back for you, so you expect him to guide you at an even more intense pace like he normally does, but instead, he lifts you off of him completely.

"Woah, slow down darlin'. I’m not going anywhere."

You open your mouth to apologize before he continues, "If you want me to fuck you, we gotta slow down a notch. And I know you want me to fuck you."

You swallow your gasp and nod before going back to his cock, licking up his precum slowly while making deep eye contact with him.

He throws his head back, "Fuck baby, going slow is gonna kill me too." He looks down again at you worshipping his cock slowly, just like he told you to. "You're such a good girl for me baby, taking me nice and slow just like I tell you to. You'd do anything I told you to, wouldn't you?"

You try to reply but your mouth his full of him, so it just comes out as a gargle that reverberates off his cock so deliciously he groans again, tightening the grip he has in your hair. "Gimme that pussy baby I'm not gonna last long with you on your knees like that."

You immediately get up, take off your clothes, and assume your normal position, doggy style. He normally likes to be able to slap your ass, pull your hair, and drill into you from behind with all the power he can conjure up.

"Not tonight, hon. Tonight I want to look in those pretty eyes while I make you cum on my cock."

Your center tightens around nothing at his words. Obediently, you turn over to lay on your back, taking a pillow and putting it under your hips to prepare for the best angle possible.

He lines his cock up with your cunt, "Good girl, all ready for me. You look so pretty like this, darlin'. I'm one lucky son of a bitch"

You blush and cover your face, suddenly embarrassed by his nice words.

He moves your hands away from your face gently before rubbing a thumb over your cheek, "None of that tonight. Tonight I want to see all of you."

You nod and wait for him to slide in. You know you're already so wet for him, but you're excited for him to find out for himself. He groans as soon as the tip of his cock touches your folds, signaling to you that he feels your slickness as much as you do.

"So wet for me already and I haven't even touched you. How'd I get so lucky?" He says before he slides all the way in.

"Been thinking about this all day," You admit.

Inch by inch he slowly enters you, "Oh yeah?" He asks, trying to keep his composure, "Thinking about this big cock in that pussy?"

Finally, he bottoms out inside of you and you mewl loudly at the sensation of being so full of him. "Yes Joel, please fuck me baby," You barely sputter out.

He needs no further instructions before he lazily and lovingly starts pulling in and out. He's usually rough with you, hitting your cervix over and over until you can barely walk the next day. But tonight, tonight he's pulling all the way out before pistoning back in just so. It's the exact intensity you need, but you also know it's what he needs too. He's meeting you in the middle to give you exactly what you want but still savoring every last second with you.

You're both moaning and heaving as he continues to fuck you. Eventually he moves one of your ankles over his shoulder, stretching you out and deepening the angle even more.

You lose track of where your head's at and just start thanking him between each thrust. "Thank you for fucking me Joel," You cry out, "I needed that big cock baby, I needed it so bad."

"Anything for my girl baby, anything at all," His thrusts start to grow sloppy as he reaches his climax, "What do you need from me to make you cum?"

"My clit, please," You sob out as he propels himself into you particularly deep.

"Yes baby, keep tensing like that and I'm gonna cum," He grunts out as he plays with your cunt. He knows you're close because he can feel your walls fluttering around him, all wet and hot. It's enough to make him bust, if he wasn't so preoccupied on making sure you got there first.

Between his fingers on your clit and his cock in your pussy, you're two seconds away from one of the biggest orgasms of your life. You can feel it. His words get you there within minutes of him praising you:

"You look so pretty with my cock inside you baby."

"You are so beautiful like this, all spread out for me baby."

"Please cum for me, I want to feel you cum on my cock."

And with that, you're a goner. He was right, you would do anything he asked.

He finishes on your stomach not too long after, but you're too much in a haze of your on pleasure to notice until he comes back with a towel to clean you up.

"Thanks," You say shyly as he wipes you down.

He looks back up with you with a soft smile on his face, "Thank you. I needed that," He pauses, "I really missed you, darlin'."

You sit up on your elbows and smile back at him, "I missed you too."

The rest of the night is spent in his arms as he recounts his latest adventures, and you fall asleep soundly to the steady rhythm of his breaths. The last thing you remember thinking before you fall asleep is, "I could see myself loving him forever."

[elithilanor]

The Unfinished Drafts

Aka my thoughts on gender and elves isn't super concrete anyone and here's an exploratory draft I had going in themes of forcing myself to write more and get over my imposter syndrome and also it's pride

Aka Haldir is having Thoughts about Gender and Elrond is everyone's dad

Unfinished drafts are things I probably won't complete due to some reason. In this case, my stances on elvish gender have changed so it's not really relevant anymore to my thought process. But it also makes me happy so here it is.

Haldir had spent the better part of a year ruminating over this conversation and yet he found the words still wouldn’t come to him.

“I cannot Shapeshift.” He finds himself blurting out.

“No. I wouldn’t have supposed you could.” Lord Elrond responds, a small tilt of his head as he assesses the Warden. “That is a fairly restricted gift of lineage.”

“Yes, correct. But are there -“ Haldir pauses, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands flutter before he smooths them down at his side.

“Haldir.” Lord Elrond says gently, kindly. He is always gentle and kind; surely he would not think less of him even if it were not possible.

Elven gender is not like the race of Men; they are much more fluid. But he wasn’t changing his role in society or the wardrobe he wore. He was changing the very foundation of his gifts from Illuvitar.

“I - are there ways to change the body's form? Without shifting one’s body? Perhaps… permanently?” He focuses on the roses below the balcony. He finds himself unable to look at the Peredhel Healer.

He’s sure his brothers have guessed, maybe others, perhaps the Lady Galadriel even knows. She has had that mischievous look in her eyes for the past three weeks and his finding Lord Elrond without any additional guests at his side had been surprisingly easy for how busy he was.

But it’s different to say it out loud.

Different to say it out loud and mean it. Different to change things as they are. To change things to what they should be.

He hears Lord Elronds robes brush his legs as he walks away and Haldir’s heart drops. He closes his eyes. Perhaps the whole notion had been ridiculous. He supposes he could try himself, but it truly was a bit too ridiculous to contemplate. Battlefield medic he was, not an elf with the gifts of his Lady.

“There are more than you might think.” Elrond says warmly, squeezing Haldir’s shoulder reassuringly as he appears back in his line of site. Elrond presses a goblet into Haldir’s hand and firmly guides him to the settee. His legs are much less sturdy than he had thought they were. He finds the hand Elrond has on his shoulder the only point of grounding; he feels as light as air.

“Shifting one’s form magically is rare, which means that for ages, others have had to find other means to do. Usually surgically as magic is not precise enough and can cause a host of negative effects. To name a few who have undergone a form of transition to their bodies: Maeglin, Caranthir, King Fingon, Círdan. Elves who farm, and hunt, and clean the floors, and sew garments. Elves who prefer staying in the background; elves who rise in the ranks of the Galadhrim. Elves of all genders changing to what matches their feäs.”

Haldir nods, mind racing. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone.

“I can reach out to some of the others for you? They often like to meet the new and assist with recovery afterwards.” Haldir nods again, eyes wide.

“Please.” He whispers, feä scrubbed raw.

Elrond hums softly and wraps an arm around the younger elf’s shoulders. Some of the tension seeps out of Haldir’s chest.

[katenewmanwrites]

Racing Hearts - Chapter Nine

Warnings: Mentions of injury, Mild blood, Pain, Emotional distress, Intimacy and mention of violence.

Finally, he pulls the car into the building's parking garage, guiding the car into his spot. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminates the space, casting eerie shadows across the concrete walls.

Finn turns off the engine and hops out of the car, coming around to open my door. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable sting from my knees as I walk on them again.

I carefully step out of the car. Finn took my arm, leading me towards the elevator. The click of his dress shoes and my heels against the concrete floor echoes through the garage.

We step into the elevator, the doors close silently behind us. The elevator begins to rise, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in my stomach and the stabbing pain shooting up my legs.

As the doors slide open, the small fancy hallway greets us. Finn leads me to his apartment door, unlocking it with the passcode, pushing it open, the sight of Anthony and Sofia on the couch to greet us. Finn steps aside to let me enter the apartment first. I take in the warm welcome of his apartment.

"Beat ya back." Anthony says as we enter. Sofia smiles warmly at me, motioning for us to sit down on the empty couch. As I take a seat, I can feel the exhaustion from the night's events settling in.

Finn ignores Anthony and instead walks down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Disappearing out of view for a moment. I sit on the couch, looking down at my knees for the first time since the fire. It’s a bloody mess.

There's a burning pain in my right knee. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous energy that is still coursing through my veins.

Soon, Finn returns, carrying a small first aid kit in his hands. He kneels down in front of me, this action sends a wave of heat right through my body. "Alright, let me take a look at that," he says as he gently lifts my left knee.

His hands are surprisingly warm. He reaches into the first aid kit and pulls out a small bottle of antiseptic. Carefully, he wipes at the wound, making me wince slightly at the stinging. "Sorry," he mumbles, before dabbing some more.

"It's not too bad, just a little deep." He says, his voice calm and soothing.

He grabs a bandage from the first aid kit and begins to blow to dry the antiseptic on my knee. The warmth of his breath sends electricity through my body. He presses the bandage against my skin, securing it in place.

He moves on to my other knee, gently lifting it. I watch him, noticing how carefully he handles me. He inspects it, wincing, as if in sympathy, "How have you been walking on this?" He asks, sounding concerned.

I can feel the piece of glass that's embedded in my knee. It throbs with every beat of my heart. Finn looks at it for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Alright, this one's gonna hurt a bit more," he warns.

He cleans the wound again, and I try not to flinch as he uses tweezers to grab the glass. With one swift motion, he removes it, making me gasp. Blood wells up from the wound, and he quickly presses a cotton ball against it.

"It won't need stitches." He teases, laughing lightly, and I feel a smile creep up on my face. His fingers brush against my knee as he dabs the wound with antiseptic, making my skin tingle. He blows on my knee before he presses a fresh bandage against the wound, securing it in place. As he does so, I can't help but feel the warmth of his hands against leg.

His hands linger for a moment, and I can feel his fingers tracing light circles around my knee. The sensation is both strange and electrifying. "There you go, all fixed up." He says, pulling back to meet my gaze. In the soft light of the room, his eyes are incredibly blue, and I'm lost in them.

"Thank you," I whisper. My voice comes out shaky, and I'm suddenly aware of how intimate this moment feels. Finn's hand moves up my leg, his fingers trailing over the skin of my thigh. The sensation sends a shiver through me, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "Finn…" I breathe his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

Anthony clears his throat, breaking the tension. "So, uh, guestroom?" He asks. Finn's hand slips away from my thigh, and he clears his throat as well.

"If you'll just give Lily a minute to grab some things, it's all yours," Finn says. He doesn't take his eyes off of me as he says it.

"I'll, umm, do that," I say, glancing at Finn. I stand up slowly. As I walk to the guest room, my legs still sting but I’m distracted by the feeling of his eyes on my back. It's almost like he's reluctant to let me out of his sight. When I reach the room, I close the door behind me and take a deep breath.

I head to the bathroom to grab my toiletries and then I rummage through my shopping bags to find that silk slip. I can't help but smile as I take it out, feeling the smooth fabric between my fingers. I wonder if it's too much, but part of me hopes that Finn will like it. After all, there's only one bed left in this apartment, and it's his.

I put my things in a small shopping bag and closed the door to the guest room. As I walk back out, I catch Finn watching me from the living room. He gives me a small smile, his eyes lingering on my face for just a moment too long. I feel a flutter in my stomach and can't help but return the smile.

I join the others on the couch, sitting down next to Finn. He slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and it's like someone is setting fireworks off in my stomach. I can feel the heat continuing to rise to my cheeks as I look at him, trying to decipher his expression.

Anthony clears his throat again, this time standing up. "Well, goodnight, you two," he says, giving us a small smile.

"Night darling." Sofia says to me before taking Anthony's hand and walking down the hall.

I can feel Finn's arm around my shoulders. But he loosens his hold on me and stands up, offering me his hand. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

I take his hand and he leads me down the hallway, my injured knee not quite as steady as I'd like it to be. We pause outside what I can presume is Finn's bedroom.

Finn glances at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "This is where you'll be sleeping," he says softly, as he opens the door.

The room is dimly lit, with a plush comforter and pillows. I can see a few framed pictures on the dressing table, one of Finn as a child with a familiar boy I assume is his brother. It's darker than the rest of the apartment, but it's cosy. "This is… very nice," I say, glancing around.

Finn smiles, still standing by the door. "I'm glad you think so. Make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, just give me a shout." He pauses, before his hand finds the door handle again. "Goodnight, Lily."

"Oh…Where are you going?" I ask.

Finn raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I thought I'd sleep on the couch. I mean, I've done it before."

Annoyance bubbles within me, "What. No. You are not sleeping on the coach." I pause, take a deep breath and then step forward. My cheeks feel warm, but I force myself to meet his gaze. "You got shot yesterday, you are not sleeping on a coach."

"It's a very nice coach," He says, looking slightly amused.

"I don't care if it's a nice coach. I said no." I say, looking into his eyes and willing him to understand. "I'm not comfortable with that. And it's a bloody big bed, so don't be an idiot."

Finn chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "Alright, alright. I get it."

"Good." I say, nodding in satisfaction. "Then, I'll be in the bathroom," I add, gesturing behind me to the bathroom door. I don't dare meet his gaze as I turn and walk over to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I take a deep breath, feeling slightly embarrassed by how assertive I just was. But I couldn't let him sleep on that stupid coach.

I turn on the water, and wash the makeup off my face. My hands shake a little as I splash cold water onto my skin, trying to calm the butterflies and all the nervous energy from the evening.

I dry my face, and then I take a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. I go to unzip my dress, but… It's stuck… Oh My God… The zipper is stuck. I fumble with it for a moment, my heart racing. How am I going to get this thing off?

I fumble with it some more, losing my breath in the process. Maybe I should just ask Finn for help. But no, I can't do that. Not now. Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. "Lily? Are you okay in there?" Finn asks. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s just taking a while.”

"Not really," I reply, my voice coming out a little shaky. "I-I can't… get this zipper down."

The door slowly opens, and there he is. Finn. His blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I feel like I can't breathe. "Here," he says, stepping closer. His hand finds my zipper, and with a firm tug he expertly slides it down, revealing my bare back and the lace bra underneath. I feel a shiver run down my spine as his fingers graze my skin.

"There you go," he says softly, taking a step back. The air between us crackles with electricity. I nod, trying to find my voice, but it seems to have deserted me. I look up at him, and he's watching me intently. His gaze is so intense it feels like a physical touch.

I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how close he is. He's only inches away, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Thanks," I whisper. My voice sounds strange and breathy to my own ears.

Finn smiles, and it's the same crooked grin that I've seen before. "You're welcome," he says, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from my face. His touch is so light, so feather-soft. It's not enough. It's not nearly enough. I want more.

I take a deep breath, feeling the tension building inside me. I want to close the distance between us, feel his skin against mine. "Finn…" I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leans in closer, his eyes searching mine. "Yes?"

"I… I just want… to say thank you." My words tumble out, barely coherent. "For everything. You know, not just the dress." I'm acutely aware of how ridiculous this sounds, but I can't seem to stop myself. It's not what I wanted to say at all. I wanted to tell him how much I wanted him, how much I'd thought about him, how much I wanted more.

Finn's eyes soften as he studies my face. "You don't have to thank me."

He lingers for a moment. "I'll leave you to it." He says, taking a step back towards the door, but I think it's as hard for him to leave as it is for me to let him go. At least I can hope.

My heart feels like it's about to burst from my chest as I watch him go. I want to tell him so much more, to find the words to express how I feel. But they're tangled up in my throat, trapped behind my lips. I feel a stab of frustration, knowing that despite all the progress I've made over the years, I'm still not able to be completely confident with myself. Finn closes the door behind him, and the familiar sound of the click seems to echo through the room. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. It's not just his physical presence that has me so wound up; it's the way he looks at me, like he sees right through my carefully constructed facade.

I turn back to the task at hand and let my dress drop to the ground. I step out of it and take a deep breath, changing into my slip. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I remember Finn's words and the way he looked at me. I'm not sure what it is about him that makes me feel this way, but I can't deny I still have feelings for him.

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my slip and walking back out into the room. Finn is still there, sitting on the bed, and he looks up at me as I enter. There's an awkward silence as we both seem to be struggling for words. I want to say something, anything, to break the tension, but the only sound is the soft rustling of the sheets as he shifts in his seat.

"So…um…" I start, clearing my throat. "Do you have a preferred side?" I gesture to the bed, not quite able to meet his gaze.

"The side by the door," he says, his voice low and steady. He stands, pulling back the blankets and hopping under them without taking his eyes off me. The sight of his bare chest sends another wave of heat through me, and I wonder if he can see the blush that's surely spreading across my cheeks.

I nod, feeling a little foolish, and climb into the bed, taking the side opposite him. We lay there for a moment, the space between us feeling like an unbridgeable chasm. The silence is thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. I stare at the ceiling, listening to the faint sound of his breathing.

"Lily," he says, his voice cutting through the quiet. I turn to look at him, and our eyes lock. "You don't have to be so… guarded around me. I know you're strong, but it's okay to lean on someone."

The sincerity in his voice hits me like a sledgehammer. No one has ever talked to me the way he does "I want to," I say, my voice shaking slightly. "But…I don't know how I can."

Finn's expression softens, and he reaches out to take my hand. His touch sends a warm current through my body, and I can't help but feel comforted. "I'll be here," he says gently. "As long as it takes." We lay there for a few moments, our fingers intertwined, and I realised that maybe, just maybe, I can let down my walls a little. "I'm scared," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what he'll do to me."

Finn's grip tightens, and he sits up, turning to face me. "You don't have to be scared anymore. I'll protect you." His eyes are filled with determination, and for the first time since I stepped into this mess, I feel a real glimmer of hope.

I swallow hard, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. "And who is going to protect you?" I ask.

His grip on my hand loosens and he reaches over, pulling me close so that my head rests against his chest. The warmth and safety of his embrace is surprisingly comforting, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. "I can handle myself," he says, his voice soothing. "But I have Anthony and Sofia, and now you."

We lay there for what feels like an eternity, our hearts beating in sync. His arms are comforting, he's holding me tight but not too tight, like he knows I need the space to breathe. I can't remember the last time I felt so safe.

"How did you get involved with the Rossi's?" I ask, breaking the silence. It's a question I've wanted to ask for a long time, but I was always too scared to know the answer.

Finn's expression turns serious, and he sighs deeply. "It's a long story," he says. "But the short of it is, I saved Anthony from drowning. We became friends."

"That's it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "I imagined something much worse than that."

"Yeah, it's a bit anticlimactic compared to the movies, huh?" He strokes my hair gently. "But after that, when they needed someone they could trust, they called on me."

I lean into his touch, feeling the tension in my body start to melt away. "It's a good thing you know how to swim," I murmur, a small smile playing on my lips. He chuckles, and the sound rumbles through his chest.

"It's been a good thing a few times," he says. The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, it's almost easy to forget the chaos that's been my life since my boyfriend's betrayal. "Goodnight, Lily," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Finn," I reply, feeling his arms tighten around me before his breathing evens out into the steady rhythm of sleep. I lay there for a while, listening to the comforting sound and contemplating the strange twist of fate that has brought us back together. Despite the darkness that surrounds us, there's a warmth here that I haven't felt in a very long time.

As my eyes drift closed, my thoughts swirl with memories of our shared past. High school seems like a lifetime ago, a time of innocence and carefree days. We'd been friends then, the kind of friendship that felt like it could last forever. But life had other plans, and we drifted apart. Now, in the most unlikely of places, we've found each other again, bound by a web of danger and deceit.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight