#hand wave sensor

[cinakira]

double function IR sensor switch (hand wave sensor and door trigger sensor )for DC12v Led lights or led strips .

Compared with our common door trigger sensor or hand wave sensor ,this one can make lights gradually on and off which is better for our eyes .

door trigger sensor #wardrobe door sensor #cabinet door trigger sensor switch #12v cabinet door trigger sensor switch#led cabinet light sensor

[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

[kissenturine]

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀 boothill x m!reader — 3.3k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: mechanic!reader, sub!reader, reader gives boothill a dick, reader takes away his censorship, mean dom!boothill, maybe ooc!boothill, fingering, heavy heavy dirty talk, boothill calls reader a whore & slut, boothill steps on reader's dick, blowjobs (boothill receiving), degradation. lmk if i missed anything!!

KAI SAYS: boy am i down bad for this little space cowboy

As a hardworking mechanic, you often pride yourself on your accomplishments. You—like any decent one—had many. From what you worked with to what you managed to fix, there were many things that could be considered impressive to a crowd.

None of them, however, were as impressive as the time you managed to remove Boothill’s censorship and give him back what he called: “a missing piece of his heart.”

Your dimly lit mechanic shop is cluttered with tools amongst other sharp things. Scattered about every flat surface usable is a screw, nail, wire, metal board—anything you could make use of. In the centre of the workshop is the only real space you kept clean.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a large, metallic workbench. It’s impressive, to say the least. Hooked up to an uncountable number of wires, switches and knobs decorating the sides, tools hanging from hooks, everything about it is a sight to behold.

What’s more impressive—even more magnificent—is the man sitting on top of it.

With his legs sprawled out and his head idly lolling from side to side, Boothill himself is a man to bless the eyes. The way his body worked, how each wire and sensor inside his cyborg body worked in tandem with each other to create the masterpiece that was him.

Of course, you only think like that because you’re a mechanic. You know how hard it is to put together a synesthetic body part, let alone a whole human being.

To people who don’t know the complexities of machinery, they might just think he’s a handsome cyborg. And really, they weren’t wrong. Whoever created his body, whether it was Boothill himself or another person, was quite the artist with the way they’d managed to create Boothill as a cyborg and still leave in his human charm.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Boothill grumbles, pulling you very quickly out of your thoughts. “Ya gonna continue starin’ or ya gonna actually help a guy out?” He waved at the dent in his hip, a noticeable cave to the metal plate.

“Yes, yes.” You huff. While you did find the cyborg part of Boothill impressive, his personality… not so much. He was endearing at times, but mostly he could be a pain in the ass.

A lot of the time, he’d get himself scratched and broken just to come back to you only when he’s on the brink of shutting down. Or, he’d either only come to you with the smallest, most irrelevant and easy-to-fix problems known to man.

His current state being the latter.

You make your way carefully over to Boothill, dropping to your knees beside the workbench to inspect the minimal damage done to his hip. “It’s… not even that bad.” You murmur, eyes darting up to his. “You could probably play it off as a hip dip or something.”

“Nope!” Boothill grunts, moving his metallic hand to tap against the metal of his hip. “Not happenin’ cutie. Need this body o’ mine to be in tip-top condition for my next bounty.” He grins widely, stretching his legs in front of him as he rests his arms back behind his head.

You only roll your eyes in response, already pulling out your screwdriver to replace Boothill’s so-called “broken” hip. “Whatever you say then…” You grumble, working away at the screws on the plate.

“Thanks, sweet cheeks.” Boothill hums, absentmindedly picking at the metal of his shoulder.

You wince at the nickname, your eyes shifting from where you’re working to Boothill’s face. “What’s with the nicknames…?” You say, voicing your curiosity. “We’ve known each other for what, six months now?” You raise an eyebrow at him before you continue. “Six months, and we're not even dating yet you always seem to use some form of a nickname.”

“Well,” Boothill hums, “the guy that made this good ol’ body of mine decided I would benefit from losing a thing or two. Those bein’ my ability to swear and of course my clock.”

“Your… clock?” You give him a confused look as you screw the metal back into place, finishing off his new hip.

“No, no, cutie, not an actual clock.” Boothill rolls his eyes. “My, uh, manhood, ya know?”

“Your…” You trail off. “Oh.”

He grins at you, opening his legs widely on the table. “Look if ya want, I got nothin’ to hide down there.” He gives you a wink before leaning further into your workbench.

You glance down at his crotch and see that it is, indeed, very flat. I guess what he said is true then…

You’re about to pick up your tools when you hear Boothill call for you, his name dropping from his lips. “Hey, uh, you don’t happen to have any o’ those synesthetic clocks, do ya?”

You give Boothill a blank look. While you did have a few lying around, as per a customer who was willing to pay a hefty price of seven million credits for one, you didn’t think Boothill would want one.

“Yeah…” You eventually respond. “I do.”

Boothill’s eyes widen as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. “Oh, mother fudgin’!” He says before eagerly jumping off the workbench. “Please,” he begs, “ya gotta hook me up with one! Haven’t felt it in so long, ‘s like a piece of my heart’s been missing!”

You cringe at his choice of terminology before looking up at the pleading man. “Well, they cost a hefty price—”

“I’m willin’ t’pay!” Boothill cries, the same pleading tone still present in his voice. “Please, anythin’ for my clock back!”

“I—y’know what, fine.” You grumble, not having the energy to think up an argument. You wave your hand at your workbench. “Sit on the edge while I grab one. I’m just gonna assume you want the biggest size.”

You hear the faint rumble of Boothills laugh. “Oh, darlin’ you know me so well!”

You roll your eyes, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer where you kept your synesthetic… manhoods. You eye them all, cautiously taking one on the very left end before closing the drawer and going back up to Boothill.

“So.” You say, holding the synesthetic member awkwardly in front of Boothill. “Eight inches, pretty thick, the colour an’ design of the metal goes pretty well with your cyborg parts, I think it matches you.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Boothill grins, his sharp teeth shining under the light. “Now that's what I’m talking about. Can’t wait to have my fudgin’ shift back.”

You roll your eyes at the censorship before tapping Boothill’s knee. “Spread your legs, gotta get to you if you want me to actually put this on.”

Boothill gives you a teasing look and you already know what he’s about to comment on. “If you wanted to see my new duck in action, ya could’ve jus’ asked.” He grins and you roll your eyes again. Just what you predicted.

“Shut up and spread your legs.” You say, a harsh tone evident in your voice. This time Boothill complies, his knees spreading as you once again take your place, kneeling on the floor—this time between his legs.

Slowly, you unscrew the metal panel on Boohill’s crotch area.

Once it’s fully out, you take a peek into the hole you just opened, trying to grasp what you’re working with. You puff out your cheeks, sighing as you peer into the hole between Boothill’s legs.

There’s an assortment of jumbled wires, a few switches, and—is that a remote control? With two fingers, you manage to pry your way into the cavity in Boothill’s crotch. Lithly and carefully, you pull the remote from the little clasp it was stuck in before sliding it out.

You inspect it cautiosly, taking note of how there’s only one singular switch on the flat of it. You contemplate flipping it, but then it crosses your mind that touching random things that came from inside Boothill’s body wasn’t the best idea.

Setting the remote to the side for later, you continue your work with Boothill’s new member.

Carefully, very, very carefully, you attach each wire to the base of Boothill’s new appendage, making sure everything is kept neat and tidy. With a quick glance up at Boothill, you can instantly tell he’s at least somewhat relaxed.

“Boothill.” You call, tapping the inside of his metal thigh. “I’m gonna connect the synesthesia now, so you might get a bit…” You cough awkwardly. “Aroused… But just ignore it and try not to like—y’know, cum all over my face.”

Boothill grins down at you, once again flashing you his sharp teeth. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ve got some self-control.”

You nod your head, cautiously pushing the two wires together. The instant you twist them into place, you hear Boothill let out a loud groan. “Fudge, I missed this.” He murmurs, his dick twitching to life right in front of your face.

The sight, being able to watch as the new tip of his metal cock twitches and lifts, sends a shiver down your spine—one you chose to ignore as much as possible. Your hands go back to his shaft, gently pressing a screw in and Boothill lets out a loud hiss, his dick twitching in your hand.

“Darlin’ you’re teasin’ me.” He grunts before peering down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You don’t say anything, making sure to work carefully at his dick, making sure everything is functioning. As you trail your hand along the underside of his shaft, Boothill’s thigh twitches, pushing against your head and forcing your face closer to his cock.

You let out a squeal of surprise, eyes darting up to Boothill, whose face is flushed a warm pink with his teeth pulled between his lips. “Didn’t know this would affect you this much.” You murmur, a playful edge in your voice. You hate to admit it, but you’re already half-hard from being so close to Boothill and working on him in such an… intimate way.

“Shut it, darling.’” The cyborg grunts, and you laugh at the way his hands curl into fists beside him. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“I can tell.” You hum, tapping his tip a few times and smirking at the loud groan that leaves his lips.

“Fudging—” Boothill grunts, his hand grabbing tightly at your shoulder as you stand up. “Such a fudgin’ tease, aren’t ya, sweetie?”

“Dunno what you're talking about Boothill.” You say, feigning innocence. Sitting up from your kneeling position you grab the remote. “Any idea what this is?” You question, showing it to Boothill.

He eyes it carefully before shrugging. “Nah, got no clue.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” You huff. “Cause I found it inside you.”

Boothill gapes at you, his jaw going slack. “Inside me!?” He roars. “And you just—just took it out!? What if I need that to live?!”

“Relax, cowboy,” you groan, his loud voice getting on your nerves slightly, “it wasn’t connected to anything, and you seem pretty fine now.”

Boothill glares at you seemingly having forgotten about his rock-hard erection standing tall against his metal abs. “Give it here.” He says, making a ‘give’ motion with his fingers. He practically snatches it from your hand the instant you’re within arm's reach, his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer as he grabs at the remote. “Hmm…” He hums, inspecting it in his hands. Slowly, he slides the panel down, revealing two short words that make the two of you gasp.

“Censorship… Control.” Boothill reads, and you instantly snatch the remote into your hands.

“Hey!” Boothill yells! “Wait a darn minute—I need that!”

“No,” you respond flatly, “you don’t. Whoever built in that censorship must’ve done it for a reason—”

“Yeah!” Boothill grunts. “To annoy the fudge outa me!” He growls again, desperately trying to reach for the remote again. “Oh, fudgin’ give it! What’ll it take for you to give me the darn thing?!”

You grin.

Finally, he asked.

“I think a good enough payment would be to test out this new dick of yours.”

Boothill’s expression turns from anger and annoyance to a smirk in the blink of an eye. His hands are no longer grabbing at the remote, and instead resting on your waist. “Oh?” He coos. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” He smirks, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “But a test drive would be so much more fun if I had my swearin’ back. Think of all the dirty lil’ things I could say to you, hm?”

Your face flushes as you feel Boothill’s cool breath fan over your ear. “I bet you'd really like if I turned it off, be able to swear to your heart’s content” You do your best to stand your ground, ignoring the blood that rushes to your cock and the way your pants grow tight. “But I think I can think of a better way to put your mouth to use.”

Boothill growls lowly, his grip moving from your waist to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze. “Turn it off and I might just show you what this mouth of mine is capable of.”

“Hmph.” You grunt. “Fine. Let's see how dirty this mouth of yours can get, Boothill." You whisper, your warm breath fanning over his chest. With that, you’re flicking his censorship off, once again leaving Boothill free to say whatever he wants.

“Atta boy.” He growls.

Boothill’s eyes narrow as you flick the remote, effectively ending his censorship. Your face flushes, watching his lips pull into a wide grin as he grips your ass, tugging down your pants and leaving them dropped at your ankles. “Don’t worry whore, I’ll show you just how good I am.” Boothill growls, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll have you screaming my name while you’re wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You don’t say anything, only moving to press your face further into his neck.

“I’ll tell you every dirty word, every filthy thought that crosses my mind while I pound into your tight fuckin’ hole.” Boothill groans, starting to tug down your boxers too.

And suddenly, like he only now could process the extent that he could speak, Boothill is tugging you away from him only to press his lips harshly into you, murmuring into the kiss as he does. “You little slut, I’m gonna fuck you till you’re stuffed fuckin’ full of my dick. You’ll be drenched in your own cum, worshiping my cock, begging for more.” He lets out a loud groan, pulling away. “And don’t think you can fuckin’ hide, ‘cause I’ll take you right here an’ now, on your stupid workbench.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, watching the sight of your absolute arousal dripping down your dick.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ hard.” He wraps his palm around your cock, giving it a sharp tug before pulling his hand away only to return with a sharp slap against your tip. “Bet you’d pull your pants down for anyone on the street, like a common whore.”

You whine, knees buckling at the slap. You collapse onto Boothill’s chest, letting out a plethora of pathetic sounds as you do.

“Aww.” Boothill coos, lifting your chin to face him. “This weak already?”

He grips your body, getting off your workbench only to lay you on top of it. You lay flat on your tummy, with you face pressed into the thin padding of the workbench.

“You’re gonna be a good boy now, an’ take what I give you, ‘kay?” Boothil says, bending your knees to push your ass into the air. His finger teases your puckered hole, tracing your rim, but never pushing anything in,

“Boothill.” You whine. “Put it in already!”

“What’d I say?” Boothill growls, bringing down a hand against your ass in a harsh spank. “That you’re gonna take what?”

“T-Take what you give me!” You whine, pressing your face into the cushion in embarrassment.

You can’t believe what’s currently happening. Here you are, face down and your ass in the air as Boothill eases a finger into your tight hole, occasionally giving mean spanks against your balls and ass.

Eventually, Boothill presses his first finger in. The feeling makes you gasp out, your back arching against the workbench. His fingers are so thick. You whine out, instinctively rocking your hips against his fingers.

“That’s it.” Boothill praises, bringing a hand to rub your back gently. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, like a good lil’ slut.” He presses in another finger, beginning to match the pace of your hips as he curls them.

He thrusts them in and out, and in and out until you’re seeing stars. Your eyes are rolled back, drool slipping from your lips as you moan and writhe against Boothill’s hand. He curls his fingers, easily finding your prostate and laughing cruelly when your dick twitches.

“Fuck, you’re so easy.” He moans, watching you fuck against his fingers. Slowly, he grabs his new metal dick, dragging the cool tip across the crack of your ass. You whine, your eyes squeezing shut at the cold sensation.

“Boothill!” You moan out. “D-Don’t stop, I—I’m so close!”

“Oh?” He questions. “And who told you that you had any right to tell me what to do?”

Just like that, he’s pulling his fingers away from you. You’re a whining, crying mess at that. Sobbing about how you needed his fingers, his dick, his anything to make you come. “Please!” You beg. “Need t’cum so badly!”

“Really?” Boothill smirks. “If that’s really what you want…” He tugs you off the workbench, watching you fall to the floor into a pathetic heap. “Then beg me for it.”

You nod eagerly, instantly getting on your knees and kissing against Boothill’s hard cock. The rough concrete of the floor is painful against your bare knees, but you can make due.

You’re quick to take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the cool metal before pressing your lips slightly lower. Your tongue presses down, forced to drag along his underside the more you take him in.

You blink up at Boothill, tears welling in your eyes as you plead with him to help you. Help you. Use you. It didn’t matter.

Boothill lets out a tsk before grabbing your hair harshly. “What happened to my smart mechanic I knew so well? When’d he get replaced by this cock-hungry bitch who can’t even suck dick to save his life?”

At that, Boothill’s pressing your face all the way down. Your nose pokes at the cold metal of his pelvis before he’s pulling you back and thrusting his dick deep down your throat. He sets a quick pace, fucking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a fleshlight for him to use and throw away at his disposal.

Your jaw hangs slack, tongue forcefully dragging along the metal of his cock. Drool slips from your lips but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when your mouth is being stuffed so full. Boothill’s pace quickens and you moan weakly around his cock, feeling something poke at your own.

From what you manage to see through the corner of your eye, Boothill is stepping on your dick, rubbing the sole of his dirty shoe against your tip as it leaks precum all over the rough concrete. The feeling of his shoe on your dick, his cock stuffing your mouth—it’s all enough to send you over the edge.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your cock twitching pathetically under Boothill’s shoe as you shoot ropes of cum from your tip. Some of it sticks to the bottom of his shoe, and some squirts farther. Boothill laughs, rubbing his shoe harder into your dick, watching you whine around his cock.

“C’mon slut, you can take it. This is the payment you wanted, so don’t go crying on me now.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[buntanteen]

sweet and loving boyfriend!joshua headcanons <3 (sfw)

summary: shua and reader romantic relationship headcanons :3 (you can read as a stand alone or as a part of the upcoming jihan poly relationship!!)

contains: mushy romance. implications that reader speaks korean & english

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

boyfriend!joshua who'll let you cling and bite onto his thick ass arms and put your face in his tiddies😌

sunday mornings are exclusively quality time with boyfriend!joshua. y'all will be making a breakfast spread or sitting on the balcony soaking in the sunrise, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. joshie’s absolute favourites are rainy sunday mornings (…WE KNOW WHY) and he will smoother you with in bed cuddles <3 🥹

boyfriend!joshua who is completely and utterly enamoured by you. the two of you will make eye contact and he'll hit you with that lil ◠‿◠ smile and then you're melting and now he's melting and you're both melting, and the members are disgusted at how ooey gooey y'all are being

disgustingly sweet boyfriend!joshua who always does cheesy shit to make you blush. he’ll ask "hey, can you hold this for me? ><" and then proceed to put his hand in yours fgjkdbs

having to compromise with boyfriend!joshua about texting back because why does this man not reply to people??

boyfriend!joshua who will always order food for you!! and will always feed you the perfectly made bites of his meal as well :3

boyfriend!joshua who likes to share his specific taste in things (furniture, perfumes, jewellery, etc.) with you. even if you aren't for fancy things, you'll show interest for him because it makes him happy 😊

an absolute sucker for seasonal or weather-based dates. especially water based dates...what can i say boyfriend!joshua likes water. is so so happy in the rain, just running around splashing puddles (what can i say...he likes water :3)

winter dates: going ice skating and when u fall boyfriend!joshua skates up to u in distress and asks if u need some ice for that😑will buy you snacks at the street vendors as an apology and to warm you up <3

summer dates: at the beach where boyfriend!joshua loves taking sunset pics of you to make his phone's lockscreen and background

boyfriend!joshua who can't meet you empty handed and will get you random things such as lil drinks, a pair of socks cuz they were cute or an expensive ass perfume cuz he thinks it'll smell nice on you :3

boyfriend!joshua who will sweetly serenade you with his guitar…and then bust out the sunday morning because he got too shy afterwards

on days where you don't feel the best, boyfriend!joshua will come home to you with a care package when you feel down and absolutely pamper you with whatever you desire until you feel better. he'll definitely do that head patting thing to you 🥹

boyfriend!joshua kissing your hand as he leaves for his schedules. you tightening your grip and pulling him closer, causing him to do that delighted laugh of his before he gives you a proper goodbye kiss gjkfbd

matchy matchy outfits and items with boyfriend!joshua 🥰 loves when you’re matching him with a phone case or a keychain or jewellery or the entire fit

boyfriend!joshua being a gentleman and you being a one right back at him. it becomes a competition atp for who can do the more chivalrous thing. you opening his car door after he's driven you to your date destination? he'll open up the door to the establishment for you (he waved open to the sensor door thing lmao)

boyfriend!joshua u find him not crazy but it turns out u just are the same level of freak as him :D he's just crazy and crazy for you <3

trying out different hands on activities with boyfriend!joshua!! y’all are on a mission to try to impress his momma with baked goods (cuz wdym making cookies is easy THAT SHIT IS DIFFICULT😭)

switching languages with boyfriend!joshua during conversations. pulling different english or korean words whilst the members just stare at you confused (vernon either joins in or is in his own world)

boyfriend!joshua sweetly calling you “baby” or “yeobo”. or will casually call you “babe”. calls you “my baby” “my darling” in very romantic moments or when he wants something really badly cuz he knows it'll make you fold 😌

always making boyfriend!joshua laugh because it makes you so happy to see him so happy. his laughter pierces you, blooming and spreading joy throughout your body

boyfriend!joshua who is just a soft lover with a glowing warmth to him. he's the rays of the sunset that warms you after a long day with the promise of a better tomorrow <3

ames note: i am so SOOOO down bad for this man it is crazyyy. his recent live was my first ever live of joshie and i was just?? giggling??? and smiling??? so much!?!? svt at lollapalooza is in just over a day!! i hope everyone can enjoy ittttt (it is at like 3am for me rip. i hope y'all enjoyeddddd the writinggg~ i'm gonna write a jeonghan and jihan poly headcanon at some point idk when tho <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (II)

Summary: Things get complicated, but you find yourself sharing a bed with Miguel… once again. Too bad someone else is in the room.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Sharing one bed. Semi-public. Blue balls. Sexual tension. Mutual masturbation. Creampie. Implied cockwarming.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1. (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one, though)

You were fucked.

Extremely fucked.

Not only had the anomaly managed to slip through your fingers, effectively disabling the trackers scattered around, but you were also fucked, because now you were left to deal with the aftermath of a very intimate encounter with Miguel.

It was nearly five in the morning and the night was nowhere near being done. Fortunately, it had stopped raining, which helped with visibility and grip, and having Lyla assist you as in replacing the faulty sensors was also very much welcome.

“Sensor 24 up and running,” the AI’s sing-song voice announced, as the device bleeped green.

You leapt over the railing, shooting a string of web to the side of the hotel, so you could swing through the window.

As you landed with a clumsy thump, you noticed Miguel had already gotten back from his reconnaissance check.

He looked positively… pissed off.

Great.

“Lyla, call her,” her grumbled, checking his watch.

“Already did,” she announced, appearing by his shoulder. “Want me to run a diagnostics of the perimeter once again?”

“Do it in five minute intervals,” he said flatly. “The anomaly must be nearby.”

You removed your mask and considered sitting on the bed, but were soon reminded that not even thirty minutes ago, you were getting fucked by Miguel.

A shudder ran through your body.

“You okay?” he asked, his narrowed eyes on you.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

The problem with having impromptu sex was that now you were left to deal with the soreness between your legs, and the frustration of an orgasm that never came to be.

Did Miguel feel the same way?

Your eyes roamed his body, and you find yourself glaring at his-

“Hey! I need you to focus,” Miguel said with a snap of his fingers. “There’s still a chance we deal with it tonight.”

You were about to snap back when a loud distorted buzz filled the room, swirls of flashing lights nearly blinding you, as the inter-dimensional portal expanded quickly in pulsating waves.

Through came Jessica Drew, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel growled, pointing at Peter.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening in confusion.

Miguel wasn’t known to be a very patient man, and you reckoned his patience was now hanging by a thread. “I called for Jess. Not you.”

Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Easy, Miguel. We were both on the same mission.”

He straightened up, but crossed his arms. “Right.”

“Care to explain why I had to leave to be here?” she went on, resting on hand on her swollen belly. “How did you lose track of the anomaly?”

He exchanged a brief look with you. “The sensors didn’t alert us in time.”

That was true.

“Weren’t you supposed to be monitoring, regardless?”

“We dozed off,” you chimed in. “Momentarily! Just for a while.”

Not really true…

Jess glanced at you, suspicion written all over face.

“Sleeping on the job,” she then chuckled, eyeing Miguel deviously. “Didn’t think you’d ever do that, Miguel.”

He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “We weren’t sleeping. We were just resting our eyes for a moment.”

A blatant lie.

“What’s that on your neck?” Peter suddenly asked with a worried look on his face.

Oh….

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the tender hickey spot. “Bug bite.”

“Allergic reaction,” Miguel blurted out at the same time.

Fuck.

You shot him a murderous look.

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?”

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite,” Miguel said with a shrug, growing visibly annoyed.

A wave of relief washed over you momentarily. That seemed plausible enough.

But…

“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile. “What bug? A spid-”

But Miguel was already cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this!”

Peter walked to you, craning your neck to the side. “You should have it checked. It looks serious.”

Ah, Peter… ever the innocent.

“Jess, you stay with us,” Miguel says, dragging Peter away from you at once. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”

She frowned. “No. Peter stays. I need to get some sleep,” she said, patting her belly.

“No!” Miguel growled.

“Actually, I was thinking of heading back home,” Peter drawled out, rubbing the back of his head. “Mayday should be waking up soon.”

“And I’m pregnant,” Jess shot, holding her chin high.

Peter swallowed and fell silent. The deal was sealed.

“Lyla, any updates?”

The hologram popped up instantly. “No, boss.”

Jess glanced over at you one last time, before stepping into the portal once again. “You should really have that checked. Whatever bug did that seems… vicious,” she then slipped into the vortex, which vanished behind her.

You momentarily froze in place, feeling the dread of realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.

She knew.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter drawled out with a yawn and a stretch, disappearing into the bathroom.

The moment you heard rhe door click shut, you turned to Miguel.

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite?” you hissed.

He scowled deeply. “Because simply saying bug bite sounded ridiculous.”

“She didn’t believe it, regardless.”

Miguel was suddenly towering over you, his face twisted in annoyance. “Then why does it matter?”

“Because… you gave me a visible hickey!”

It was a silly thing to get upset about. There were worse things in life than having Miguel O’Hara marking you as a result of built up sexual tension.

But you didn’t want to give in.

“Got carried away,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…”

He cleared his throat. “But I have a problem.”

You looked up at him. “What problem?”

“Well…” he said, glancing at the bathroom door.

“Peter?”

“No!”

You clicked your tongue. “Then what?”

His placed both hands on his hips and glanced down.

Your eyes followed suit.

Oh.

Oh.

“What? Why are you… what?” you stuttered in disbelief at the sight of the outline of his hardened cock.

“Biology, remember?” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not going away.”

You somehow managed to tear your eyes from the impressive bulge. “Go jerk off, then!”

He had you walk back until you hit the wall behind. “It won’t go away.”

Had you just given Miguel blue balls?

“How’s that my problem?” you huffed, staring intensely into his crimson eyes.

“This is all your fault.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were blaming Biology.”

Before Miguel could retort, the sudden squeak of a door being swung open, had you slipped past him.

Peter emerged, eyeing you both. “Oh, I see what this is.”

Miguel had to move strategically in order to hide his raging boner from him. “What do you mean?”

“I know what’s up with you two,” Peter said, with a playful grin. “All the whispering and whatnot.”

Great.

Were you two that transparent?

“Huh…”

Miguel had pursed his lips.

Peter paced closer to you, eyeing you with a knowing smile. “You’re deciding on Jessica’s birthday present, right?”

You blinked a few times and heard Miguel exhale nearby.

“Right? I knew it!” he threw his arms in the air as if he’d just won the lottery.

In truth, you were simply baffled at how innocent Peter could be. The immediate weight that was lifted off your shoulders was enough to draw a laugh from you.

“Sure!”

“Of course, Peter,” Miguel said, voice dripping with his trademark sarcasm. “We went on this mission, so we could go through birthday checklists.”

A layer of pride settled on Peter’s face. “Ah! You’re growing soft, Miguel.”

You winced at his poor choice of words.

“But fear not!” he said as if he was about to fight off the anomaly himself. “We’ll take turns watching. You two can get some rest and properly plan it out,” he then pinched his thumb and index finger together and dragged them across his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Miguel didn’t budge at first, but you were all too grateful to stop this insane conversation altogether.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Of course,” he smiled widely, pacing to the open hotel window, leaping into the the sky night.

You shot Miguel one last look before slipping inside into the comfort of the bedsheets, welcoming the softness.

But you were sorely mistaken if you thought Miguel wouldn’t have followed you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two.

You had turned to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint, and leave you be.

But once you felt his erection pressing into your ass, you knew you were a goner.

There was something extremely empowering about having a man like Miguel be so needy and desperate.

He scooted closer until his breath fanned your ear. “Can you just…”

You scoffed, pride swelling inside you. “Go ask Biology to jerk you off.”

“Whawt?”

“You keep blaming it, so…”

Silence fell between you two.

His hand then came to grip your hip. “It’s you.”

“I didn’t catch that,” you said, feeling his thumb rubbing gently, as he pushed the top half of your suit increasingly higher.

He rolled his hips into you, letting out a shaky moan in your ear that had your skin raise with goosebumps.

You flipped onto your other side to fully face him, and Miguel immediately took your lips with his, kissing you hungrily.

His hand dragged the fabric all the way up until he managed to expose one breast, breaking the kiss only to move down to suck on your hardened nipple.

The thought that he might be too much vaguely crossed your mind. For the second time that night you were meeting a side of Miguel that you had never seen before.

A side you much preferred.

Your fingers dragged through his hair, silently praising him.

In no time, you watched his digital suit disintegrate, giving you full access to the beautifully sculped body underneath.

He gripped your wrist and lowered it until your fingers grazed his cock. Knowing fully well what he craved, you wrapped them around it, earning an immediate jerk of his hips.

“Miguel…” you moaned, letting him freely fuck your hand, spilling more and more precum.

He released your nipple and had his forehead resting on your shoulder, his hand on top of your, making sure you squeezed tighter and tighter.

It didn’t take long for your hand to be soaked with precum, making it easier for him to slide up and down.

You squeezed involuntarily and a gush of wetness spilled into your underwear, your body yearning for him to fill you up with his cock.

He moved his hips deliciously, and you focused on taking in the wet sounds that filled the room as well as his breathless grunts.

But such bliss was short-lived as you heard Peter bolting into the room with a swish of his web.

Well…

Miguel immediately stilled, letting go of your hand.

You didn’t let go of his cock, instead peeking over his shoulder only to find Peter rolling out a sleeping bag on the floor.

He then turned to face you, and your head immediately slumped against the pillow, eyes on Miguel’s.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Peter’s voice was but a whisper. “Your heart rate is accelerated.”

Ah… spider senses.

“Yeah… I’m just a bit tense… it’s fine,” you muttered, feeling Miguel’s cock twitch in your hand. “Go get some rest. I’ll take over.”

“Oh! Thank you,” he beamed. “Mayday has been giving us terrible nights, and I could use a few minutes.”

You watched as he fluffed out his pillow before settling down on his back with a yawn.

Miguel’s breathing has steadied momentarily and you eventually let go of him.

But he quickly got a hold of your wrist.

The implication of that action wasn’t exactly subtle and you widened your eyes.

“No,” you mouthed right away.

His crimson eyes had darkened and you spotted his fangs from behind his lips.

You shook your head vehemently.

This was a bad idea.

But as soon as Peter’s snores tore through the room, you felt your heart clench.

“Peter is right there… he will hear it!”

He pressed an urgent kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be quiet. I’ll help you be quiet,” he promised, pressing his cock further into your already soaked crotch.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as you were about to let out a low whimper, you felt his hand cover your mouth, effectively reigning it in.

“Quiet.”

The other travelled down painfully slowly, palm grazing your exposed breast briefly, before resting just above the waistline of your suit.

“You have to be quiet,” he warned in a barely audible tone.

You nodded and he lifted his hand from your lips.

“We shouldn’t…” you muttered under your breath.

But your words were not matching your actions, as you dragged your hand covered in precum across his hard chest, taking your time to gently rub his nipple with your thumb.

You thought Miguel had stopped breathing altogether, but soon realised he was merely attempting to hold back a moan.

His fingers quickly slipped past the the waistline, finding your clit and drawing small circles. You had to bite your lip hard to suppress a whimper, rolling your hips into him.

You found his cock again, gripping it desperately and giving him a few pumps that matched the tempo of his strokes.

The thrill of indulging in such experience even when someome else was in the room, and with the increased chances of being caught, merely added to the pleasure you were already feeling.

“You’re doing good,” Miguel praised you through a shaky breath. “So good…”

Impatience took over and you wiggled out of your bottom half of the suit, allowing you to grant him betterr acces, as hou parted your legs.

He immediately seized it and slipped one finger inside.

You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from groaning, eyes fluttering shut.

His breath was on your ear again. “Can you take one more?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. A second finger immediately joined the first one, slinding inside effortlessly.

Feeling that you had managed to keep yourself under control, you dropped the hand covering your lips to grip his cock.

“And another one?”

You shook your head, fearing that would be too much. He pressed a kiss to your neck with a sigh, as he fucked your hand in a slow rhythm.

The knots of pleasure in your lower abdomen let you know that you were headed towards the precipice. You kept on riding his fingers relentlessly, your mind suddenly hazy from the feeling of being so full of him already.

“I’m close…” he mouthed, his breath shaky and cock twitching.

He had bared his fangs, and you thought you’d combust on the spot, realising he was truly overwhelmed with pleasure.

Finding your voice again, you whispered sensually, “Where do you want to cum?”

His eyed widened, pupils fully blown.

Your hips faltered briefly, grazing your clit across the palm of his hand. “Inside?”

He pressed his eyes shut and dug his fangs into his lower lip. “I won’t last.”

“I know,” you moaned, dragging thumb across his tip, feeling more droplets of warm precum coating your skin.

Peter suddenly let out a loud snore that made you jolt.

“Are you close?” Miguel asked.

“I’ll be with you inside me.”

You shifted on the mattress, and he removed his fingers from you at once, a wet sound filling the room.

Your body shuddered from the loss, but you soon felt his tip proding your entrance.

Before you could take another breath, he jerked his hips and slipped past your fold effortlessly.

His hand was on your mouth again, and this time you could taste yourself, as he struggled to keep your moans at a minimum.

It was also evident the sudden position was taking a toll on him. His steady pace was faltering with each passing second.

You soon entered the familiar point of no return, feeling an intense wave of pleasure tear from within you, blinding your vision with each pulse and contraction. It took all of your not to moan out loud even against his hand, the few shreds of sanity having a hold on you.

Miguel joined you, clearly not able to withstand the rhythmic squeezes around his cock as you reached your high.

Your caught a glimpse oh him biting the back of his other hand hard. He would for sure draw blood with his fangs, but you couldn’t even stay properly focused.

He bottomed out as deep as he could, spurts of cum coating your squeezing walls.

The two of you were struggling to breathe, shallow pants surrounding you.

“Oh my god! Butterfly!”

Peter…

You jerked away from Miguel in distress but with him still buried deep inside you, catching a glimpse of Peter sitting on the floor, breathing rapidly.

“Go back to sleep. It was just a dream,” you said with a smile.

Miguel pulled you into an embrace. “You did good.”

“Me? Not Biology?”

He scowled deeply.

“You can slide out now…” you whispered with a yawn.

Miguel didn’t move. “I want to stay a little longer likes this.”

Masterlist

[teojira]

I saw that you had transformers on your fandom list, will you be willing to write a 'bot of choice x human reader jealousy/protectiveness fic? Like in that one scene from Transformers 2 where the Deception Pretender tried to seduce Sam but Bee absolutely wasn't having that but had to stay in car mode?

[Aren't you supposed to be more mature than this?]

Summary: Optimus knows better than to get attached to you (too late), he can't help but side eye you and a stranger interacting. (Based on Knightverse Optimus, after ROTB!)

Word count: 800+ words!

Pronouns: They/them

Warnings: Optimus is bad at feelings, Optimus being down bad, extremely self indulgent. Mainly Optimus' Pov as well! Lmk if I need to tag anything!

A/N: Everyone who knows me knows of my obsession and love for this man it's so bad, I have him tattooed and have a whole ass shrine I love HIMMM, Thank you sm for the request! He is the love of my life.

Optimus Prime has been called many things, many of which are true, things he'd accept with pride.

A great leader, a good friend, a valuable teammate, A war criminal.

A jealous bot was never one of them, until recently.

He wasn't sure when he started to take a shine towards you. Was it after Unicron? When he held you in his servos, cradling you to his chest as he transformed back into his bipedal form, only letting go of you after the confused looks from Bee and Mirage.

Maybe it was a while after that, when you offered to help clean him up, Noah was too busy rebuilding Mirage to offer his services to the big man himself.

Optimus could never wipe the feeling of your small hands gently running across his frame, taking extra care to mend any scratches you found, constantly checking in to make sure he was comfortable.

He's ashamed to admit, but he kept shuddering under your touch, his senses overwhelmed by your presence. Every time his cooling fans turned on, he'd wave it off as it was just hot outside. (it's 60 degrees out, liar.)

He tries to recharge that night, but the feeling in his chassis makes him restless. He can see his sensors go haywire at the mere thought of you. He is so fucked, he shuts his eyes and groans deeply, his mask shooting up to mask the sound, lest he wakes the others.

Primus help him.

With his new revelation, Optimus tries his best to distance himself towards you, always making excuses as to why he can't drive you home or to work (a flicker of jealously when Arcee offers, no one catches his digits curling ever so slightly into his palm), saying he must go on patrol for the time being. He waves you off when you try and care for him, asking if he'd like any help with any scrapes and dents, saying he can live with them, he's been through worse.

Its only natural that you'd give him some space, that's the kind of person you are, kind, loving, respectful, loyal to a fault, but it doesn't escape his notice when your smile falls after he politely tells you you're not needed, his spark aching when you turn around to go find another bot.

Optimus watches you now, stationed on the street.

He has no right to be upset when you're stopped outside of the garage by an older man, the man so clearly taking interest in you while you're very politely listening and nodding, shooting that oh so pretty smile to a man who he's sure is not fit to be anywhere near you, not worthy of the warm smile you wear.

It makes him seethe in jealousy, and it's scary.

He can not remember a time when he had ever been jealous. He's a prime. He was supposed to be a calm and collected leader and yet. And yet, he's so close to blowing his hor-

You suddenly whirl towards him. If he was any better of a man, he wouldn't immediately think of how cute you looked, how your lips moved as you let out a yelp.

It isn't until that thought passes his mind that he realizes he used his truckers horn. Embarrassment trickles through his body, although now he has your attention, and you are making your way towards him. The man following behind you keeps the conversation going, not catching a hint.

Optimus is ready to honk again, especially if this man keeps following so close behind you, way too close for comfort.

You beat him to it, turning around as you rest a hand on Optimus’ cabins door handle, shooting the man a polite smile.

“Sorry about that, but my husband is actually here to pick me up, so I have to go. Have a good day!” And You hoist yourself up, quickly buckling your seat belt, gently patting the dashboard in hopes Optimus fucking drives before you're bothered anymore.

Optimus’ processor buffers, his engine revving as he goes on autopilot to tale you both away. Does he know where to drive to? Certainly no, but you're with him now. He's sure you could ask him to take you to distant planets, and he'd make it work for you and only you.

“Thank you for the save, big guy.” You smile brightly at his steering wheel, your eyes lovingly trailing across the autobot symbol that sits in the center.

“It was nothing, I am glad to be there to assist.” The cabin rumbles with his voice, soothing your anxiety. You curl into your seat, resting your head.

“Where are we going?”

“If I'm not mistaken, you mentioned wanting to go to upstate New York to drive along some scenic routes? I'll gladly be your escort.”

He is so ridiculously falling for you, but he can't bring himself to hate it, especially when you excitedly hop in your seat.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Jealousy, jealousy

Word Count: 5.5k

Themes: fluff, pining, Sebastian is a bit of an ass. I left Y/N’s house as ambiguous as I could so you can use whichever one you like :)

Warnings: All characters aged up to 18+. Potential spoilers for HL

“You’re staring,” Ominis murmured before letting out a quiet sigh. “Again.”

“She’s talking to Weasley,” Sebastian muttered back, his arms folded across his chest.

“Which one?” he asked, a wry smile slipping into his face. Ominis didn’t need to be able to see to know Sebastian was glaring at him. 

“Garreth, you prat.” A brief silence fell over the pair as Sebastian continued to watch the interaction between Y/N and Garreth Weasley. Y/N threw her head back and laughed at something Garreth said, and Sebastian felt something in his chest tighten as the sun caught on the natural highlights hidden in her hair. “He can’t be that funny.” Garreth muttered something to Y/N and she turned in his direction to catch his eye. He felt every nerve in his body as she smiled sweetly at him and waved her fingers to say hello before looking back at the wizard in front of her. “He’s just using her.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ominis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise as he turned his head to look at Sebastian (he hoped he was, at least).

“Isn’t everyone?” Sebastian asked. Ominis had been there with him that fateful day in the bathrooms. They had both heard what had been said, had both heard the chorus of laughter and agreement that followed.

“Everyone but you, you mean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ominis,” he looked away from Y/N to narrow his eyes at his friend beside him. “You’re not using her either.”

“Aren’t I?” Ominis asked. There was a beat of silence between them before he laughed loudly at the lack of response from the brunet, and he could almost picture the incredulous look being shot his way.

Sebastian would blame the sun, he decided, if anyone asked why he was frowning in your direction. It had come out today, and the trio had taken advantage of the warmth it provided to sit in the gardens by the north entrance for the castle. It seemed they hadn’t been the only ones to have the idea and it wasn’t long before Y/N had leapt from her position in the grass next to him to greet Natsai Onai and the red-clad gaggle that seemed to follow. Sebastian couldn’t help but begrudge Natty (who was a wonderful witch despite being in Gryffindor) from stealing you away from him. He had been content with your arm pressed against his, your legs touching as you stretched out beside him, head almost resting on his shoulder as you watched the clouds drift by. 

Ominis twirled his wand idly in his hands, the sensor pulsing every-so-often to let him know Sebastian was still brooding beside him. Although he didn’t need it to, because if he listened carefully he could hear Sebastian mutter to himself occasionally as he more than likely watched Y/N from across the gardens. It wasn’t loud enough for Ominis to hear everything he was saying, but he did manage to catch phrases such as stupid Gryffindors and was just going to hold her hand. The latter made Ominis snort in amusement. Sebastian had been working up the courage to admit his feelings for the third member of their little group since the beginning of their sixth year, and now here they were nearing the end of their seventh and final year.

He had tried to tell Sebastian - time and time again - that there was nothing to fear and that he strongly suspected you returned his feelings, but he refused to listen. Ominis wouldn’t outright betray your trust and inform Sebastian of the late night conversations they shared where you voiced your concerns for the brunet, voice tinged with more than just friendly admiration. Instead, he subtly tried to push the pair together with flimsy excuses to explain his perpetual absence. Not that it did any good when either of you refused to acknowledge the Erumpent in the room. 

It could be worse, he mused, I could actually have to witness the pining between them, instead of just hearing about it.

“Get up,” Sebastian nudged Ominis gently and stood up. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to save Y/N,” Sebastian replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Y/N doesn’t need saving,” Ominis rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless, brushing grass from his robes. “In fact, I need to remind you that she has saved us. Several times.”

“Well, call this us returning the favour,” he tugged Ominis in the right direction softly before letting go of his robes and stalking over to where Y/N and Garreth were sat talking, set a little apart from the rest of the Gryffindors. “Y/N…Weasley.” He nodded once at the wizard and came to a stop right next to Y/N. Ominis, wand held aloft, offered the ground an awkward smile. “I can’t believe you left us for a bunch of Gryffindors,” he looked down at her, forcing a chuckle so he didn’t start an inter-house fight. “Are we not enough for you?”

“Don’t start,” Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “Garreth was just telling me about his newest potion idea.”

“Planning on getting her into more trouble by making her sneak into Sharp’s office for supplies again?” The comment earned Sebastian a nudge in the ribs from Y/N, but Garreth chuckled and shook his head.

“Actually, I was hoping Y/N would accompany me to the Forbidden Forest soon to gather some ingredients.”

“Not man enough to go it alone?” Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. The tips of Garreth’s ears were tinged pink as he looked between the three of them, before an easygoing smile fell across his features. 

“Is that why you keep asking her to join you on trips to spider caves?” Ominis let a laugh slip out at Garreth’s words, and Sebastian shot him a glare for it. Y/N shuffled nervously on her feet between them all, sensing some tension simmering under the surface. She wasn’t sure why they were both standing there, chests puffed out, and had a feeling she didn’t want to know. The only one who didn’t seem to be stancing was Ominis, who looked just as out of place as she felt. 

“I don’t mind going into the forest,” Y/N supplied quietly. Two pairs of eyes shot her way, and Ominis looked a little to her left. “I mean, I need to go anyway. Ms Bugbrooke asked me to go and check in on a unicorn she named Hazel and find a way to keep her safe.”

“I thought we were going to go do that this weekend?” Sebastian asked.

“You could all go,” Ominis supplied. He could feel Y/N relax from beside him, her hand reaching between their robes to squeeze his arm in gratitude. “Saves for multiple trips to the forest.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Sebastian frowned, crossing his arms. Garreth gave them all a half-hearted smile and shrugged.

“You let me know, Y/N. I’ve got to get to Charms, I can’t be late again or Ronen will tell my aunt,” he shuddered at the thought and waved goodbye to the three of them before turning to walk away. Y/N offered Garreth a forced smile as he left and waited until he was well out of earshot before whirling around to face Sebastian and hit him with her glove.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Sebastian. It doesn’t become you.”

“Sweetheart, everything becomes me,” he sent her a cocky grin, his body language loosening now that Garreth was gone. “Do you want me to walk you - both of you - to class?” He bent down to pick up her discarded bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Don’t change the subject,” she sighed in annoyance, her eyes narrowing. “You always seem to do this whenever I’m speaking to someone.”

“I don’t do it to Poppy, Natty, Imelda, or Ominis.”

“Please, leave me out of this,” Ominis muttered, looking away from them as they began to walk to the castle for class. Even though he knew he couldn’t see it, Sebastian still shot his friend a look as if to say way to back me up, help me out here and hoped he would get the message. The trio walked in silence until they passed the History of Magic classroom.

“Why don’t you let me talk to any of our classmates?”

“You’re talking to me, aren’t you? And you speak to Ominis all the time,” Sebastian gestured at his friend, who cringed internally at being brought back into this. He hoped if he kept silent that they would forget he was there, and perhaps he could sneak off and make it to class on his own. Not that it would do much good - he shared his next class with Y/N, and Sebastian was sure to follow. They had overheard a conversation between her, Imelda, Poppy and Natty about the chivalrous actions some of the wizards at the school took to get the attention of the witches and which ones in particular seemed to charm the girls the most. Ever since then Sebastian had held her school bag and walked her to every class. 

“Stop trying to be charming, Sebastian. I’m annoyed at you.”

“You think I’m charming?” Sebastian grinned down at her, earning a quiet whack as she hit him with her glove again. “Why are you so violent today?”

“Why are you so bothersome today?” she shot back. Ominis smiled to himself and walked a little faster. As much as he enjoyed hearing Y/N rip into Sebastian, he did not want to get caught in the middle. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight the chill that lingered in the stone walls after the warmth they had felt outside. Sebastian had been acting differently lately. Some days he was attentive, almost sweet; others like today, he was a nuisance, plain and simple. She never knew who she was going to get - the man who greeted her with coffee and a smile in the mornings, his hand lingering on hers after he handed her the mug, or the sulking mass walking by her. Her eyes fell on his back, watching as his muscles rippled through the white shirt, at her bag hanging on his shoulder.

He never aimed that gruffness in her direction, she realised. Even now, he was holding her bag for her and looked over his shoulder to see if she was still with them, a breathtaking smile falling on his face when he caught her eye. It was only ever when one of their male classmates spoke to her, standing a little too close that he began to act out, and despite his protests that she spoke to Ominis, she had seen him do it with him too. It was to a lesser scale, but even this morning he had placed himself between the pair as they all sat in the sun, his shoulder pressed against hers.

“Why won’t you let me speak to any men?” the words slipped out of her mouth before she could process them. Sebastian came to a stop and looked at her in confusion. She was vaguely aware of Ominis slowing as well from in front of them, a low groan escaping from him. 

“What?”

“That conversation you were having with Garreth wasn’t exactly pleasant, and it’s not the first time this has happened.” Sebastian watched as she twisted her fingers together nervously and longed to take her hand in his. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“You think Weasley is going to make you happy?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“I-I don’t know! But how am I meant to find out when you keep…”

“When I keep…?” His casual tone infuriated Y/N, and judging by the amusement in his eye and the twitch in the corner of his mouth, he knew it.

“When you keep acting so possessive!”

“Maybe I’m just a good judge of character and know none of those simpering idiots who keep coming over are enough for you.”

“Enough for me - ” Ire flared at his words and she gave him a withering look. “You have some nerve, Sebastian Sallow. And you,” she glared at Ominis, who had the decency to look a little frazzled at her anger. “I expected better from you, you’re always by his side whenever this happens. Care to explain yourself?” Ominis shook his head slowly and backed away a few steps as Sebatian came forward.

“Don’t take it out on him, he had no part in this.”

“Good to know the stupidity started and ended with you, then,” Y/N snapped. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps away to calm down. “Why do you always do this to me, Sebastian? Give me one good reason why you keep acting out like this.”

“I’m only looking out for your best interests. You need someone who will challenge you,” Sebastian stood taller, annoyance flashing in his eyes. “Not a lapdog who will roll over every time you call their name. You need an equal.” Ominis grimaced at his best friend's words and slowly began to back away. He didn’t make it too far before someone bumped into him, pausing to listen to the argument occurring in the hallway.

“Who are you to presume anything about my happiness?” Y/N stalked forward to poke Sebastian in the chest roughly. “Who would even fit within your insane standards for me? Who would challenge me, make me happy, treat me as their equal?” she asked, all but spitting the words at him. “You?”

“Maybe.” Sebastian shrugged, not quite meeting her eye as he shuffled between his feet nervously.

“You…” Y/N let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re something else, Sallow.” In all the times Y/N had imagined Sebastian admitting he may return his feelings for her it never went like this, in a corridor attracting the attention of their classmates with their fight. “I have done nothing but wait for you to notice me for two years, Sebastian. And when I finally realise you’ll never see me the way I want and decide to move on, that’s when you’re determined to want me?”

“I don’t just want you,” his voice was hoarse with her declaration. Two years? How could she not see that I’ve noticed her, that I've only ever noticed her? How could this have gone wrong so fast. 

“You’re nothing but a jealous coward.” With one final poke to the chest, Y/N took her bag and started to walk away from him and the little crowd that had gathered.

“You think I don’t know how selfish I’m being?” Sebastian called out, suddenly finding his voice. He followed her path, near enough pushing anyone aside who stood in his way. “I would give anything - anything - to go back to that day we first met. Back when all you were was Atë personified, before I realised how absolutely breathtaking every inch of your soul is. You’ve ruined me, Y/N!”

“And that’s my fault?”

“I’m not saying that!” Sebastian groaned and reached for the sleeve of her robe to pull her to a stop. He quickly rescinded his hand when she shot him a menacing glare as if to say I dare you.

“Then what are you saying?” she asked. Doubt clutched him, stopping the words from leaving his mouth. He must have waited a beat too long to respond because Y/N sighed, and the disappointment on her face was enough to bring him to his knees as she continued to walk away from him, the students they had attracted parting to let her through. She had made it halfway down the corridor when sharp panic squeezed his chest tightly.

“I’m in love with you!” he shouted after her. His face flamed at the confession, at the sudden whispers of those around him as his words echoed down the stone corridor. Y/N stopped, and for a second Sebastian felt hope that she would turn around and say she loved him too. That it was him she wanted, who she always wanted.

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.” He watched in despair as she walked away from him, slipping through the doors that would take her into another hall. There was a dull roaring in his ears, drowning out the sudden whispers that had started around him. A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he looked over slowly to see Ominis, a grim look on his face. Sebastian couldn’t bear to see the sympathy in his gaze, to hear the voices around him talking about his rejected confession. 

“All right, show’s over!” he growled, shaking Ominis’ hand from his shoulder. “Everyone clear off.” He rolled his shoulders and stood a little straighter before stalking down the corridor. The younger students jumped out of his way, and he caught the looks of pity from those in his year. Poppy tried to step forward and speak to him, but he just shook his head at her and walked out of the hall and made his way to the Undercroft. 

*~*~*~*~*

It had been nearly a week since Y/N and Sebastian’s argument in the middle of the hallway and she could still hear people whisper about it as she walked by, as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying. A group of Ravenclaws were sitting at a table in the library near Y/N, Poppy and Imelda, and every-so-often they looked over and started to giggle. 

“Just ignore them,” Poppy murmured to her.

“No,” Imelda glared at the group, who immediately quieted down and looked away. “They need to learn to keep their mouths shut, or I’ll do it for them.” She raised her voice just enough for them to hear her threat and they quickly packed their things and left in a flurry of navy robes. 

“You can’t threaten everyone in the school, Imelda,” Y/N said with a sigh, not looking up from her Charms textbook. Another group would soon come and replace that one, and the cycle would just repeat itself. 

“Watch me.” Her grin was unnerving to say the least. “What’s he doing in here?” Y/N looked up to see Sebastian walking up the stairs into the upper part of the library where they were currently sitting. He looked around, a little unsure of himself and Y/N’s heart clenched in her chest at the sight. He always looked so confident, even when he was utterly terrified, but now he just looked lost. “He better not come over here.”

“Imelda,” Poppy sighed and shook her head. “We don’t even know if he’s here for Y/N, he could be here to study.” Even though Poppy was right, Y/N couldn’t help but wish that he was here for her, that he wanted to speak to her.

“No you don’t, wipe that look off your face,” Imelda pointed her quill at Y/N. “Don’t go mooning over him after what he’s put you through. You don’t need someone who’s going to treat you that poorly.”

“He doesn’t exactly look great himself.”

“Who’s side are you on, Sweeting?”

“I didn’t realise there were any.” Y/N rolled her eyes as the pair continued to bicker, her gaze turning back to Sebastian, who had turned in their direction as he heard Poppy and Imelda arguing. He caught her eye and began to slowly make his way to their table, casting a weary glance at Imelda as he neared.

“What do you want, Sallow?” Imelda snapped at him, turning on him as he got closer.

“Hello, Sebastian, are you alright?” Poppy nudged her in reprimand and offered him an awkward smile.

“I-I’d like to speak to Y/N, if that’s okay,” he asked, not quite looking at any of them. 

“Come to shout more declarations of love in my face?” It was a low blow, and Y/N knew it. She watched as he flinched slightly and looked away from her, his shoulders slumped in defeat. She was vaguely aware of Poppy grabbing onto Imelda’s robes to pull her away while the latter protested as she stared at him. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, and his shirt and robes were rumpled. “Sit down,” she muttered, closing her book. “You look like you’re about to pass out from exhaustion.” 

Sebastian listened, his hands running through his hair as he slumped down into a seat. He looked awful, Y/N noted, eyes wandering over his frame. It went beyond the creased clothes and the lack of sleep. He looked paler, and Y/N watched as he sighed heavily and rubbed a hand down his face. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I went too far.” There was a different level of weariness in his voice, it went down to his bones, his very soul. The man in front of her was not the one she had fallen for. Her heart ached as he looked up at her slowly with dull eyes. “I always go too far.”

“You do,” she murmured. His eyes slid shut at her words and he braced himself for a blow that wasn’t coming. “And yet, somehow, I always forgive you for it.” She hated admitting it out loud, but once her rage had simmered and the adrenaline had left her a few hours after their fight, she had forgiven him. She could never stay mad at him for long. Even after their only other argument that had happened in the Undercroft years ago when he had called her ignorant for trusting a goblin and stormed out she hadn’t been hurt or angry, just concerned for him.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” She waited until he looked at her before giving him a small, teasing smile. They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, each drinking in the different ways the other had changed in the past few days until Y/N sighed and looked away again. “I’m not an object to be possessed, Sebastian. You can’t just stake your claim on me.”

“I never…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this. I just…” he sighed and tried to sit a little straighter in his seat. Y/N waited patiently for him to finish his sentence, waited as the wheels turned in his head and he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, his heart constricting in his chest and he saw the matching dark rings under her eyes. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Sebastian,” Y/N said gently, reaching his hand. She stopped before she could touch it and instead started to fiddle with the quill Poppy had left behind. “You can say what you need to.”

“It’s not pleasant.”

“None of this has been.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he smiled without humour and finally looked her in the eye. “Ominis and I once heard a conversation in the bathroom. I don’t think they realised we were in there, and they were gone before we could confront them. They were talking about you. About how they wanted to spend time with you and ask you to accompany them - alone, might I add - to the Three Broomsticks so that they could be seen with the Hero of Hogwarts.” Sebastian all but spat the nickname out, hating it in that moment. “They all left before I could see who they were. Ever since then I’ve stood between you and anyone who looked like they were trying to express interest because I didn’t know who was genuine and who was just using you.”

“Garreth…” Sebastian hated himself for being the one to break the news, for putting that heartbroken expression on her face. Y/N felt her stomach churn in revulsion and grief. She wasn’t stupid, she knew there were people in the school who only wanted to be seen with her because of what she was as opposed to who she was. She knew some of the requests she politely turned down for company and a drink in Hogsmeade weren’t out of attraction, but rather a ploy to get into her graces. She never suspected Garreth would be one of them. She was hurt - not because she had feelings for him, but because she had thought they were friends. 

“No, I made a mistake with him.” He pulled a face as he admitted he was wrong. “It turns out he actually wants to get to know you - the real you.” Oh. Oh. Y/N felt her face flush and Sebastian looked away. He couldn’t bear to watch her blush over Garreth Weasley, or anyone, for that matter. 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Your delivery was less than ideal but…did you mean it? Do you mean it?” she asked nervously, her voice no more than a whisper. Sebastian hated the look on her face, hated seeing her so unsure of herself.  

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since our fifth year.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he held a hand out for hers, letting her make the decision if she wanted to take it or not. A few seconds passed, and he was just about to rescind the offer, when she shyly placed her hand in his. He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing her knuckles as he tried not to think about how perfectly her hand fit in his. “It means that I want you to be happy,” he murmured, “and if Weasley makes you happy - or anyone else who wishes to genuinely court you - I’ll take a step back.”

It hurt him to say the words out loud, to voice the possibility that after all this she wouldn’t want him anymore. Not the way she had once, the way he currently still wanted her. He let her collect her thoughts, watched as she chewed on her lower lip. 

“What if…what if I don’t want you to?” Y/N asked, voice so quiet he almost missed it. 

Sebastian’s heart stuttered at the blush that rose to her cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to be the only one that made her blush like that ever again. For the rest of their lives. The thought startled him slightly, but he realised it was true. He wasn’t saying he wanted to marry her (although, a rather enticing image of Y/N floating down the aisle to him in a white dress did flash to mind), but he wanted to stay by her side. Whether that was in a friendly capacity or more. Merlin, did he hope it was more. 

“I meant what I said too, about waiting for you to notice me,” she continued. 

“Darling, I’ve not noticed anyone else since the day I met you.” He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand again and squeezed it gently before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. He watched in satisfaction as her blush deepened, and tried to read the flicker of emotions that passed across her face. “I’m more than aware my confession was…something, to say the least (Y/N rolled her eyes at this) but I meant what I said. I’m in love with you, Y/N Y/L/N. I have been for a while now.” She looked away, unable to handle the deep emotions swirling in his eyes, that are written clearly on his face for anyone to see. She didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling the truth. “I don’t expect you to say it back.”

“I…I’m not good with all of this. I can’t quite say if it’s love but…” Her face burns, and she feels as if it will be a permanent shade of red after this conversation. “I am entranced by you, Sebastian Sallow. I’ve never been in love before, never felt it in anything more than a friendly capacity, but with you…it’s different. It runs far deeper than I can explain.” She presses a hand to her chest, right above her heart that is beating so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. “I can’t picture my life without you in it, whether that is as a friend or more.”

Y/N doesn’t know how else to put it into words. She can’t seem to say that it’s been him from the very beginning. From the moment she beat him in their first duel and he was thrilled instead of being put out she knew she was in trouble. She’d only fallen faster and harder since then, from their first trip to Hogsmeade where he flirted with her the whole way, until the day his uncle had died and she had talked Ominis out of sending him to Azkaban. 

“You don’t need to say it back,” Sebastian repeated, his grip on her hand tightening as he took note of the adoration in her eyes. “I mean, how could you not be in love with me?” Y/N laughed loudly before clapping her hand over her mouth suddenly. They waited with baited breath for Scribner to come and reprimand them, only relaxing when they couldn’t hear her making her way up the stairs. 

“You have to apologise to Garreth.” Sebastian groaned at her words, but there was a smile on his face that he couldn’t quite hide from her. Already he looked better. He still needed a good night’s sleep, in Y/N’s opinion, but life was returning to his eyes and he sat a little straighter, a little taller. 

“Where does this leave us?” he asked, shuffling his chair closer to hers so their knees could press together under the table. He hooked one foot under her ankle and tangled their legs together, enjoying the look on her face as he did so. 

“I’m still mad at you. But knowing you did this to be noble…to protect me. That lessens the blow.” She gently squeezed his leg between hers, grinning to herself as she watched him take his turn to blush. “I do hope you know I don’t need protection though.”

“My still-healing ego from our first Defence Against the Dark Arts class together remembers.” 

He’s rewarded with her laugh again, her real one, and he makes a silent promise to make her laugh the same way every day for the rest of their lives. Every muscle in his body loosens at the sound, and he feels like he can finally breathe again when she grins at him and tugs him a little closer by his tie.

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again…” Although there was still a smile on her face, the threat was evident in her eyes. He nodded quickly, throat bobbing as she twirled his tie between her fingers and let go. She watches as he looks down at her lips nervously and gratification shot her through as his face slowly flushed. A smirk falls on her face at this, and she raises an eyebrow at him when he finally looks up to meet her gaze. “Feeling a little warm?”

“What, no.” He leans back and rubs the back of his neck, his blush deepening.

“Ah, so you’re just blushing like a third year at the thought of kissing me.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“So you want to kiss me?”

“Darling, I always want to kiss you.” The look he gives her makes her stomach flip.  “Can I…”

“Not until you ask me properly.”

“To kiss you?”

“Sebastian.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” he grins, loving the way she rolls her eyes at him. “Will you do me the honour of joining me on a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Sebastian, it’s nearly curfew.”

“And when has that stopped you before?” he laughs and begins to gather her things into her bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He holds a hand out to her expectantly and waits until she grabs a hold of it before they leave the library, waving goodbye at Imelda and Poppy (who are doing their very best - and failing - to eavesdrop). They make it as far as the doors that lead to the greenhouses when Sebastian pulls her under the stairs, ensuring no one can see them as they dip into one of the shadows. She meets him halfway, pressing their lips together in a long overdue kiss. 

“Do you have any final demands for this? For us?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Only one.” Her fingers run through his hair and his heart stutters in his chest. “I’m never going to make this easy for you. I'm going to challenge you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Blood Sugar

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: You have a hypo during a match

Your sugar levels were fine at the start of the match.

You'd checked them before you went out. They were fine and it's not like your diabetes were a new thing. You knew how to control them.

"Looking good?" Alessia asks as you press your monitor against the patch attached to your arm.

It takes a few seconds for it to flash up but you nod.

"Good."

She grins, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Excellent. Can't have one of our midfielders out of it. Who else will feed me balls?"

You roll your eyes. "Don't act like I'm the only one doing my job."

Lessi pinches your cheek. "But you're my favourite! Look at you! All cute and tiny!"

"Leave me alone!"

You try to shove her away but she just holds onto you firmer.

You'd known Alessia for years. You used to live next door to each other before she went to college in America and she'd been obsessed with you ever since you got placed into her arms as a baby.

She'd been overjoyed to see you on the team sheet for the Euro's and then now for the Finalissima. It helped, of course, that you and Alessia had racked up the most assist to goal pairings on the entire team.

"Leave her alone, Less," Leah says with an eye roll," We need her in tip-top shape, not looking like a tomato."

Alessia huffs as you put away your glucose monitor and dart around her, taking refuge with Keira and Lucy. You stick your tongue out at her as you pass.

You feel good during the first half, feeding the ball to Tooney, who scores. You feel good during halftime too, though you forget to check your glucose monitor.

You'd had it in your hand ready and waiting but Mary had caught you in conversation for the entirety of the break and it had completely slipped your mind.

Things took a turn for the worst about halfway through the second half. Your arms suddenly felt too heavy for your body and your mouth had gotten very dry, very quickly.

You sway on your feet and just manage to get the ball out from under your feet and to Keira to run up to Brazil's half. You stumble a little bit.

You're sweating now too, badly. You're sweating too much even for someone who has been on the pitch for nearly ninety minutes. You can feel your legs shaking too and you have to back up to keep your footing.

"Hey, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

The thick scouse accent from behind you means you've bumped into Alex and you practically go limp against her. She notices that too and immediately makes sure you stay upright.

Your head flops back like your neck can no longer support it. It's probably for the best because your vision has gone blurry and your head is swimming.

It takes all your concentration to move your lips in some semblance of words even though it comes out all garbled and slurred.

"'m goin' to pass out soon," You manage to say," Low sugar, I thin'." You draw in a ragged breath. "Meds have got...got..."

"Hey!" Alex shakes you. "The medics have got a...?"

"Gotta gluca...a gluca-"

You don't get to finish your sentence because you got fully limp now. Alex lays you on the ground, gesturing wildly to the medics and to the ref and to everyone who will see.

Leah's the first person to come skidding in, her hand immediately going to your pulse.

"What happened?!"

"I dont know!" Alex replies," She suddenly went all funny. She's sweating buckets! Er..." She shakes her head as she tries to clear her thoughts. "She said something about the medics having a...a gluca-something? I don't know. She passed out before she could finish."

"A glucagon injection," Alessia says as she comes running in as well," Fuck, her sugar levels must have tanked."

"She's right," The first medic says, shoving a glucose monitor onto your sensor," These are low. It's a wonder she didn't pass out earlier."

No one's really listening to him, least of all Alessia, who's rummaging through the first aid kit in search of something. Another medic is waving for a stretcher and a third one is pulling up the bottom of your shorts and cleaning off the top of your thigh with a cotton swab doused in alcohol.

"And she didn't hit her head?" The fourth medic is asking Alex, who shakes her head.

"No. She stumbled a bit but I caught her. She didn't hit anything. Just passed straight out in my arms."

Leah doesn't really know what else to do but stare. The whole team has joined them, forming a huddle around your unconscious body to block the cameras from seeing.

It's a pretty severe thing happening because the officials have even let Sarina on the pitch and she has joined the huddle with the rest of the staff to keep your privacy.

When Leah manages to tear her gaze from you, it lands on Alessia. She's at your other side, ripping open a small plastic box in a hurry. She uncaps a small glass bottle of powder and stabs a syringe into it, pushing all of the liquid into it.

She shakes the bottle a few times before turning it upside down and drawing it all back into the syringe.

"You need to roll her over once it's in," She says and Leah and a few of the medics immediately grab parts of you to pull on.

"Alessia," The first medic says," Do you need me to do this?"

"I've done it before!" Alessia snaps," As soon as I take the needle out, roll her in case she throws up. Okay? One. Two. Three!"

The needle finds a home in the top of your thigh, the area that had been disinfected. Alessia jabs the needle in and pushes down. As soon as she takes it out, Leah tugs on your shoulder to get you on your side.

"I need to come off," Alessia says to Sarina as you're carefully loaded onto a stretcher," I have to be with her. She'll be disorientated when she wakes up."

"Go," Sarina says," Be with her."

The match ends in a penalty shootout but everyone seems to be in the same mind because the medal ceremony is delayed until after you've been checked.

You're looking a lot better when Leah and the others burst into the physio's room. You're sitting upright with Alessia by your side, forcing a sugary drink down your throat.

It's clear that this has been going on for a while because there's another empty can of your favourite nearby and a packet of haribos in your hand.

"You scared us," Leah says.

"Did we win?"

"No talking!" Alessia snaps," Drink! All of it!"

You flash an amused smile at Leah but do as you're told.

"We won," Mary confirms," Penalty shootout but we did it. Could have done without the scare though."

"Sorry," You say with a wince," If it helps, I didn't plan it."

"Thank god for that," Alex mutters," Because that wasn't fun, kid. I thought you were dying."

"Just a bad hypo," You say and Lessi swats you.

"Stop making fun of dangerous situations," She scolds," I don't like having to give you injections so often."

You roll your eyes. "You've done it twice in my entire life!"

"Three times now! You're going to give me a heart attack one day."

"Well, can you have that heart attack later? We've got medals to collect."

[rainandandy]

Hiii, could you do a rain carradine x reader fic where they both survived the events of romulus and are safely brought to yvaga but yn is badly injured so she was in a coma and rain had to wait for her to wake up?

Warnings: Grief, Coma description, mentions of blood,

Word Count: 1883

Pairings: Rain Carradine x Fem!Reader

The cryopod’s hiss was the first sound that Rain heard as her consciousness slowly returned. Her limbs felt stiff, her mind foggy from the long sleep. As her senses sharpened, panic knotted her stomach— she remembered the dire circumstances they had left behind. The urgency to check on you and Andy propelled her from the pod. Rain’s heart pounded as she rushed to your side, her boots clanging against the metal floor of the Corbelan.

You were still unconscious, the dried blood on your forehead a stark contrast to your pale skin. Rain’s hands trembled as she traced the line of your jaw, whispering your name softly, her voice a fragile thread in the quiet of the medical bay. "Please, wake up," she murmured, each word laden with desperation. But you remained motionless, the steady beep of the heart monitors the only response in the sterile room.

After ensuring you were as comfortable as possible Rain then turned her attention to Andy, who was beginning to stir in his own cryopod. She quickly moved to his side, her movements practiced and efficient as she initiated the sequence to reset his chip. The familiar whir of circuits reactivating filled the air, a sound that brought a small measure of relief to Rain.

Andy’s optical sensors flickered to life, and he immediately fixated on Rain. "Is she okay?" he asked, his voice carrying an electronic tinge of concern.

Rain shook her head, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. "No, not yet, Andy. She’s still not awake." Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her fear.

Andy sat up, scanning the medical equipment readings with rapid precision. "Systems analysis suggests significant trauma. Probability of recovery uncertain without further medical assessment," he reported, though his words were careful, calculated to avoid causing Rain more distress.

Rain nodded, absorbing his words with a heavy heart. "Just stay with me, Andy. Help me land us safely”

As Rain steered the Corbelan ship toward Yvaga, her focus was laser-sharp, every adjustment to the controls calculated and precise despite the emotional storm raging within her. The verdant hues of Yvaga loomed larger and brighter through the viewport, a stark contrast to the bleakness that had preceded this moment.

"We're almost there," Rain said softly, more to herself than to Andy, who was monitoring the ship's systems next to her.

Andy, always sensitive to her mood, replied, "It'll be okay, Rain. You've gotten us this far."

"I just need to know she'll be alright," Rain whispered, her voice carrying a weight that the vastness of space around them seemed to absorb.

As soon as the ship touched down on Yvaga's surface, Rain was a blur of motion, barely waiting for the landing sequence to complete before she was unbuckling and rushing toward the hatch. The ramp hadn’t fully deployed when she started shouting for help.

"Medical team! I need a medical team here now!" Her voice, usually so composed, cracked with urgency.

When the medical team finally burst through the ship's doors, their uniforms a blur of efficiency and urgency, Rain stepped back, allowing them to take charge. She watched with a mixture of fear and determination as they assessed your condition, their expressions giving away little as they worked swiftly and silently.

"Heart rate stable, but unresponsive," one of the doctors murmured, their voice a backdrop to the whirring of machines and the soft beeps of monitors. Another voice chimed in with medical jargon that Rain strained to understand, her gaze flickering between you and the medical staff.

"Will she be okay?" Rain finally managed to choke out the question that had been gnawing at her since they left Jackson's Star. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the doctors seemed to hear her nonetheless.

"We're doing everything we can," one of them replied gently, their eyes meeting Rain's with a mixture of sympathy and professionalism. "She's stable for now. We'll keep you updated."

Relocated to the stark, white room of Yvaga customs, Rain's heart continued to pound, now out of sync with the buzzing fluorescents overhead. Officials moved her from station to station, conducting thorough scans and taking samples, ensuring she carried no pathogens that could threaten their pristine colony. Despite their politeness, their masked faces remained impassive, heightening Rain's sense of isolation and worry.

"And what about the synthetic?" one official inquired, glancing over a digital clipboard as he scrutinized Andy, who stood beside Rain, his usual stoic self.

"He's my brother," Rain asserted, her voice firm despite the undercurrent of fear that he might be taken from her. "I know your laws about synthetics..."

The officer looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow, then relaxed. "Miss, that regulation has been repealed years ago. Your... brother is welcome to stay as long as he abides by our rules, just like any other resident."

Relief washed over Rain, brief but profound, and she squeezed Andy's hand, smiling at him. "Did you hear that? You’re staying." Her voice wavered with emotion, a stark contrast to her usual composure.

Andy nodded, a flicker of what might have been relief passing through his eyes. "I am pleased to remain by your side, Rain."

But as the customs official handed her back her documents, including a new ID card for her life on Yvaga, Rain's thoughts were already racing back to you, lying in the medical bay, your condition unknown. "Thank you," she muttered distractedly, barely hearing the officer’s instructions on local guidelines and curfew times.

With every step towards the medical facility, her pace quickened, driven by a mix of dread and urgency. Upon arrival, she was met by a cool blast of air and the antiseptic smell of the hospital that did nothing to ease her nerves.

"I’m here to see my girlfriend," she told the receptionist, her voice steady but her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

The receptionist typed something into a computer, then looked up with a neutral expression. "You may go in, but please prepare yourself. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet."

Rain’s breath hitched, her feet carrying her down the fluorescent-lit hallway to the room where you lay. The door swung open quietly, and there you were, just as she’d left you, surrounded by beeping machines and IV lines, your breathing steady but unnatural.

She pulled up a chair beside your bed, her hand finding yours, cold and still. "Hey, it’s me," she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I need you to wake up, okay? Andy’s safe. We’re both here... waiting for you."

Hours turned into days, with Rain talking to you about everything and nothing—her hopes for their new life on Yvaga, the garden she imagined they might cultivate, the quiet evenings they could spend watching Yvaga’s twin suns set. Occasionally, she'd be silent, just watching your chest rise and fall, each breath a small reassurance that you were still with her.

One particularly quiet night, Rain leaned close, her whisper barely audible. "You have to come back to me," she said, her tone a mix of plea and command. "Remember all those plans we made? I can’t do this without you. I can’t lose anyone else."

She stayed there, her head resting beside your hand on the bed, her tears not quite spilling over but close. The weight of everything they’d been through, everything they’d lost and hoped to gain, pressed down on her.

"Please," she murmured as she felt the first tear escape, tracing a warm path down her cold cheek. "I need you. We’re supposed to start over here. Together."

The sterile hum of the medical bay was punctuated by the quiet beep of machines, a constant backdrop to Rain's vigil by your side. It was during one of these long nights, her head resting close to yours, her whispered stories floating through the dimly lit room, that a change occurred. A subtle shift in the rhythm of your breathing, a small furrow in your brow—signs of emerging consciousness that Rain almost didn't dare to hope for.

After what felt like an eternity immersed in silence and darkness, you finally sensed the veil of unconsciousness lifting. Your eyelids fluttered open, meeting the stark brightness of the medical bay on Yvaga. Disoriented, you turned your head slightly, finding Rain's face close to yours, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and relief.

Your eyelids fluttered, a slow, uncertain movement, and then opened. Rain, who had been lost in her thoughts, looked up sharply, her heart skipping a beat. "Baby?" she said softly, her voice a mix of hope and disbelief.

You blinked slowly, disoriented, the shapes and shadows of the room coalescing into forms you recognized but couldn't quite place. "Rain?" Your voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, and you struggled to sit up, confusion written across your face.

"It's okay, take it slow," Rain soothed, her hands gentle on your shoulders, helping you adjust. "You're safe now. We're on Yvaga."

The name didn't mean much to you yet, not with your mind still grappling with the fog of long sleep and recovery. You looked around, trying to piece together the last fragments of memory—flashes of danger, of fear, of desperate actions. "What happened? The others—Kay, Tyler, Bjorn, Navarro... what happened to them?"

Rain's face fell, her eyes dimming with a grief she had held at bay. Taking a deep breath, she reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. "There was an incident on the ship... there were these creatures" Her voice trembled, and she paused, gathering the strength to continue. "I managed to get you and Andy into cryopods. I... I dealt with it, but..." She swallowed hard, her other hand wiping away silent tears that began to stream down her face.

"The others weren't so lucky," she finished softly, the weight of the loss pressing down on her anew.

Your heart ached, both from your own physical weakness and the pain of the news. You remembered now—the fear, the chaos, the desperate rush to escape. And through it all, Rain, always protecting, always fighting. "You saved us," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow for the lost and gratitude for the safety of those who remained.

Rain nodded, more tears falling as she tried to smile through them. "I did what I had to do. I couldn’t let anything happen to you or Andy." She took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "We're going to start over here, on Yvaga. Make it count, for them."

As you processed her words, the reality of your new beginning on this strange new world without some of your closest friends, you felt a profound sense of loss but also a deep, resolute determination. Rain was here, Andy was safe, and you were still together. In that, at least, there was some comfort.

"I'm glad you're here," you told her, squeezing her hand in return. "We'll make it count."

Rain nodded, a solemn promise shared between you two. As she settled back into the chair beside your bed, her vigilance unwavering, you knew that whatever challenges Yvaga might hold, you would face them together.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun

pairing: storm chaser!joel miller x storm chaser!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary:

Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings.

A Twister (1996) AU

author’s note: are you someone, like me, who was fucking obsessed with the movie twister and at one point made it your entire personality (maybe even at too young of an age)? then this fic is for you! this may be one of my favorite fics ever and i hope you enjoy it, too. please consider reblogging or commenting or even dropping into my ask box if you like the fic, i would love to hear from you!

amazing title art by @atinylittlepain

tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors do not interact), explicit language, undefined age gap, able bodied reader (actions include running, lifting, climbing), no reader physical characteristic descriptions, dual pov, established relationship, estranged marriage, mentions of divorce, alternate universe - movie: twister (1996), not a direct rewrite of the movie but pretty close, storm chaser!joel, storm chaser!reader, natural disaster action scenes, mild angst, mention of reader’s parent’s deaths, praise, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cum eating, minor character death.

masterlists: all characters | joel miller

support for palestine

The first person to notice Joel’s truck pulling up to the makeshift weather station site is his brother, Tommy.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” He says, hands on his hips. Joel gets out of his truck and Tommy envelops him in a strong hug. “Had no idea you were comin’ out here.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” Joel admits. He waves the envelope in his hand. “But I can’t get her to sign ‘em unless I track her down myself.”

The expression on Tommy’s face drops and he nods, clearing his throat. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Probably hiding from you,” another voice chimes. Tommy’s wife, Maria, jumps from the back of a nearby pick up truck where she had been fixing a satellite. “Welcome back, Joel.”

“I ain’t back,” he grumbles, giving her a quick hug. “How’re you, Maria?”

“Sweaty,” she replies. “Heard you got yourself a nice channel gig. Must explain the suit.”

Joel looks down at his outfit of tan slacks and a matching suit jacket over a white button up shirt. He tries to think of a response, but another familiar voice calls out his name.

“The prodigal son returns!” Tess shouts. Her short hair has grown out since the last time he’s seen her, but the ever present camera around her neck remains the same. 

He notices movement from the back of one of the vans. You emerge, wiping your hands on a grease stained rag and for a brief moment, a bolt of longing courses through him like a lightning strike. 

“Joel,” you say, a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you out here.”

“You won’t answer any of my calls,” he replies. A tense silence falls over the group until Maria nudges Tommy in the ribs and drags him off while Tess mumbles an excuse about checking the radio and escapes in the other direction. “Have you looked at the papers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t signed them?”

“Been a bit busy,” you say, gesturing to the camp. “I got something you’ll want to see.”

You brush past him and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation before turning to follow you to one of the trucks. You pull yourself up into the bed and stand beside a large metal container.

“She’s here, Joel,” you say proudly, hitting one of the buttons. The lid on the unit pops open. “ELLIE.”

“No shit?” Joel asks, climbing onto the truck for a closer look. He picks up one of the spherical sensors, holding it up for inspection. “I’ll be damned. You really did it.”

“We did it,” you respond quietly. The expression on your face is painfully familiar, that combination of pride and sadness that he’s grown accustomed to in the last few years. He murmurs your name, tries to think of something else to say, but a shout interrupts his efforts.

“We’ve got action!” Tess yells. 

The camp explodes into a flurry of movement. Equipment is packed away with speed and efficiency while anything else that isn’t fragile is tossed into the nearest truck or van. Joel watches it all and remembers when he used to be part of this machine, calling out orders and getting on the radio for coordinates as he hit the gas and peeled out in a cloud of dirt and dust.

He’s so caught up in it all that he almost forgets why he was here, and when he remembers you still haven’t signed the papers he curses, running for his truck and taking off after you down the rural roads.

“You comin’ with, brother?” Tommy’s voice crackles over his truck radio. 

“She didn’t sign!” Joel says back. 

“Keep lying to yourself, Joel!” Maria calls back. 

It’s a race against time and God, the storm clouds overhead dark and churning ominously. The air is filled with static, lightning striking in the distance. Joel can feel it all in his veins, the adrenaline thick as he keeps speed with the rest of his former crew. The honk of a horn draws his eyes to the rearview mirror, where a gleaming black Surburban is gaining speed on him.

“Son of a bitch,” he snaps. He grabs the radio. “We got company!”

The Surbuban pulls up beside him, a woman in the passenger seat that refuses to look his way. Marlene, once a lab mate of yours and Joel’s in the early days of your career, is now the face of FEDRA’s corporate sponsorship. Sold out for shiny toys, Joel once said. 

“What’s Marlene doin’ here?” Joel asks. 

“Bet she’s wondering the same thing about you!” You chime in.

The convoy of uniformed vehicles speeds past him, the old trucks his crew still uses no match for them. In his distraction, he narrowly misses a fallen tree limb, careening off the dirt road with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouts. His tire has gone flat.

This is the last thing he needs.

You watch Joel through the window of the little diner you’ve all made a stop at once the storm broke up on the radar as you had been driving to catch it. He’s across the street at the mechanic to get a new tire, having driven in on the spare that Tommy circled back to help him put on. You twist the plain gold band on your finger, lost in thought.

“Hey,” Tess says, sliding onto the stool beside you. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” you reply quickly. Her keen gaze makes you fold. “Weird. It feels weird.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s in a suit.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“He looks good.”

“Sure, if you like ‘em with a stick up their—“

“What’s channel four doing here?” You ask, cutting her insult off. The news crew is unloading their gear from their van as the anchor speaks to Marlene, who’s gesturing to a piece of equipment that looks suspiciously similar to the culmination of your life’s work sitting in the bed of your truck. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you snap, racing for the door. 

“This is ABBY, the first unit of its kind. It’s built to give us a look inside of the funnel, allowing more precise storm prediction that could mean a world of difference for preparation and survival,” Marlene says proudly. “Inside are hundreds of sensors that, once deployed, will spiral inside of the tornado and report back real-time, accurate measurements.”

“Hey!” Joel barks, coming up to the scene from the opposite direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Cut!” The anchor yells as Joel crowds in close to Marlene.

“You really think you can get away with rippin’ off our idea?” Joel snaps. 

“I only took your idea and made it a reality,” Marlene responds, holding her hands up placatingly. “Face it, Joel. Your team doesn’t have the same resources to get this idea off the ground. Literally.” She laughs. “Besides, what are you doing here? I thought you retired.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. ELLIE isn’t just a dream anymore. We’ve got her here.”

Marlene’s smile falters. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Joel says. “And she’s going to be the first in the air.”

“We’ll see about that, Joel.” She steps back, addressing her crew. “Pack it up. Let’s hit the road.”

You stand there together watching as they pull out of the parking lot and back onto the two lane highway. When they’ve disappeared from sight, you give Joel’s shoulder a tentative pat. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you tell him. “Hopefully you’re right.”

The look he gives you is serious, a furrow between his brow that you used to smooth with your thumb, back before things fell apart. You smile at the memory. The tension eases from his shoulders and his lips curl up the slightest bit, as if in response. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tommy says, breaking your attention from his brother. “But we got another development on the radar.”

“Alright, let’s get her,” you reply, breaking away from them to get to your truck. Joel is still standing there when you chance a look over your shoulder. “You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”

“You still haven’t signed the papers!” He shouts back.

“I can sign them in the truck!”

He curses but jogs after you, coming up behind you and beating you to the driver’s door. “I’m drivin’,” he says.

“No,” you argue. “This is my truck.”

“You think I forgot how to drive this thing?”

“I think you’re out of practice!”

“You’re wastin’ time, just get in the fuckin’ truck,” he snaps. You roll your eyes and do as he says.

Some things never really change.

“You have to get ahead of it!” You shout. Hail pelts the roof of the truck and bounces off the windshield as Joel drives down the dirt road. Wind whips through the trees and lightning flashes in the fields while the clouds churn and peak at threatening speed.

“I know!” He shouts back, both hands tight on the wheel. “I can’t fuckin’ see anythin’!”

“Just cut across the field!”

“I can get us further ahead on the road!”

“We’re going to get stuck alongside it!”

“Do you want to drive?!” 

“I’d love to!”

Joel huffs, accelerating faster. The clouds gather more tightly, stretching from the sky towards the earth. He glances out of his window and catches a glimpse of the storm, his heart pounding as he watches the funnel organize. He watches it for a moment before slamming on the breaks, the truck fishtailing as it comes to a screeching halt.

“What are you doing?!”

Marlene’s team speeds by with angry honks of their horns, but Joel’s attention remains fixed on the tornado. “It’s goin’ to shift its path.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, squinting. 

“Look at it, it’s a sidewinder. It’s headin’ left,” he confirms. He throws the truck in reverse, speeding back towards the road they passed. The rest of the team has caught up and follows them down the one lane road. 

“There it goes!” You shout, smacking the dashboard in your excitement. You grab the radio. “Alright, tell us what you’ve got, Maria.”

“F2, shifting south. Repeat, shifting south. This thing is unstable,” she says, voice crackling over the speaker. “You guys have a shot but you’re going to be cutting it real close.”

You look at Joel, and he sees that spark in your eyes, the determination he’s always admired, even loved, and he knows he can’t say no. Not to you.

“Let’s get it.”

“We’re running out of time,” you tell him, binoculars held up to your eyes. “We’re not going to make it.” 

“We will,” he insists. Joel brakes after another half of a mile and you’re out of the cab before the truck even comes to a complete stop. 

The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through your clothes and wrapping you in an icy chill. You’re removing the tethers that hold ELLIE securely to the truck bed and turning the unit on when Joel joins you.

“We have to get it on the ground!” You shout, barely audible over the wind. One of the tethers is stuck, strap not coming loose from the buckle no matter how hard you pull. Joel jumps into the bed and tries to help but with the rain and wind, both of your hands keep slipping.

Joel looks up, eyes going wide. His hand wraps around your bicep, pulling. “We have to get out of here!”

“But ELLIE—“

“Now!” He shouts. 

A sound similar to a freight train reaches your ears and panic courses through your veins. Joel pulls on your arm again and this time you follow, jumping from the truck and running as fast as you can. He reaches an arm back towards you, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. He veers to the left, the two of you sliding down a muddy embankment and landing in a ditch. 

“Get up,” Joel urges, helping you to your feet. “We gotta get down over there by that bridge, come on!”

Together you trudge through the mud, wind picking up speed around you as the cyclone draws closer. You have your arm held up to shield your eyes from debris and your other hand in front of you, gripping Joel’s jacket tightly. 

You make it beneath the cover of the bridge, a slight reprieve from the wind and rain. Joel squeezes his body tightly to yours, pressing you against the dirt and shielding you from the storm. You open your eyes, peering past his shoulder to where you can see the edge of the wide tornado base and the debris it kicks up in its wake. 

Suddenly, the world grows quiet. The air goes still, the rain slows from a downpour to a shower. You can feel Joel’s chest heaving with breath against yours, cadence of it matching the pounding of your heart. He backs away slowly and lifts his hands, gently cupping your face.

“You okay?” Joel breathes, eyes searching. You wrap your hands around his wrists and nod. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, slowly, before he releases your face. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Hey! You’re alive!” You both look up to find Tess at the top of the embankment, hands on her hips. “Tommy owes me twenty bucks!”

“He should know better than to bet against me,” Joel says. His attention returns to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Back at street level, you assess the damage. Your truck has been flipped, the ELLIE unit dented but still intact. More notably, the sensors didn’t deploy.

“Fuck,” you curse. “All of that and it didn’t even open.”

“There’s always next time,” Tess assures you.

“You know…we could all use a shower….and a meal,” Tommy says. You shoot him a look.

“No.”

“Come on,” he needles. “You’re covered in mud. We’ll need to get your truck towed somewhere for repairs.”

“I said no.”

“We haven’t had anything but shitty diner food and granola bars for four days,” Maria adds.

“You must really want a hot a meal if you’re willing to face Uncle Bill.”

“That a yes?” Tommy asks. Everyone watches you expectantly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joel rides in the van with Tommy and Maria while you go with Tess in her truck. It doesn’t take long to reach the familiar ranch style home that sits on four acres of farmland, complete with a barn that’s become more for show than for function in your Uncle Bill’s older age. 

When the van pulls up to the house, Bill’s husband, Frank, is outside on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with a drink in hand. He waves as Tommy honks to announce their arrival.

The front door opens, Bill’s large frame filling the doorway. His beard has grown since the last time Joel saw him, and it seems as though his ever present frown has too. Joel watches you run up the porch steps and wrap your arms around both men, though Bill is quick to shove you off when he sees the state you’re in. Despite the reaction, Joel can see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Joel stays towards the back of the group as they approach. He won’t go so far as to say he’s hiding, but it’s a near thing. Handshakes and hugs are exchanged right up until Bill catches sight of him.

“Joel,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Uncle Bill,” Joel replies.

“Just Bill is fine.”

Joel clears his throat, avoiding the man’s gaze. you appear behind him, breaking the tension. 

“I’m going to take a shower and then I can help you with dinner,” you tell Bill.

“Who said I was feeding you?” 

“Frank did.”

“Sorry, honey!” Frank yells from the kitchen. 

Joel escapes Bill’s attention with your distraction, darting into the kitchen to join the others. He helps Frank peel and dice potatoes while Maria and Tess make biscuits and Tommy helps Bill grill up a towering plate of steaks and burgers. Despite his outward show of annoyance, your Uncle Bill is a good guy who always takes care of the crew when they come rolling into his driveway, half starved and exhausted. 

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Frank comments, tone light. 

“Didn’t expect to be back,” Joel replies. 

“What brings you here, then?”

“Got tired of waitin’ on her to sign the divorce papers.”

Frank hums in response and Joel braces himself for a speech but a minute passes in silence. Then two minutes. Frank sets his potato peeler down and leans his hip against the counter, facing Joel.

“It’s a real shame,” he says, shaking his head and staring out the window to where Bill and Tommy are laughing together. “You two were really good together.”

Joel doesn’t reply, because what is there to say? Frank is right. You and Joel were good together. Where Joel was hotheaded, you were calm. Where Joel took things too seriously, you were more carefree. But perhaps the greatest difference between you two was where Joel let fear stop him in his tracks, you let it drive you. 

It’s what started the arguments in the first place. He started feeling like he was getting too old, too worn out for chasing storms. He wasn’t as sharp as he used to be, not as quick, and it was starting to hang heavy over his head. Thoughts of retirement came to him more frequently and each time he brought it up, it would ignite an argument until he just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. It was just easier to walk away.

“Shower’s free,” you announce as you enter the kitchen, no longer caked in mud. 

“My turn,” Joel says. Frank gives him a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything about his silence and swift exit.

Dinner is ready when he's finished with his shower and he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. The whole scene, the normalcy of it, makes Joel feel like a ship returning to port after rough seas. He missed this -- the inside jokes, the playful ribbing, Bill's annoyed huffs and Frank's wide eyed stare as he listens to you recount the events of the day. You even pat his knee when you notice his leg bouncing beneath the table, like the gesture is second nature, even though you haven't done it in the two years since he's left.

He helps with the dishes after everyone has finished eating and puts away what little leftovers remain. Tommy and Maria decide to go to bed in one of the guest rooms while Tess remains in the living room, watching a rerun of Jeopardy with Frank. Joel notices that you're nowhere to be found, but he has a feeling he knows exactly where you've gone.

He leaves the house through the back door, heading through the field towards the barn. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orange glow as the sky begins to turn shades of purple instead of blue. The old wooden doors creak as he pries them open and steps inside the building, the smell of hay hitting him in the face like a wall.

There's a loft, accessible by a ladder, that he knows you've made your own. It's been your escape ever since you were a kid, when you came to live with your Uncle Bill after a storm that destroyed your home and ripped your parents from you. He climbs up to the loft, hoisting himself onto the platform.

You're sitting on the wood floor, a quilt from the house spread out beneath you. You’ve brought a lamp up with you, warm light beating back the rapidly oncoming darkness. You look up when he stands.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. He kneels onto the quilt with you.

“Hey.”

You shift your weight until you’re lying on your back and Joel does the same beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re both quiet for a long moment, sounds from the field drifting in through the cracks in the wood. 

“When will it be enough?” Joel finally asks. You sigh.

“Not this again,” you complain. 

“What is it about retirement that scares you so damn much?”

“Retirement doesn’t scare me. I could take the easy way out, too. I could make a pretty little weather woman for some local news channel, but that’s not what I want. It’s never been what I want.” You take a deep breath. “So stop acting surprised that I won’t change for you or anyone else, for that matter. And if that’s something that you can’t love about me—“

“It ain’t about not lovin’ you. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you,” he interrupts, lifting himself so that he can look at your face. Your eyes are glassy, streaks of wetness stretching from the corners to your temple. “But I can’t ever be enough for you.”

Your expression changes, shifting from sadness to surprise to anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gettin’ older, I’m not as good at this gig as I used to be.”

“That’s why you left? Because you think you’re…what? Holding us back?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No! You big fucking idiot,” you snap. “I can’t believe this.” You sit up, shoving his shoulder and knocking him onto his back. You throw your leg over him, settling over his lap. His hands settle on your thighs, a reflex that hasn’t faded. Your expression is stern as you stare down at him. “You will always have a place with us. With me.”

Joel lets your words sink in, the light of them illuminating the dark parts of his mind that had convinced him you were better off without him. He slides a hand up your belly, over your chest, curling it around the back of your neck and urging you forward.

You come to him easily, your lips finding his.

It feels like coming home.

Joel’s mouth is eager as he kisses you, devours you, hands hot on your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You missed this, the feeling of being consumed by him, from your body and down to your soul. 

He rolls the two of you over, easing you down onto your back and hovering over you. You gaze up at him, noting the deeper creases by his eyes and the grey that has started to become more prominent in his hair and the only thought that comes to you is how beautiful he is. 

Joel leaves wet kisses on your neck in three spots — just below your ear, right over your pulse, and just above your clavicle, a pattern he established years ago. The warm air chills the spots he’s left behind as he moves lower, down your chest, pushing up your shirt to give the same attention to your belly. It makes your stomach flip, the way he peeks up at you with dark eyes when he reaches the waist of your jeans. 

Instead of moving lower, his focus returns to your breasts. He moves the cups of your bra down to reveal your tight nipples, warm tongue circling each bud in turn. You squirm beneath his weight, cry out when his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. You can feel the smile that graces his lips.

“Still so sensitive,” he says. You gently whack his head in retaliation. “Quit it. Be a good girl or you won’t get your reward.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur. 

“That’s it, knew you could be good for me.” He squeezes your breast in one large hand. “Just needed the right motivation.”

He sits back on his heels and makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants, tugging the zipper down before curling his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear. Barrier discarded, he settles on his belly between your thighs, face close enough to your core that you can feel the quick brush of his breath on your needy cunt. You wiggle your hips, hoping to spur him into action, but a strong arm holds you still and you let out a low whine.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Joel asks, fingers lightly tracing your skin. “Somethin’ you want? Somethin’ you need?”

“You,” you mumble.

“Louder.”

“You, Joel.”

He kisses your inner thigh, stubble scratching the sensitive skin and making you shiver. Your breath catches in anticipation as he draws nearer to your heat. 

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds is like a bolt of lightning to your system, every nerve ending lighting up and your blood coursing hot in your veins. He starts off slow, just the way you like it, broad circles over your clit until you’re squirming in his hold. Then he dips lower, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside of you while his nose continues to nudge your aching clit. 

He brings you to the very edge of release before backing off, just enough that you don’t tip over before he’s ready for you to. It drives you crazy, has you cursing his name and begging for him in equal measure, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, generous yet greedy.

“Joel,” you cry, his name a plea. “Are you going to let me come?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says. His chin is shiny with with spit and slick when he looks up, eyes a little wild and hair messy from your fingers. “But not yet.”

“Fuck!” You snap, head dropping to the wood floor with a thud as he presses two thick fingers inside of you, curling them with each drag from your body.  His mouth rejoins the effort, lips wrapping around your clit. It’s too much and so good, that wave of pleasure finally coursing through you as you shatter from his ministrations.

He works you through it, tongue gentle and fingers stilling inside of you, your cunt pulsing around them. When your muscles finally relax, he sits up, holding his hand up to your face and pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, the earthy taste of your release exploding across your taste buds as you lick the digits clean.

“Missed this,” Joel murmurs, watching you intently. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” you reply. You reach your hand up, running it down his chest until you’re cupping the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Missed this, too.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking with the force of it. It pulls a smile from you, your beautiful man so carefree, no sign of that troubled wrinkle between his brows and his cheeks flushed with life, the same way they are when he’s coming down from the adrenaline of a chase. He unbuttons his jeans, shimmies the denim down just enough to free his cock.

Joel grips himself at the base, flushed head peeking from his fist. He teases your entrance, slipping his length through your wetness and bumping your still sensitive clit. Your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, one that Joel echoes himself as he slowly, slowly, slowly pushes inside of your tight heat.

“Joel,” you whisper, fingers curling tight into the quilt beneath you. “Joel.”

“I know,” he says. “God, I know.”

When his hips are flush with yours, he leans forward, elbows on either side of your head propping himself up. His cock fills you so perfectly, the stretch almost too much to bear as he starts to move. Each purposeful thrust has you seeing stars, has you gasping and moaning his name. He silences you with his lips, so messy and uncoordinated it can hardly be called a kiss. You clench around him, desperate to keep him inside of you with each drag from your body. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Joel groans. “Can you come for me, baby? One more time?”

“Mhm,” you hum. He picks up the pace, quick strokes that hit your g-spot with impressive precision. You feel the knot of your release grow tighter, tighter, until it finally unravels, every nerve ending lighting up like you’ve been struck by lightning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he presses deep, cock twitching and spilling inside of you.

Joel presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling on your skin as minutes pass. When he lifts his head and stares down at you, it’s with a smile on his face.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you agree. “See? You still got it, old man.”

“Nevermind, I still want a divorce.”

You laugh, loud and carefree. For the first time in years, you feel a sense of peace.

A sense of home.

The two of you get caught in an unexpected downpour as you leave the barn and Joel follows the sound of your laughter as you run through the field back to the main house. Inside, you press a kiss to Joel’s lips, water dripping to the floor beneath you. You’re smiling and he swears he’s never felt more alive, even when chasing the biggest storm.

When you break apart, you whisper that you’re going to take another shower and change. Joel tells you he’s going to clean up the mess to avoid Bill’s wrath. Another kiss, and another, until you finally break away and shut yourself in the bathroom down the hall. He stands there for a moment, lost in thought, until the sound of the shower running spurs him into motion and he goes to search for a towel to clean up the water that’s pooled in the hallway.

As he passes by the living room, heading for the linen closet, he notices the TV is on, the room illuminated in its flickering glow. He stops in the doorway and Frank looks up at him, a knowing smile on his face.

Joel smiles back.

For now, it’s their little secret.

The next day, Bill deems your truck operational. It has a fresh new set of dents and scratches, but it’ll otherwise drive despite the abuse. You spend some time inspecting the unit and determine the lid latch is a little too secure, which explains why the sensors couldn’t deploy. Joel helps you loosen the bolts, the simple task taking twice as long with how often he distracts you when your crew members aren’t looking. You replace the latch with another tether strap that can be quickly released on deployment.

When all is said and done, everyone takes turns saying goodbye to your uncles. Frank tells you to be safe and Bill tells you to not be stupid, which is essentially the same thing. You watch as Joel receives a handshake from Bill that’s a tad too firm, if the grimace on his face is anything to go by. 

“Alright, let’s head out,” Maria says, eyes scanning a computer screen. “Radar’s got something forming about twenty miles north of here.”

“What kind of something?” You ask.

“A big something.”

Joel catches your eye and gives you a wink. 

“Let’s go get ELLIE into the air.”

The sky ahead of you is pitch black, clouds churning ominously. There’s a certain liminality when you’re driving into a storm that never ceases to amaze you, the image in the rearview mirror bright with sunlight but a foreboding darkness ahead of you. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, drawing your attention. His hand rests on your thigh, fingers tapping against your knee. “Not gettin’ cold feet, are you?”

“About this?” You nod towards the sky. “Never.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Guys? You won’t believe this,” Maria says over the radio. You grab the transmitter.

“What is it?” You ask.

“There’s two cells. Radar maxed out.” 

“They’re funneling back,” Tess adds. “This isn’t looking good.”

“You saying we can’t do it?” You ask.

The radio is quiet for a moment before Tommy says, “If anyone can, it’s you two.”

“What are we up against?” Joel asks.

“Cell one is measuring at the cusp of a three, cell two is reaching four,” Maria continues.

“Joel.” You tap his arm. “Look.”

A funnel has formed ahead of you, still teetering in the air and not quite making contact with the ground. It’s only a few miles ahead and Joel hits the brakes as he takes it in. 

“What’s the trajectory of this?” He asks.

“Northeast.”

It’s heading your way. You both scramble from the truck, climbing into the bed to prepare ELLIE — Joel removing the tethers while you turn the unity on. The wind picks up speed as you work, dust from the road whipping around you and making it difficult to see.

“Let’s get her down!” Joel shouts. He jumps to the ground and together you ease the equipment onto the ground, removing the lid tether. After what feels like ages, ELLIE is ready and you both return to the truck.

Joel turns the truck around and drives in the opposite direction of the cyclone’s path. He stops and you can hardly breath as you watch the storm tear across the landscape.

“This is it!” Tess shouts through the radio. 

You grab Joel’s hand as the funnel nears ELLIE, the wind making the unit shift and sway. You swallow nervously.

“It’s too light,” you murmur. 

“No it’s not,” Joel says confidently. 

Closer and closer the funnel moves, but ELLIE doesn’t lift from the ground. You’re biting your lip so hard that the taste of copper blooms across your tongue.

“We’ve got a shift!” Maria says. “We’ve got a shift, due north. Due north.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, slamming a hand on the steering wheel.

“Guess who just showed up?” Tommy adds.

Far across the field, a familiar caravan of black vehicles speeds towards the cyclone. 

“What channel are they using?” You ask. There’s a brief silence until Tess calls back, “Six. Why?”

You switch the channel. “Marlene, you have to anchor the unit.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” she calls back. “Trying to make history over here.”

“Listen to me. Unless you manage to position your unit right under a touchdown, it’s not going to get picked up. And if it doesn’t pick up, it doesn’t deploy.”

“Maybe that’s just an issue with your unit. I can assure you ABBY will succeed where ELLIE failed.”

“Goddamnit,” you snap, tossing the transmitter down. 

“Can’t fix stupid,” Joel says. He hits the gas, bringing the truck back to ELLIE. “Let’s load her back up, maybe we can catch the second cell.”

Pack loaded once more, you return to the cab. Joel is about to put the park in drive when you place a hand over his chest. 

“Do you see what I see?” You ask.

Joel watches the twister, then Marlene’s team. He grabs the radio. 

“Marlene, listen to me. That monster is going to shift and if it does, you’re in the path of destruction and that base is too wide for you to get out of there. You have to hang back now.”

“Radar isn’t showing a shift. I’m not missing this chance,” Marlene replies.

“You gotta look at the funnel action, too. Not just the radar. You’re goin’ to get yourself killed!”

“Clear this channel, Joel. I’ve got work to do.”

“Fuck!” Joel snaps. 

Sure enough, the cyclone shifts its path, a minute change with dire consequences for Marlene and her team. The twister barrels toward the caravan, vehicles lifting from the ground. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. 

“I know,” he says. His throat bobs around a pained swallow. “We did what we could.”

Joel switches the radio back to your team’s channel, a flurry of panicked voices filling the cab. Maria’s voice snaps your name.

“Do you read me? The second cell has organized, five miles east moving north along 80.”

“Copy that,” you say as Joel drives in her suggested direction. “What’s it looking like?”

“Too soon to tell but the cloud base is massive.”

Joel drives parallel to Maria’s path suggestion, racing to get ahead of the storm. The funnel begins to form, dropping down from the restless clouds. It’s one of the biggest you’ve seen, more of a column of wind than a tapered cyclone. The strength of it grows as it hits the warm air, touching down with a contact point as wide as the funnel base.

“Wind speed is measuring at an estimated 270 miles per hour. We’ve found ourselves an F5,,” Maria says. “She’s slow, but strong. Movement only measuring at ten miles per hour, still heading east.”

Joel changes direction, heading towards the storm from the back, rather than trying to get ahead of it. 

“ELLIE needs an anchor,” you remind him.

“I know,” he says, looking over at you. “I’m giving her one.”

“We’re using the truck?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No, no, go ahead. Can’t wait to explain this one to insurance.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and take the radio one more time. “We’re sending the truck up with ELLIE. If this works, get ready for the best data in history.”

“Roger that,” Tess replies. “Ready for the feed.”

Another mile ahead, Joel gets the truck speed up to fifty miles per hour before setting the cruise control. He unbuckles his seat belt and you follow suit, throwing the passenger door open and holding onto the grab handle.

“One,” Joel shouts. “Two!”

“Three!” You finish, jumping from the cab. You hit the ground hard, rolling through your landing, the air punched from your lungs. When you’ve caught your breath, you get yourself on your hands and knees, frantically searching for Joel.

He’s kneeling in the road, watching as the truck continues to barrel towards the twister. You crawl to him and he pulls you close, an arm around your waist to hold you up beside him.

“Go, go, go!” He shouts. 

The sound of brakes squealing has you looking back over your shoulder to see your team has arrived. They gather behind you, Tess snapping photos at rapid speeds, Tommy recording video, and Maria’s eyes glued to her computer. You look ahead, just in time to watch the truck disappear into the swirling mass of debris.

Everyone is silent for a long moment, waiting. Watching. Hoping.

“I’m getting a read!” Maria shouts. “She’s up! ELLIE is flying!”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Joel, we did it.”

“You did it, baby,” he says. 

The twister doesn’t last long. Its power wanes, the cyclone breaking up and retreating back into the sky. You have no idea where your truck has landed, but you don’t care. You and Joel stand up, your legs shaky from the rush of adrenaline. He takes your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, Tommy!” Tess shouts.

Joel pulls away with a laugh. “What did I tell you about bettin’ against me?”

“Does this mean you’re back?” Maria asks.

The arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’m back.”

[tinydefector]

Rut Cycle- Jazz

Jazz x human

Word count: 2k

Rut cycle masterlist

Jazz masterlist

Warnings: Smut, Size difference, Alpha/Omega hinted, Heat/Ruts, creampie, Oral

Other info: I've got a vote going for who you guys want next but this is a full on Gen 1 ones hot series I'm making.

__________________

The whole autobot base is on high alert due to everyone's rut cycle hitting. The multiple meeting between the Autobots and Decepticons over a ceasefire truce for Rut cycles. Jazz's Engine lets out a churn of noises as he leans back against his berth, he had decided it was for the best he retire after the meetings, it meant he was less likely to have problems with the scent of the human allies that also roamed the Ark, most of the humans had been asked to go home for the next week and a bit but a few still hung around. 

The soft sound of knocking breaks Jazz out of his thoughts as he moves towards the door to see who it is. Jazz’s visor flickers as he sees his favourite little human standing at his doorstep with a cube of energon on a cart for him. They smile as they look up at him. “Boss bot said you'd be back here, thought I'd drop you off a cube and come hang out if you're up for it” they state while pushing it into his room. 

 Primus they weren't helping the situation despite how much they tried to assist the bots, how close they came To nearly being snatched up by starscream in their meeting early, he knew it was just the rut and how sweet their scent was to the bots but even he was getting close to his limits with how much he could handle before he eventually succumb to the old coding. 

He cycled a deep ventilation, savouring the sweet crystal high grade smell wafting from their form. It makes his sensors ache and his engine whine in need. “ thanks Lil’ Bit. Yer always lookin’ out fer us bots.” He hums as he leans down to grab the Energon Cube. Primus, they stirred circuitry like nothing ever had. 

“Reckon ya better skedaddle now, ‘fore things get outta hand round here. We’ll be right as rain once this wave passes... but it ain’t no place fer a little sweet thing like yerself,  while tension are High with the Cons.” Most of the Bots hadn't Told the humans the reason as to why they had been asked to leave, many believed it was because of the Decepticons, and the Autobots not wanting any harm to come to them, in truth that was only part of the reason, the other part was how their scent made the cybertronians Rut worse and many of them weren't willing to risk hurting any of their allies Due to it. Didn’t stop Jazz from wishing, though, just for a taste, but he knew it wouldn't stop at just a taste.

Slight worry crosses their face as they look up at Jazz.  "Robo flu?, you didn't get that static bug again, or that little critter the Cons made which caused so much issue in the base last time" They teasingly inquire as they press a hand to his plating as if to check him for a fever out of habit. 

a ragged vent of air leaves him at their touch, joints locking to steel against surging charge and wanting to grab them. Plating heated beneath their hand. His visor lit with barely-restrained longing as azure optics peered down at their concerned face. "Ain't no bug, cher," he lamented softly. "Jus' a bit of a... condition we bots get sometimes. Nuthin' t' worry yer pretty headplate 'bout." 

Gentle digits itched to trace the curve of their cheek, taste their skin against glossa sensors gone mad with need. But he'd offlined his hardsuit protocols, locking down his traitorous system until after they left the room. His frame grew hotter with each passing breem. 

"Ya best skedaddle now, sweetspark." His field pulsed bittersweet promise of a raincheck, "And leave you by your lonesome while Prowl's even more foul?, could keep you company and get you energon when you need it, plus don't need you having a short circuit while i'm gone, cant have my favourite DJ sick can i?" The sweet scent on their skin has Jazz nearly drooling as they offer to stay with him and keep him company. 

Jazz cycled a shuddering vent engine whining loudly in need, grip creaking upon his half-empty cube as lithe form crossed their arms as they moved to make themself comfortable on his berth that was now piled with Blankets, tarps, polish clothes. 

His systems flashing warning as the magnetic field begged surrender to baser instincts, he desperately wanted to interface or at least let off some steam before he lost his mind and control. "Gonna hafta refuse that favour, li'l sweet. Y'got no idea ... th' things ya do t'me right now." His digits flexed, aching to caress them, claim. He walks to the other side of the room as if an injured animal that's cornered.  

Optics linger over their temptin' outline, memorising every curve as if famine-struck. "Please, lil' spark. F'r both our sakes." His Field pulsed apologetically for cutting their visit short, but he couldn't risk them. They stand up on the berth as he walks around in circles. 

Worry lingers on their face as they try to calm him down. “Jazzie talk to me, you're walking around like a cornered animal and you're worrying me” they state as he stops in front of them, his frame stiff as he holds off one last attempt to let them leave before he does something he would regret. Jazz nearly purrs as they cup his face looking up at his visor. Their hands feel divine against his faceplate. 

 The last shred of Jazz's ironclad control sheared away as they ran their fingers across his faceplate holding his face as they stared into his optics as sparked couples would. Tender servo curls around their waist as he uses a digit to lift their chin as a rumble resonated from his cracked spark.  "So sweet t'care... but ya jus' don' understand, li'l sweetspark." Trembling digits traced the fragile line of their face, unable to withstand their pull any longer. 

A deep, subsonic field pulsed from his frame. “I think I've got enough of an idea” they state while pressing their lips to his. A thundering roar leaves his engine as he grabs hold of them pulling them up against his frame as his lips desperately move against theirs. Tasting the sweet yet sinful flavour that is their skin. 

 He cycled his systems,warnings flashing critical. but Primus, how he ached to finally seize what haunted his every fantasised line of code...They whined loudly against his lips, his name muttered between breaths.

All of Jazz's fraying restraint snapped like cheap cabling. A strangled keen tore from his vocalizer as delicate grip yanked them flush against Plating as he eagerly pressed them down against the berth. 

He seized their jaw in a trembling servo, glossa delving past yielding lips with a starved groan. They taste like ecstasy and Rust sticks. Another rumble left deep from his frame. 

His other servo scoured down their back in rapture, digits aching to rip through their clothing and discard it across the floor. "Cher..." he gasped against their mouth. Name spilled like prayer as his interface panel snapped open his spike snaking out, straining against their covered form. 

Whimpered moans leave them as his servos grip thier clothing, dragging it off their body as he throws it across the room, glossa tracing down their form as he eagerly laps against their skin. 

At their little nosies Jazz’s Optics flared, visor blazing, Trembling servos gentled spead their thighs, pressing gentle kisses along them before he bites down and sucks a mark into the skin. “H-hold on t’ me, li’l one,” he rasped out as his glossa traces along their sex “Jus’ hang on tight. Lemme take care’a ya...” 

Slowly, with far more grace than rationality warranted, Jazz began to rock his Glossa against their pulsing warmth with aching care. A loud groan and engine roar leaves him at the taste of them. His optics drank in every flicker of pleasure stealing across their face as the arch and rock against him.

 His spike aches and leaks against the bedding as he slowly works his little human open with his glossa, preping and readying them.  

Jazz burrowed his faceplate between their quivering legs, purrs interlacing pleasured moans dragging from his vocals. His servo curled beneath their legs, hitching them higher. "Primus, babydoll.. so perfect..." He gasped prayers and profanities, they arch and grip his helm as his glossa continues to drive into them. Their gasping cries, have his engine roaring louder.

He pulls away for a moment as he flips them lifting their hips up as he grinds his needy spike against their back, a guttural moan leaves him before he snarls, gripping their waist firmly. Jazz shuddered out a keening groan as he slowly presses his spike into them, stretching them to accommodate his size. 

so tight - so hot and sweet he feared offlining upon first plunge into their sweet little form, their scent driving him wild as his field lets out pulse of energy.  

He curled his servos around their fragile hips, grinding slowly into them, helm tilted back as he clenchs his denta from how tight of a fit it is. "Frag, yes!" he bellowed, slowly picking up pace as he drives into them. Their hands grip onto the blankets as needy moans and cries fall from their lips each time Jazz thrust back into them, grinding his spike into their Smaller form. 

" So beautiful, so perfect...mmm, my Lil mate..." He gasped brokenly, intake clenching.

His thrusts turned feral, spike swelling. He dragged their joined frames up. Holding them to his frame as he goes into frenzy, slamming brutally home again and again.

"Mine," Jazz snarled ferally. "Gonna overload ya so fraggin' good, li'l cher..."

Another savage buck of his hips sent them keening, body pulsing and bucking as they cry out from pleasure. “Jazz oh God!, Jazz!” They claw at his plating desperately trying to grab hold of his arm as he drives into them as feral snarls leave him. A guttural groan echoed from Jazz's intake as their clamp and fluttered wildly around his spike, 

"Frag, li'l bit-, that it, mmm so good" he moans, His spike throbbed mercilessly within their small channel, Another ragged groan was wrenched from depths of his frame as their orgasm hits, his name falling from their lips as if it were a prayer.

He tenses, another guttural moan leaves him and he presses them back down onto the berth, frantically griding into thier tight body. spike pulsing frantically. With a static-laced keen, Jazz finally tumbled over the edge, filling their much smaller body to the brim with bright pink transfluid. Jazz threw back his head with a roar as their tiny frame rolled back to meet each piston in desperation as he pumps more and more into their needy hole. "Frag, yes sweetspark - take it, take m'transfluid, take it all!" 

He rolled deftly within, overload ripped through wiring in a cascade. Transfluid spurted from them as it rolls down their  thighs onto the berth as Jazz holds them close, smaller whines leavign his intake as he grinds into their shuttering body.  

With one finally thust he settles, fan systems on full blast as his frame desperately tries to cool down as he rolls to his side, cradling their body against his, holding them close, his other servo piles the blankets around their exhausted body as he keeps them plugged with his spike. Little whimpered whines leave them as he leans his helm down to press a gentle kiss to their forhead. His systems are slow to reboot, but one thing was for certain,  he wasn't finished with them and he would be damned to the pits if he let them leave his berth until after everyone's rut had subsided. “don't move Babydoll, ain't done with ya yet” he mumbles voice still static laced as his optics shutter behind his visor. 

___________

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[cinakira]

dual function IR sensor switches for 12V led lights .(hand wave sensor and door trigger sensor )

mini shape and easy installation .

IR motion sensor switch#IR sensor switch # 12v ir sensor switch#

ir door sensor switch#

[bkglovergirl]

♡𓂃Room 381

Bakugou X Reader

𓏲 ࣪The school tells the students the exciting news! now you gotta deal with the fact you have a new 'husband' who could care less about this whole situation.

Word count; 1.6k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

The bell rings. There is tension in the air. Not because of a villain attack, no, there hasn't been one in days, but because all teachers have ordered all students back to the classrooms for an important discussion. No one knows what this is about and in this school, this could be anything. You pick up your bag and look around for any familiar faces hoping you can have a conversation about the situation, the lunch room is almost bare but you catch a familiar redhead and run up to him. “Hey Todoroki!” you smile at him giving him a small wave. He stops his movements and looks at you.

“Hi,” he says. It sounds very bland, you think, but what can you expect? Maybe he’s nervous as well.

“Can I walk with you to class? I’m nervous about this big discussion thing.” Todoroki starts walking but looks at you to continue the conversation so you take that as a yes and follow.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” you give him a face.

“What’s there? Are you for real asking me that right now?!” You turn to walk backward and face him. “I don’t know, let’s think. A Hero retires, A Hero has died, they are shutting down UA, a student has gone missing, the teachers are robots, and they want to recruit us!” It seems Todorokis's blank face has gotten even blanker.

“All those were completely reasonable until the last one. Do you always automatically think of the worst-case scenarios?”

“Well kinda but it’s not my fault.” you cross your arms, “you gotta think of the worse case scenarios when it comes to this line of work-!” you walking backwards didn’t notice how close you were getting to the classroom, which means you didn't notice the blond who was right near the door causing you to bump into him.

“Watch it bitch!” Bakugou pushes you away causing you to fall about into Todoroki. 

“Alright asshole I’m not a freaking domino! You didn't need to push me!” you yell back in defense moving away from Todoroki. All Bakugou can do is give a scowl and walk into the classroom. “I Know I said it but I’m gonna say it again. What an asshole.” Todoroki nods following you into the classroom. 

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“Alright class I regret to inform you that the school board has decided that not only is it not enough we teach you hero skills we must now domesticate you. Following your continued hero work you will now be paired with someone who will be your fake married partner. You will have your dorms, each including bedrooms that only you can access with your thumbprint. You will be monitored with a sensor. If you can’t get along and you get no points or even worse, negative points you fail the semester. Which means no work study. No fighting.” Aizawa slips into his sleeping bag unusually quickly. The class is quiet for a moment before yelling commences. Questions are yelled and it isn't until Aizawas face looks annoyed it gets silent. The room is quiet enough you can hear other classrooms having the same reaction you all just had. You can’t help but think you were so far off in your assumptions and at this point you wish a hero was retiring. “I will answer questions but I am not talking over all of you.” Hands are quickly raised.

“What happens if you are paired up with someone insufferable?” Yaoyorozu asks, she’s bold but the majority of the class was thinking about it.

“To help encourage points if a pair can get over a 100 and have an overall ‘A’ Grade, you and your partner have the option to switch pairs with another group who is also in an overall ‘A’ Grade.” You and a couple of people sigh. It’s a relief.

“How does this Sensor work?” Midoriya asks, noting that he already has his notebook out on his desk.

“It looks like a camera, but it’s not. Created by some tech-savvy departments, it can sense and scan emotions and calculate to decide what points a pair shall receive. For example, if the pair gets into an argument, the machine with scan picks up what it needs to and calculates it into the point system. And more Mumbo jumbo.”

“So why exactly is this happening?” You ask.

“The school board wants to show what it’s like to balance the life you all hopefully will have when you graduate while still being a hero… there is more to it but that's neither here nor there. Pairings will be posted in a few. I need a nap.” And that's it. Aizawa closes his sleeping bag and the class is left with dreed until the pairings come out.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

A knock is heard at the door and Aizawa slowly unzips his sleeping bag and answers the door, grabbing the paper and walking in front of the class. Everyone is quiet. Aizawa tapes the paper onto the board. “Some of you are paired with people in here and others are paired with others in other classes. I want absolutely no complaints. Next to your name is the room of your dorms.” As you would expect he goes back into his sleeping bag and the room is engulfed in chaos, everyone runs to the board, adrenaline running to see who they got. Gradually pairs start forming some cheers and some blushing tension. You get to the board and scan the paper. Down at the bottom in black ink ‘Y/N L/N and Katsuki Bakugou room 381’ 

“You gotta be fucking joking.” Of course, you two find your names at the same time. Why does he sound so disgusted, you're a fucking treat! You are about to remark him but before you can Aizawa comes out of his sleeping bag.

“It looks like you all found your names. Class is going to start now, so go back to your seats.” Are we just going to act like nothing just happened?! 

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

The class had ended, and the girls and you were walking to your new dorms with some of your things from your old dorms. You were quiet, way too quiet for someone to notice.

“Girl you okay?” Ochaco hugs your arm, “normally you are leading our conversations.”

“No, duh, she’s quiet! She's got Bakugou as her husband,” you say silently, wondering if Mina could be any louder.

“I’m gonna die. Or my eardrums are gonna die. Either way, something is dying!” You can’t help but complain.

“What’s the deal with you both anyway?” Kyoka questions, “Normally people can have at least one decent conversation with Bakugou, But I’ve never seen you guys even hold a simple conversation. He won’t even communicate in battle with you? And he communicates with Midoriya.”

“I honestly don’t even know.” Truth is you did know and it was an embarrassing story that no one can get out of you. You went to middle school with both Bakugou and Midoriya. Over time and God knows how this happened you gained a crush on him and decided it would be a brilliant idea to confess. When you did it was a total embarrassment not only did he laugh in your face and shut you down, but He told those punk friends of his and they made your middle school life an embarrassment. You swore since that day he was your enemy. Childish yes? But still partly true to this day.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

You wave the girls goodbye and look at your new dorm you share with your new ‘Husband.’ You can’t help but think how ironic this is. You take a deep breath and enter the dorm. In the dorm is surprisingly a kitchen to your left and a small living room area in front with a door leading out to a balcony. Bakugou is sitting on the couch in the living room. It’s clear he’s already made himself comfortable with how he's sprawled out he is. You decided it’s just best to wait it out in your room and make yourself dinner once he goes to bed. You look and see two doors one with your name on it and another with Bakugou’s to the right of the living room area, you start walking over to your respective door.

“Don’t expect shit out of me.” 

“I never expect anything out of you.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Bakugou stands up facing you, “Who do you think you are saying that?!”

“If you aren't gonna put in any effort I’m gonna say whatever I want to you assface!” You both hear a ding. You didn't notice it before but over the TV is a point counter. Negative one. Not even five minutes into the dorm and you have negative points. “Oh now look what you did!”

“I didn't do that!”

“Yeah, you did!”

“Not my fault I don’t wanna do this stupid ass simulation. I just wanna be a Hero. Number one hero at that. A family and wife-” he points at you, “is just a stupid distraction from that and I don’t need this.” you roll your eyes and walk into your room, “DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME!” and you slam your door. You place your stuff down on your new bed and sit down putting your hands to your face. Your blushing?! Why the fuck are you blushing? Is it because he called you his wife? Which is stupid and just delusional, did you not hear what he said? A million thoughts are running through your head as you question yourself but nothing can deny the feelings in your stomach.

[mediocre-quill-ink]

Connor x shy!reader

Summary: Connor has a crush on reader and would like to know them better, but he has a feeling reader doesn't like him because reader is always so... stiff around him. Eventually connor confronts this issue.

"Hank?"

"Yeah?" He grunted back. Busy with whatever work he had to review.

"Has y/n spoken to you about me lately?"

Hank looked up at connor, raising an eyebrow. "What?" He made his confusion clear in his voice "what do you mean?"

"Well..." Connors gaze fell over to you, mostly keeping his stiff posture, but his fingers were fiddling with the fabric of his pants."Whenever I come near y/n, their heart rate increases. Their stress levels highten whenever I'm around them. I was wondering if y/n has spoken to you about me. If I did someone wrong."

Hank glanced over at you, then back at connor, gears turning in his head. "No, they haven't." He muttered back, then realization set in. "Ohhh, I know what's going on here." He whispered. "What do you mean lutenint?" Connor replied. He fixed on Hank as he pushed back from his desk slightly. He gave one final glance at you, his tongue stabbing his cheek. "You said they get, what? Stressed around you? Heart rate... that sort of stuff." Connor nodded."Yes."

He finally looked back at connor, lounging in his chair again. "Why does it bother you so much?" Connors gaze shifted slightly, hands fidgiting with his clothes again. "I'm... not sure." His gaze fixed on you for a moment. A bit longer than he intended.

Something about you just... captured him. Your smile, your voice, your hair... everything about you was just... beautiful. You were kind to him when you didn't need to, even defended him when Gavin was being a little shit.

But as kind as you were to him, whenever he approached you, you would stress out. Heart rate escalating, breath patterns change... he worried he did someone wrong. Perhaps he scared you. He was aware many humans were unsettled by androids if not for their... superiority, but they can sometimes be uncanny. Had he startled you? Intimidated you? Did he do something wrong?

"I suppose... I worry I made a bad impression on them." He finally stated. He wasn't lying, but it wasn't the whole truth. Connor himself didn't know what the full truth was, but he felt it twist in his metallic core. Hank leaned back into his desk, keeping a suspicious eye on Connor. "Then ask them." He suggested, a bit to aggressively. The led on Connors head flickered, considering.

Would that work? Would a confrontation actually fix this or just make things more awkward?

"Ask them?" He repeated.

"Yah, ask! What's the worst that'll happen, Connor?" He insisted.

Connor couldn't explain it, but anxiety started to build in his stomach. It's a feeling he didn't often feel, but when he did, it confused him. In the past, he was so self-assured, full of purpose, and felt as if nothing could bring him harm, but now, ever sense deviancy, he was scared.

"What? You can chase killers with wreakless abandon, but you can't ask someone what they are feeling?" Hank chuckled light heartedly. Connor couldn't help but feel a small smile appear on his face. "I could say the same for you, lutenint." He jabbed back.

He finally looked back at you. You were on your computer, seemingly researching a case and taking notes. You were gorgeous.

I can do this

Connor stood up and made his way to your desk. You were located in a far corner with no other people sharing desk space near you. It was nice to have a private space to do your work.

You glanced up to see Connor nearing you, and that's when Connors sensors started to go off again. Increased heart rate.

"Good evening, y/n!" Connor greeted.

Irregular breathing detected.

"Hi, Connor!" You smiled back, giving a gentle wave."What brings you to my oh so humble corner of the office?" You set down your pincel, swallowing hard, which he noticed. "May I take a seat? I won't stay to long." Connor stated, jesturing to an unused desk across from you. "Oh, of corse!" You replied

He promptly slit out the chair and sat in one foul swoop, efficient even when sitting. "I'm sorry if I've disturbed your work y/n, I don't mean to intrude." He glanced at what you were working on. Seemingly, a case on petty theft. "No, not at all. Honestly, I need a break." You sighed, placing a hand on your forehead.

Connors fingers began to play with the fabric of his pants again. "I came to speak about an issue it appears you have. About me. I was simply wondering what it was and if there was anything I could do to resolve this issue." There was a moment of silence where your brain just stopped working. Thinking. You gave him a very puzzled face, which made him confused as well.

"Issue? What issue?" You asked, eyes skittering around his face. "Well," Connor started, now a bit tense. Did he miscalculate? "When ever I'm in your vicinity, your heart rate and breath irregularite, sweat usually increasing as well. My presence stresses you out, don't I?"

Your face suddenly flushes to a darker hue. "Oh." Is all you state. But his sensors are proving his point. Heart going wild. Chest tight with shallow breaths. "Are you alright, y/n?" Connor asked, leaning in slightly. He threw a glance at Hank, who was back to his work. He knew this was a bad idea.

You finally let out a deep breath. "I'm fine, Connor." You sigh, regaining some sense or composure. "It's just... it's complicated. No, I don't have an issue with you, if that's what you're concerned about. You've done nothing wrong." You shook your head gently, picking up the pencil again, needing something to do with your hands. Connors led began to flash again, trying to figure out what this meant. "So I don't make you feel intimidated?" He muttered.

"No, no, not really. Not like that." You reply, now fidgiting with the pencil, you're avoiding eye contact now. Connors led continued to blink. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

He thought his extensive programming for human psychology would help him out, but somehow, he was left in the dark. "Why then, do you get so anxious when I'm around?"

You swallowed hard again, sweat starting to build. "It's dumb, Connor. Humans are... illogical, their minds go places they know are unrealistic. Thank you for caring, but I don't think you'd care if I told you."

Connor squinted slightly, a dozen questions racing through his head. What does that mean, "minds go places they shouldn't" what we're you thinking?

"But I do care." Was all he replied.

Your heart wrenched at that

you finally look at him. not a worried glance but actually look at him. his expression was soft and meaning. he looked so sincere. "oh, Connor..." you whisper. chest tightened, you hesitate for a moment before cautiously holding his hand. to flinch isn't the proper word but Connor reacted in a way that showed he wasn't expecting the sudden action.

should i tell him? you ask yourself.

clearly he cares. but... would he reciprocate? does he feel the same way or is he just... being nice.

you sigh. glancing around the room briefly. "I didn't realize how much you cared about this. about me." you mumble. Connors led stopped flickering for a moment, face hardening ever so slightly. "of course I do."

"alright. I'll tell you. I'm sorry for being so... uncooperative." you sigh, anxiety tightening. Connor simply nodded in response. "the reason I get so nervous around you is because I... like you. like, romantically." there's s moment of silence, his led flashing yellow for a moment. the sudden silence from the ever so quizitive detective is unsettling. you start to realize how square your shoulders are as you try to let out a chocking breath.

"say that again." he finally whispers back.

your gaze locks back on him, confusion twisted into your brows. "i like you." you reply.

Connors led finally stills. what ever eye contact he was making with you softens. "you do?" he replied softly. all you can do is nod. at that a small smile cracks on his face. you start to realize how ridged he was too because his posture relaxes slightly. "I like you too." he replied.

"really?"

"yes. I think so."

"think so?"

"no... no I know so." he finally stated.

you squeeze his hand in response "awesome. so... do you want to... date?" you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. "id love to."

[wingedcat13]

Siren Call: 3

[We’ve had past and present Minerva, but what about future?]

One day, Minerva will be familiar with the island’s crags and shelves. She’ll know the way the shore slope becomes a drop off and where the sandbars are, the color and density of all the coral, the migratory patterns of the species who pass by.

Today, she knows enough to avoid triggering the sensors. Even pauses to adjust one that’s started sagging out of place.

Minerva chooses not to walk up the beach, not wanting to track sand into the - house? Facility? Building? - not wanting to get sand caked to her feet and legs. Jumping straight up to the roof in a waterspout is also unnecessarily dramatic when there isn’t a fight to get to. So she just gathers herself, waits for a wave, and urges it a little higher, placing herself at its apex.

It gets her high enough that she can reach the railing of the overlooking balcony, with enough momentum to curl and tuck her body, cartwheeling over the rail partially just for the joy of motion. Even the smooth tiles feel rough compared to the water, strangely unyielding, and she wobbles just a little as she catches her bearings. Belatedly, she realizes she almost kicked the crap out of one of the balcony’s chairs. The little swerve she does is automatic. At least there wasn’t an audience-

“Minerva.” Says Synovus, sitting on the table because they’re deranged. There’s a surprised tilt to the end of her name, like half a question answering itself. They’re wearing civilian clothes again, and some part of Minerva’s mind can’t help noting that their arms are bare. “Welcome - back.”

One day, Minerva won’t scowl at them on reflex.

Today, she demands immediately, “Were you waiting for me?”

“Y-es?” Synovus hedges, not moving. “But also no? I was - I thought you’d be coming up from the shore.”

They sound almost abashed. But that’s too close to ‘embarrassed’ and Minerva is well aware that Synovus has no shame. She may have genuinely surprised them - they’re perched on the edge of the table, and had leaned away slightly. Synovus wanting to be a problem would have chosen a much more… blatant posture. Or at least to sit further back in the shadows. The absence of either a gaudy attention grabber or deliberate stealth indicated this middle ground was not an act. Or perhaps that’s what she’s meant to think.

One day, Minerva will not have to consciously pick aside the paranoia to see what is in front of her.

Today, it takes effort - but she does it.

With a sigh, she closes her eyes, and focuses on each part of her body, bringing herself down from the mild surge of adrenaline. One hand draws back the wet strands of her hair. The other removes the mask that was a gift. She leaves her eyes closed while she rubs the red marks out of her skin.

With her eyes closed, it’s easier to skip past the defensive retort, and say instead, “You could’ve at least had a coffee waiting for me.”

“I don’t actually know your preferences in that regard.” Synovus admits, and for a heartbeat Minerva is worried this will turn into a far too blunt conversation about homecomings, but - “Do you take it black? Iced? Green?”

Minerva scoffs, but it might have just been a laugh. Even she’s not sure. “White chocolate mocha.” She answers. “One shot espresso, oat milk.”

“Ah,” Synovus says, as Minerva opens her eyes. They seem to have had a revelation. “So that’s why Alexandria likes those Unicorn frappes so much. Hm. And here I usually go for the cider.”

A smile tugs at one corner of her mouth at the thought - Synovus, dread assassin, going to a coffee shop and ordering hot apple juice with whipped cream.

Minerva sets her mask on the table. “Stand up a minute.” She tells Synovus quietly, her voice nearly lost in the sound of the waves below.

“I don’t take direction well.” Synovus replies, even as they slide off the table and to their feet, turning to face her. There’s a caution to their movements, but also curiosity, written far more liberally across the unobscured face Minerva once never thought to see.

If Minerva meets their eyes too long, she’ll lose her nerve, so she winds up staring somewhere around Synovus’s collarbone instead. There’s a scar there, hidden for now by a high-necked top, and Minerva knows that because she put it there. It had been a targeted move: Synovus had broken her collarbone the fight before.

She wants to be better at giving back things other than pain.

“Just - give me a moment. Don’t move, please.” She’s pretty sure it’s the ‘please’ that gets them. Synovus goes so statue-still that Minerva’s not sure they’re blinking. But they don’t protest. And they certainly don’t move as Minerva steps forward.

And in one of the most awkward movements of her life, slides her arms around Synovus’s ribcage, setting her chin gently on their shoulder.

This is instantly easier when she no longer has to look at Synovus’s face. Well. When she can’t look. Can’t fixate on finding and parsing the smallest of expressions, assigning meaning to the specific tilt of a chin or speed of a blink. She’s still bad at it - hugging - because she usually just lets other people hug her, and initiating it is weird, but she can’t imagine Synovus is particularly good at it either.

After all, they’re still standing stock-still, and if Minerva wasn’t currently very aware of their breathing, she might even think they were panicking.

“Not a trap.” She mutters, and feels as much as hears Synovus’s responding huff. But their arms slowly, cautiously, hesitantly come up to return the embrace, hands resting lightly on her back. The side of Synovus’s head tips gently into hers.

One day, Minerva might not feel awkward about body contact and physical affection. One day, she may find herself as familiar with Synovus’s scars as she is her own. And she just might reach a point, eventually, where one of them could make a joke about this just being an excuse to get Synovus wet and not immediately both perish from the agony of an accidental allusion to arousal.

For today, this awkward embrace is enough.

———————————————————

Minerva probably won’t ever see a crowd as something other than a threat to be monitored.

Large groups have always made her tense, and that instinct had only gotten worse over the years. Most villains respect the ad hoc agreement about making an entrance, but there are a distinct few who would kill from a crowd. And there are those who are not villains in the distinct, identity sense, but would wreak havoc nonetheless.

So she scans the mall’s sheltered internal colonnade from behind her sunglasses, and listens to her daughter tell her about her day.

“- I just told him that I’d come from further South, and he didn’t ask me any more questions after that, but then freaking Brad asked me if I was an ‘illegal’ and I know what you mean now, about temptation to cram people into lockers. He’s lucky he’s so tall; I couldn’t fold him up to fit without taking some limbs off.”

Alexandria huffs, taking an aggressive pull from her milkshake. The stress of her life is getting to her - no teenager should have worry lines, or bags under their eyes that deep - but she insists this is what she wants. Even if Minerva sometimes wonders whether Alexandria sees herself as a member of the school’s attendees, or just a spectator who sometimes catches a stray ball.

“Did you tell Brad that?” Minerva asks mildly, mostly curious.

Alexandria sighs again, “No.” She says sullenly, shoulders slumping. “I asked him if he thought the government should determine who gets to live where, and then when he started to argue with me I told him I hoped his yacht sank with him on it.”

“Alexandria.” Minerva was still learning to find the right tone. The right amount of reproach, without exasperation or accusation. She must’ve gotten close, because Alexandria just lifts one hand in a ‘not me’ gesture.

“Specifically so he’d wash up in Mexico or Hawaii and get to be illegal himself.” She clarifies. “I don’t think that convinced anyone I wasn’t an immigrant, though. Til Seanna pointed out my grades in Spanish would probably be better.”

Minerva’s sigh is more restrained, but she points out, “There are other languages in South America. Brazilian Portuguese, for example.”

She’s not sure why she’s entertaining this, really.

“That’s true.” Alexandria ponders that for a moment, drinking more of her milkshake. “I mostly just meant to imply I was from one of the towns that got fu- uhhhh, screwed up by the power grabs.”

Minerva briefly leaves the conversation, remembering that shell of a place. The layouts, the dressings of a town, not quite abandoned yet but with nothing else to bleed.

Judging by the nudge she receives under the table, Alexandria isn’t totally oblivious to her distraction. She’s also changed the subject.

“So.” Alexandria is saying, drawing one syllable into three, “How are you and my godparent getting along?”

‘Godparent’ has become Alexandria’s favored way of referring to Synovus in public. It’s a joke on multiple levels, some of which Synovus seems to appreciate. But Minerva thinks it also makes them slightly uncomfortable, in a way they refuse to express to Alexandria.

“It’s fine.” Minerva replies, on rote. Her eyes flick to Alexandria, then back to the crowds. “What is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘what is it,’?”

“You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want something in particular.”

Alexandria’s mouth twists down, “Can I just get an answer without fishing for it, for once?”

Startled, Minerva looks at her again. Takes a better assessment of her daughter’s body language, the tension there. She knows she’s also gone tense.

Anger creeps into Alexandria’s voice, replacing the annoyance. “I’m not going to lose control. I’m not-“

She cuts herself off, abruptly looking away. Her fingers relax around the plastic cup, deliberately demonstrating that her strength won’t get away from her.

Minerva has a suspicion of how that sentence might have ended. I’m not like you and dad.

Reaching out physically feels like the wrong move here. So does stiffening up further and refusing to talk about it. Be better, she thinks to herself desperately, her mind flicking back to an image of a person with one foot in the water, one on dry land.

“We still… disagree, on some things. Some major things.” Minerva makes herself say. She still doesn’t like that Synovus kills people. She doesn’t like that Synovus has ostensibly killed for her, or for Alexandria. But she also feels relief that Synovus did, and a sense of gratitude she can’t quite smother. It makes her feel dirty, oily, and she hasn’t found it’s root.

Taking a breath, Minerva continues, “But… I don’t think they mean either of us harm.”

Alexandria has relaxed a little, absorbed by what Minerva’s saying. And probably having to pick through it for what she isn’t saying either.

“Would you say that you, I don’t know, maybe, trust them?” Alexandria prompts.

Minerva’s grimace is answer enough.

Alexandria sighs, “Mom.”

“It’s complicated, Alexandria.” She says, but it’s not the abrupt conversation-closer it would have once been. More… beseeching.

“Do you trust anyone?” Alexandria asks, “And like, I don’t even really mean me, here, but like. Anyone?”

Minerva remains silent.

“Do you trust yourself?” Alexandria asks, sounding a little alarmed.

Minerva hesitates - but she can’t really answer that one either.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, just the background roar of the mall’s crowds between them. Minerva hates this. She hates feeling like she can’t actually control herself, can’t master the emotional impulses she’s forcibly crammed into a box for years. She hates that Alexandria is having to pick up the conversation, make the overtures, do the work.

But any time she tries to think of a way to do it herself, her mind shies away from it. The words wilt and die in her throat. Because what if she gets it wrong?

What if she has more to lose?

Eventually, Alexandria looks at the melted remnants of her milkshake, and asks, “Can we stop at the Hot Topic before we leave.”

One day.

———————————

A week later, Rosie pokes her head into the common room Minerva’s reading in. “Minerva?”

She’d finally been asked point blank by one of them what she wanted to be called, because Athena no longer seemed accurate. Committing to Naiad hadn’t felt right either, so she’d given up her civilian name. Synovus already knew it, what was the point?

(It had occurred to her, later, that the small thrill she felt at being addressed by it was possibly what Alexandria felt at being addressed by her chosen name.)

(Also, it would’ve made Albion furious.)

“What is it?” Minerva asks now, letting one finger hold her place in the book as she sits up.

“There’s a fight drifting our way - Zephyr and a few others against the Eye. He’s made another floating platform again.” Rosie rolled her eyes, providing her professional opinion.

Minerva tilted her head, hesitating. Zephyr was a hero she’d worked with before, though they had never gotten along. He’d offered to take her flying, she’d taken that as flirting and shut it down, they’d never really overcome the resulting awkwardness. She had no idea who he’d be working with.

Eye, in contrast, was Eye in the Sky - a villain obsessed mostly with surveillance, and not being observed himself. He was a center point of several conspiracy theories involving the NRA, CIA, and a number of international organizations. She’d never fought him before, just heard the stories.

“What’s the protocol?” Minerva asks, rather than offer any of that information. She was certain this group of people knew far more about everyone involved anyway.

Rosie smiles, “Not much of one, just a lower alert status. Doll and I will make the rounds and check on everyone, Synovus is going to suit up just in case, but we won’t get involved unless territory agreements are breached.” She added, “Alexandria’s still on the mainland, we’ve made sure she knows to be suited if she makes her own way home.”

Minerva taps at the cover of her book, thinking. She feels adrift, still. This isn’t an actual fight, unless she wants to go and be Athena, and the idea of that is physically uncomfortable. It would also invite too many questions. Naiad would-

Hm. “Does Synovus want me in uniform?” She asks, sardonic.

“I didn’t ask and don’t plan to.” Rosie replies flippantly. “If they want you to do something, I imagine you’ll hear about it directly.”

Somehow, that isn’t the response she wants. “I don’t-“

“They also haven’t given any orders that you’re to be stopped.” Rosie points out, cutting her off. “The rest of us will be either in the operations room or up on the roof to watch. Klaxon if there’s trouble.”

She gave Minerva another smile, twiddled her fingers, and withdrew. Minerva shifted, and opened her book again.

She made it through two more paragraphs, then left it unceremoniously on the floor.

———————————-

On the roof, Synovus was pacing.

In a way, that’s reassuring, because even Minerva knew by now that if there was imminent danger, Synovus would be stock-still. The sun glints off the dark helmet, and threw the matte black of the rest of the suit into stark relief against the sandy-colored rooftop. Wind off the sea ripples through the cape, keeping it blown back, perpendicular to the path Synovus is walking.

The sun is kinder to Minerva’s costume, and there is no cape to blow. The dark mask helps keep her from being blinded by the sun. Athena wouldn’t be of much use here; Naiad might be.

Doll - the larger, Russian man who Minerva thought of as Synovus’s second in command - stood up here too, a viewfinder raised to cover his face. He’s looking into the direction of the wind, angled out and up, and Minerva follows that direction.

There it is - flashes of distant, shimmering silver in a cloud bank that’s thinning. Some masking device, most likely, now disabled. There’s tiny flashes of what must be powers or weaponry at use, but she can’t make out more than that.

“How bad is it?” She asks anyway, brisk and businesslike.

“The wind isn’t in our favor.” Doll comments. He’s always answered her as if she’s a coworker, and she appreciates that. “I can’t tell how much of it is powered and how much of it drifts. If there’s been damage to it -“ He lowers the viewfinder to make a hand gesture. “It might not be able to control its direction anymore.”

“Sloppy.” The comment is out of Minerva’s mouth before she can stop it. It draws Doll’s attention, if not Synovus’s. At the slightly raised eyebrow, she sighs and continues, “Disabling propulsion or navigation creates unnecessary risk to everyone involved. The only time it becomes necessary is when there’s weaponry that absolutely must be disabled, and you don’t have either the training or the time to sort out different power systems.”

Doll nods, offering her the viewfinder. “It could be self-inflicted,” he points out.

“Possible, but suicidal. That would require an exit strategy. Do you think Eye has one?”

“He’ll have three, only two of them will work, and none of them will be enough to keep him from getting captured.” Synovus breaks into the conversation abruptly, annoyed. Or perhaps professionally offended. “They’ll be personal craft.”

Meaning the rest of the platform’s crew would be left to die. Incentive for the heroes to try and rescue them rather than pursue, but what a waste.

The viewfinder lets Minerva get a better sense of the platform’s size, and also an estimate of its height and distance. She can make out a glimpse of a gray-shaded costume, diving through the clouds: Zephyr.

“If you interfere,” She asks, while her view is disconnected from her surroundings, “What would that look like?”

There’s a hesitation. A gust of wind snaps at Synovus’s cape. The distant battle continues.

“If they cross the boundaries, there must be consequences.” Synovus says reluctantly. “I will destroy the platform. Survivors will become my prisoners. If the heroes protest, I’ll fight them.”

Minerva lowers the viewfinder, and returns it to Doll. Synovus has stopped pacing. “You don’t have the facilities for a mass casualty event.”

“No.” Synovus agrees. “I don’t.”

————————————

Rosie has come out to join them on the roof by the time there’s significant change. The wind has died down some - likely a marker of Zephyr changing it, finally reaching their shores. The air feels thick and dead without it.

They’ve mostly stood in silence, watching. It feels longer than it has been, and Minerva knows it’ll be worse for those actually fighting. She’s surprised she hasn’t felt more of an urge to intervene.

Though she has been keeping watch for anyone falling to the water below.

It’s hard to say which of them notices first - their attention is collectively on the sky platform, and not each other. But there’s a decided tilt to the mostly-exposed metal monstrosity now, and in very short order, it begins to fall.

“Catch it.” Minerva finds herself murmuring. “Catch it. At least slow it-“

But no one does.

The platform hits the water at the full speed gained from a several thousand foot drop, slamming into the ocean. Those watching know that the metal will crumple on impact, water at that height and velocity worse than slamming into concrete. The surface area only makes it worse; tilted in at a slight angle, it displaces the water in a specific direction.

Towards the island.

Minerva had studied the ocean as much as she could. She knows this phenomena, and can cite times in the past it’s occurred. Not caused by the shifting of the ocean floor or tectonic plates, but by a sudden mass displacement.

They call it a super-tsunami.

Synovus is a statue beside her from the moment the platform starts to fall. Doll catches on once the surface of the water rises - and then doesn’t fall again.

“Three minutes.” Minerva calculates, based on distance and the probable speed of the wave. As many miles to cross. Much taller. “Evacuation?”

“The Jet is under repair, we can’t get it into the air in time.” Rosie answers, grim.

“Seals on the inner portions of the facility might hold, but we don’t know how long we’d be underwater.” Doll says, hitting the klaxon anyway. “The fridges?”

“Only as good as long as the power lasts.” Rosie replies. “Alexandria?”

“Still on the mainland.” Doll growls, running a hand through his hair. “Even if she could reach us in time, we’d have to get everyone onto the plane-“

Synovus has, so far, said nothing. Minerva is the only one close enough to catch when they choke out a strangled, “-fucking submarine -“

Minerva had expected Synovus to have a plan. A power, a strength, a defense mechanism. The realization that they don’t is like a fire’s been lit at the base of her spine.

She doesn’t remember grabbing Synovus’s collar, or dragging them to face her. She does remember saying, “I can stop it.”

Synovus doesn’t hesitate. “What do you need?”

There is no questioning of if she’s sure, or recommendation that she go into the waves to ride it out. No suggestion of running.

“Get me in front of it.”

Immediately, Synovus has one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and they’re running. Off the edge of the roof, not quite flying, flickers of shadow beneath their feet. Minerva doesn’t have time to question it, because her attention is on the big damn wave.

When she had said she could stop it, she had spoken with a bone-deep certainty. But she’d never actually tried to divert a tsunami before, let alone one of this size. The largest amount of water she’s worked with has always been as much as she needs to accomplish her goal, and nothing more. Diverting some rain-induced flooding is nothing compared to the power of the tides.

But she can feel the ocean beneath them, as Synovus clears the island’s coast. She can sense the oncoming wave, so fast to them, but to the ocean like a flinch in slow motion. The ocean doesn’t know how to control a fall.

But Minerva does.

The trick is in grasping the majority of the wave without over extending. She doesn’t need every droplet, every molecule, but she does need the vast majority of them.

It’s like trying to get a grip on something flat with only the pads of her fingers. It’s like misjudging a stair and finding herself both plummeting and ramming into an outside force. It’s like taking the first breath of rain-rich air in the early morning, and feeling life enter her lungs again.

Minerva twists the top back over itself, breaking the wave in the wrong direction. She cuts it down the middle, diverting it off to the sides. She forbids it to go forward, as though it’s met a cliff. And as the water falls, the wave collapsing, so does she.

It takes a brief second to put together that the body that had been holding her aloft is now limp, twisted slightly as though to put itself between her and the wave. Synovus is unresponsive, the shadows gone, only the cape whipping around them as they fall. Minerva is able to catch them, now, grabbing on before they can drift away.

She reaches for the water below them, calling it up to catch them with less than bone-breaking force. It’s easier, somehow, but also harder, and she’s having trouble fixing a direction in her mind for where the wave was and where the shore should be. Hot air, harsh wind, cool water and the dimming depths as they’re both drawn down.

And she remembers, finally, that Synovus can’t swim.

—————

The disorientation has mostly worn off by the time Synovus wakes up.

Minerva had managed to follow the upset currents, but hadn’t wanted to risk trying to shape and change them. Or to fight them overmuch, with her cargo. So they’d wound up washed not to shore, but to a small opening into one of the partial lava tubes at the island’s base.

Outside, saltwater rain is still falling, though it will stop soon. The ocean’s roar sounds, to her ears, slightly confused. The sun is still shining, and the wind has picked up again. ‘Calm’ is a subjective definition, but they’re approaching it.

Minerva had been relieved to find that Synovus’s helmet was intact, even with the impact to the water. She’d managed to find its clasps, and to remove it, making sure the seals had also held and that Synovus wasn’t drowning in their own personal fishbowl. They’re propped up against her legs, which are folded beneath her, and she’s prepared for a violent awakening.

But Synovus’s eyes blink open, and Minerva is able to watch their facial muscles work as they come to terms with their surroundings.

“You fainted.” Minerva informs them.

Synovus squints at her, but doesn’t immediately protest. They also don’t try to move much, other than a slight squirm that Minerva recognizes as a full body check. Do I still have my appendages? Do my fingers and toes all work?

“Yeah.” Synovus concedes. Their voice is raspy with saltwater, even though they didn’t get much of a chance to drown. This time.

Minerva should probably start somewhere else - like making certain they’re okay, or assuring them about the conditions outside, that the wave had been averted. Instead, she all but demands, “If you’re so terrified of water, why in the hells did you build on an island?”

She can see the balk in Synovus’s expression: a furrowing of their brow, a twitch of the nose. Synovus lifts a hand to consider covering their face, eyes the sand on their glove, and lowers it again.

“I already know you can’t swim.” Minerva says flatly.

“I can swim.” Synovus shoots back, annoyed. “I cannot swim well, there’s a difference.”

They sigh, and move to sit up. Minerva doesn’t stop them. She doesn’t expect an answer, at least not without further prompting, but Synovus continues:

“It’s… easier. The isolation. Clearly defined borders. This is mine, everyone else fuck off. And it…” Synovus shakes their head. “It serves its purpose.”

Once, Minerva would’ve accused them of grandstanding. Of the island being a show of wealth and status. She knows better now - knows that while that is true, there’s other reasons, layered beneath.

And she thinks about everything Synovus has ever told her about self control.

“It contains you.”

Synovus hesitates, partially grimacing, but nods. “Serves its purpose.” They repeat quietly.

The two of them sit in silence, in the dark shadow of the cave. They listen to the water, and the waves as they return to normal.

“Thank you.” Synovus says, into the silence.

“I don’t require thanks.”

“But I feel you deserve it, and it’s mine to give.”

“And if I don’t want it?”

“Refuse it. I will survive the disappointment.”

Minerva has the uncomfortable feeling that they are not discussing only gratitude. Rather than address that, or continue the discussion, she says instead: “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Synovus doesn’t reply. They tilt their head, studying her in the dark. Minerva’s dragged them into a cave and confronted them with truths after they passed out from fear doing something on her word, she should give them a break. She doesn’t.

“I should be out there looking for survivors, or recovering the dead. I don’t want to. I should’ve involved myself in the fight, reminded them to be careful of the platform’s vulnerabilities. I didn’t. I don’t feel guilt. I feel… annoyed. Angry. Because they should’ve known better.”

Synovus just turns a bit, to rest their back against a rock. “And that in turn makes you feel..?”

“Foolish. Arrogant. A bad hero, and a worse teacher. I should be patient. Forgiving.”

“They nearly killed you.” Synovus points out dryly. “You’re allowed to be angry about that.”

“And more would’ve died if the wave had reached the coast.” Minerva grits her teeth. “But that anger should be - I can’t control them. I cannot fix them. But I didn’t even try to intervene until it was almost too late.”

“But you did intervene.”

Minerva gestures, attempts to pinpoint the logic fruitless and frustrated. “Am I a hero or not?” She demands. “Do I act for others or only my own skin? I’ve spent years - decades - so sure of the answer but now -“

She raises her hands, half-fisting them in her hair. The sensation provides a little bit of grounding, enough of a distraction she doesn’t think about the words before she says them. “- now you make sense to me, and the things I thought I believed in enough to die for are - are hollow or gone or dead. And I let you kill them. I let you kill him.”

Abruptly, she draws her knees up, burying her face in them. “I let - I made - my child - our child -“

Minerva can’t tell if she’s crying or not. Her breath is coming in gasps, and her face feels hot, and this was always the part of weeping that she hated the most; the lack of control, the inability to communicate. Her eyes burn. So does the center of her chest, her stomach.

And Synovus is here, as her witness. Why not? They’ve seen every other ugly part of her, every other failure. She’s spent a good portion of her adult life fighting this person, exchanging scars, only for them to pick up the pieces and try to protect her. She’s finally had the upper hand, proven that she does have power, that Synovus now owes her in the brutal calculus of lives, and instead of reassuring her it’s broken her.

Because Synovus doesn’t trust themself either.

But Synovus trusts her.

“Do you wish I wouldn’t have killed Albion?” Synovus asks quietly.

The answer is as simple and certain as the water. “No.” She says honestly. “No I - I don’t.”

There’s a pause. Then, “Do you wish I would’ve killed you too?”

That answer isn’t as clear to find. “I - some days.” She says hoarsely. “I committed the same crimes.”

Synovus exhales, across from her, and it isn’t quite a sigh. “Alexandria feels differently.”

Minerva stops breathing.

Of all the answers Synovus could’ve given, that’s the one she can’t counter. She can’t afford to do this. To wallow in self recrimination. Her daughter is out there. And while maybe - maybe her morals are falling to pieces, and she doesn’t know who she is, but she knows that whoever she is loves Alexandria.

“Is it pathetic?” She asks Synovus, in the dark she can’t see through and Synovus can. “To need someone else to determine who I am. What I believe.”

She can hear the twist in Synovus’s expression as they reply, “That’s… inherently not a question I can answer. But, Minerva?” Synovus doesn’t hesitate, so much as pick their way across uncertain footing, “I don’t think you would’ve been able to turn back that wave if you weren’t… as much as you are.”

It’s clumsily phrased. Wavering and uncertain. But Minerva, whether because she’s reading what she wants to from it, or because it’s actually Synovus’s intention, understands.

She takes a deep breath. Then another. Then she stands, and offers a hand in Synovus’s general direction. Her voice is much more certain, calm, when she says, “I need to go organize a search party.”

——————

Minerva may not ever come to terms with her role in her ex-husband’s death, or the harm she caused her daughter. She might not ever find the rock-solid beliefs that she once thought she had.

But she might - just might - come to terms with that uncertainty. The ocean doesn’t have roots either.

She’ll have good days and bad days. She’ll need to make decisions about who she wants to become, and how she feels about who she is. But as both Naiad, and Minerva, she has that freedom.

She’ll never touch the Athena costume again.

And one day, while she’s working on a laptop in one of the common rooms, Synovus on one of the other couches and Alexandria sprawled on the floor, Minerva will say, “I have an idea. Something I’d like to do about the Pacific garbage patch.”

And Alexandria will roll over to look at her, and Synovus will glance up. And Minerva will add, “It’s not precisely legal.”

And Synovus will say, “I’m listening.”

——————————

[And so ends Siren Call! This took much longer than it’s other pieces, and there were things I debated including and things I wanted to cut, but in the end, this was the flow the story took. I’m not saying I’m *done* with Synovus and co, but I will say that I’m glad to have this chapter closed and tied off.]

[As per usual, a copy of this will go up on Ao3 soon, and I’ll find out how long it is, because I’ve once again written directly into tumblr drafts. It’s where the Synovus muse lives, apparently.]

[jpitha]

Curiosity

Captain Benimen grabbed the arms of his chair tightly as the gravity struggled to keep up with the twirling and twisting, the ducking and juking his ship was doing to try and avoid the missiles, energy weapons, and slugs being thrown at them.

"Stupid humans! Why did I even agree to this?" He shouts, as a rippling thump runs along the spine of his ship and makes the deck plates rattle.

"To be fair Captain Benimen, we're not the ones shooting." Keli, one of the human engineers brought over by HIDA and the Coalition was also gripping the bottom of her fold-out chair tightly. Human ships have belts in the seats to keep you in place during high maneuvers; there is no such luxury on the Sefigan's ship. "You aren't going to return fire?"

She had a point. It wasn't human pirates that were attacking his ship and attempting to disable his newly installed Flipwarp drive, still he was never one to stop when he had a good rant going.

"It doesn't matter! The moment you show up, trouble follows close behind. Besides, we can't return fire, we have no weapons. Sensors!" he barked, "Who are these pirates anyway?"

The officer at the sensor suite station is barely holding on as the ship bucks and moves. The screen is vibrating so much they can barely read it. "Uh, it might be Whitetail, Captain. It's tough to tell while we're dodging them."

"Whitetail?! What are they doing way out here?" Captain Benimen starts gesturing with his hands as he's yelling, but a bump causes him to lift out of his seat and he scrambles to grab the arms again. "I don't care who it is, Flipwarp us out of here, we'll outrun them." He turns to Keli "Your upgrade had better work."

"Flipping now, Captain" Helm reports, and the ship is suddenly encased in the prismatic field of their new Flipwarp drive and the shaking stops.

Benimen nods to himself and his fur lowers. "Good. Now that that's settled, we can figure out-" Another series of heavy thumps is felt through the deck. There's a puff of atmosphere, and they can all hear the muffled cries of an alarm and the pressure doors slamming shut through the ship. "Ancestors! What was that?"

"Sir! It appears that Whitetail followed our Flipwarp signal and is giving chase. They're behind us!" The sensor suite officer's voice is tinged with panic.

Automatically Benimen looked behind. All he could see was the rear of the Command Deck, and he swore softly. Turning back to the screen in the front, he could see the outline of another ship behind them, also encased in a prismatic field soaring through Flipspace. "How are they doing that? How can they track us?" He turned to Keli. "Do you know?"

Keli looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment. As she did, she blinked and stared at the lights. "That's not right..." Looking around, she strode over to the wall behind the captain and ran her hand along a seam. She followed it to the door out of Command. "What the..." She stood up and walked over to the helm station. "Can I check something out for a moment please?"

"O-of course, go ahead." The officer stood, and Keli sat, wincing at the chair made for smaller and more cushioned bodies. She started tapping at the panels.

"Ancestors..." she tapped, frowned, tapped some more. There was a sound like someone banging pots and pans under water.

"They're still firing." The sensor officer replied, glancing up at Captain Benimen, their eyes flicking between him and Keli.

"Keli? Anything you'd wish to share with us during our last few moments alive?" Even in the middle of the battle Captain Benimen made time for sarcasm.

Keli waved him off and touched something near her ear. "Greg, come up to Command, you need to see this."

A few seconds later, a human walked in, wearing an armored pressure suit. The command crew swiveled to look as he clanged in and they all looked worried. Greg lifted his helmet. "Some of the ship is in vacuum, that's why I'm in the suit. The Fire teams are working on securing the area and making safe passage from aft to fore." He walked over to Keli. "What's wrong?"

"Look at this, can you see the lockout here? Keli pointed at something on the back of the station. "Look here too, I think this was added later." She ducked under the station and swore. "This was retrofitted! Captain, who did you buy this ship from?"

"Er, it was my Father's ship, and before that, his Uncle's." Captain Benimen's claws slid in and out of their sheaths in irritation. "It's been in our family for more than one hundred solar years. Why does this matter? We're being shot at, if you have forgotten."

"It matters, Captain, because you seem to have a ship made out of another ship." She pointed up. "Greg, look up, what do you see?"

It was difficult to look up in a pressure suit. Greg had to lean back and crane his neck. Almost as soon as he did he said "Those aren't Sefigan lights."

"Exactly! Check out the rear panel behind the Captain too. That's not made of vremnian, it's a different alloy. I'd bet thirty stars that it's polychroma."

Greg smiled. "I'll take your word for it Keli. It's interesting, but I don't see how this will help us."

Keli gestured with her hands and opened her mouth and closed it once or twice. She was having trouble with her words. "This means that it's not a Sef ship, they bought it and retrofitted it centuries ago. They would have most likely bought it from the Draeden."

"I'll take your word for it, Keli, starship history is your hobby, not mine."

"No no! The Draeden were notorious for arming everything. They were more paranoid than we were! So if we can find where they dummied out the old systems and shunt some power to them..."

"Then we can reactivate the Draeden weapons? Keli that's insane. If they're still here, they're under tons of hull and even if they were exposed they haven't been powered in a couple of centuries."

Keli crossed her arms. Another brace of shots punctuated her pose. "So you'd rather get disabled, boarded and killed - if we're lucky?"

Greg sighed. He bent over and with a thrumming woosh, his suit opened like a flower and he stepped out. "What do I need to do?"

She pointed over towards sensors. "Check that wall, look for hatches, panels, anything. She tapped the comm on her wrist and clinked it against Greg's head. "Here's an update to your translator overlay, you should be able to read Draeden; they're old enough they didn't speak Belanic."

While Greg searches, Keli returns to the helm station and crawled underneath. Captain Benimen could only watch as she started ripping fistfulls of wire out from under the station, and the acrid smell of burning insulation filled the deck.

"Keli! Cease this at once! Stop trying to destroy my ship!"

She slid out from underneath and threw a card at him. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm in command now." And then went back under the helm station and ripped more wires.

Captain Benamin read the card. In no uncertain terms it told him that Keli had the full backing of the Coalition to do anything and everything to continue her mission - including taking command. On the back was the sigil and signatures of all ten administrators. He held the card as if it would burn him, and sat, defeated.

Suddenly as Keli was ripping wires, there was an alarm that sounded on the deck. It was... different. The crew hadn't heard this one before. It sounded older, more crackly, more warbling.

And the voice wasn't speaking Belanic.

"Got it!" Keli sat up in triumph, and her finger started dancing over the screens. "Greg, did you find it yet?"

"Find what, I've been tapping an- oh!" As he was talking, Greg heard the tone of the panel change. He pushed hard, and it popped open, sliding back on very old gas shocks. Inside were two very large levers, caked in dust and grease. Above them was a sign written in the dotted slashed text of ancient Draeden. As Greg focused on it, his overlay translated the text. 'Manual Override.' "Keli, I found some levers marked Manual Override."

"Yes! Those are the ones. When I say, pull them out, twist the handles 180 and push them back, hard. I'm doing to drop us out of Flipwarp in three... two...now"

With an uncharacteristic shudder, the ship fell out of Flip space and was in regular space again. A moment later the Whitetail ship appeared next to them, and began to fire.

"Now Greg!"

Greg heaved on the levers and they came out of the panel with a heavy clang. He turned the wide handles on the end 180 degrees and bending down, pushed them back into the cabinet until they clacked home.

As he finished, the ancient alarm changed. It went from a high warbling tone to a faster, more insistent tone. A voice in a calm, authoritative voice said something and after a moment repeated it. Another beat, and the ever present noise of the ship, the HVAC, the reactors, everything went silent. Even the gravity turned off, and everyone started to rise from their seat awkwardly.

Benimen began to spin slowly in the air. "I swear on the dust of my ancestors human, if you have broken my ship I will-" he started, but then Keli glared at him. Some very ancient part of his brain reacted to her predatory glare and he stopped. Sefigans were omnivores on their original world, but they tended to be opportunistic. They didn't hunt unless that was the only option. His ancient brain knew what a hunter looked like and knew he shouldn't antagonize one.

After three heartbeats, there was a series of sharp clangs running the length of the ship, starting in the front and headed aft. Following that, the noise of the ship started to return, but the reactor sounded different, angrier. The gravity turned on and everyone fell back into their seats. Benimen landed hard on his bottom.

"Captain! We're..." Sensors looked at their screens and boggled. "Captain, we're splitting off from our ship."

"We're what?" He stood up and ran over to the sensor officer. Sure enough, what looked like the cargo bay, the rear maintenance garage and the hangar was floating away. Luckily the crew quarters, the reactor and the front portion of the ship was still intact. They didn't loose anyone when the ship peeled away.

Keli looked over and pointed. "Greg!"

Greg turned and next to the panel where the manual override levers were, another panel spun around. This had a series of screens and levers, all slightly grimy. He concentrated on the text and his overlay translated.

"Weapons suite."

****

"Pow! Zap! Just like that! I would not have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it, but luckily for you, I was." Benimen nodded to himself and took another sip of his drink.

The bartender made a face. "So you're telling us that your creaky old cargo ship that you got from your father was secretly a Draeden-"

"-a group we hadn't heard anything from in nigh on four centuries." the Innari next to Benimen helpfully added.

"Yes thank you Ki. Your ship was decretly a Draeden frigate this whole time, and you never figured it out?"

"Well, I got the ship from my Da, right? He showed me how to work it and that was that. I never dug into it because I didn't need to. I hauled cargo, and it did that well." Benimen's excitement was diminished with the words from the bartender. He did have a point after all.

"But Beni, you didn't even have the curiosity to learn about your own ship?"

"Dammit Rai what do you want me to say? That I was an idiot and never learned more about my ship and it's history? Why would I do that. Why would I learn about the history of a spanner, or a welder, or a compensator?"

"Because sometimes, you learn interesting things." Keli said, walking into the bar. She was dressed in the sharply tailored black uniforms of HIDA now instead of her grubby coveralls. Her long hair was tied back into a simple ponytail and she was grinning. "Benimen, I was coming by to say thank you for letting me take control, and to apologize for breaking your cargo ship."

The Rai and Ki stared at Keli in shock, and then turned to Benimen "You were telling the truth?" they said in unison.

Benimen grunted and took another sip of his drink. "Course I was."

"Captain Benimen, on behalf of HIDA, I am offering you recompense in the form of three hundred thousand stars. That should be suitable to repair and refit your ship, yes?" She handed him a pad and sure enough, he was now three hundred thousand stars richer. The sigil of the Coalition was at the bottom of the document, certifying it as genuine.

He slid off his barstool and stood before Keli. "Keli - I should say, Agent Keli, I thank you for this." He saluted sharply, Sefigan style, with both his paws across his chest with his claws extended. Keli returned the salute, human style. Business concluded, she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Agent, Keli?" Benimen called after her.

She turned. "Keli is fine, Captain."

His ears waggled. "Then you have earned the right to use my family name. Call me Hamin. I am wondering though... I've heard that HIDA hires non-humans. Do you have a need for a captain who has recently come into a frigate and some money that could be used to fit it out?"

Keli stood with her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down. "Well Hamin. That all depends. Why don't you come with me, and we'll see what's what."