#he looks like..a duck (derogatory)

[0l-unreliable]

an older Dirk sketch. I couldn't nail down the design so i gave up

[puckpocketed]

re; zegras trade rumours for all you girlies panicking (and because i have no time to do my usual write-ups)

reading the room on the guy who floated the idea: he should not be taken seriously, and is not being taken seriously by most on twitter

ducks-wise: the drysdale trade for gauthier was explicitly explained as an effort to bolster scoring. zegras is top 2 playmaker along with carlsson, and has made considerable strides in his efforts off the puck post-benching.

he’s shown that he is willing to change and is following through with it (imo why his stats have looked a little lopsided, besides injury), but the rest of the team — and i’m sorry to say this if you love them but i mean it with respect — do not have it in them to finish on the chances he gives them.

what verbeek was cooking with this trade:

1) let go of some of the defensemen surplus that the ducks have (lot of good prospects upcoming, and minty is on fire rn)

2) get a guy who has a lethal shot so the ducks playmakers can actually do something

tl;dr the drysdale-gauthier trade was 100% for zegras to have a guy to pass the puck to, and zegras is solidifying himself as a coachable player with some depth. no reason to trade him — unless it’s for something really fucking huge.

[marc--chilton]

i watched migration and i can not stop thinking about this frame of this parrot. i do not like his design but i really vibed with his energy here

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold. 

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together. 

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking. 

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving. 

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.” 

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served. 

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.” 

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.” 

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist. 

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end. 

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips. 

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-” 

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting. 

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

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Forever tag list

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Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Lucifer

For Him:

He loves it when you call him anything super cheesy. Add some heart and soul to it, and he is obsessed.

Call him cringy things like Stud Muffin, Sugar Bear, and Honey Pie. He is so into it.

He will 100% melt if you call him princess. His kryptonite is you two lounging in bed playing with his hair while you call him your sweet boy or princess.

His hard no's are anything super vulgar that borderline comes off as sexual.

He wants to keep your relationship sweet and adoring until you get to bed.

For You:

He immediately goes for Duck, Ducky, or Duckling. He just can't help it. You remind him of his second favorite thing.

If he gets out of his ducky phase, which, let's face it, he won't. He likes to use names like Doll, Buttercup, and Baby.

He loves to call you his Queen or King just because he wants you to know how serious he is about sharing everything with you.

He won't call you princess; he has reserved that for Charlie, and he would really hate for a 'pass the salt' moment between you and his kid.

He can't wait for the day he gets to call you mommy or daddy, though, in a nonsexual way.

Adam

For Him:

Adam LOVES when you call him God. As blasphemes as it is, it fuels his ego to the extreme.

He also likes the classic babe, baby, and honey. However, he wouldn't mind a private, memorable name.

He doesn't like to be overly gushy in public, so in private, you can get away with calling him something snuggly, like Teddy Bear or Honey Muffin.

A hard no for him is anything derogatory; as funny as it is, since he is the king of derogatory remarks, he doesn't know how to take the heat back.

He is a certified Lover Boy and will melt if you call him so, well, only if no one else is around.

For You:

Of course, we got the classic Adam phrases we all know and love Bitch, Baby Cakes, Sugar tits, and Baby.

However, he is unafraid to publicly call you things like his treasure, angel, or princess.

He will 100% call you a simp and Lover in the same sentence to throw you off guard.

He wont call you anything derogatory in the bed room though unless you ask for it, he feels like your alone time in the bed room is meant for him to worship you not hurt you.

He loves it when you let him call you his goddess and other high-paying names.

Vox

For Him:

He is an old timey classics guy, he is in love with Baby, Honey, and Sugar like no other.

When it is just you two alone he never wants to hear his legal government name leave your mouth

As for in public its a little odd because he does have a persona but also just look at you your his everything

He hates anything overly sweet it is very gross to him when you drop a BooBooBear or a Hunk-A-Lunk just say normal shit

He loves when you call him the light of your life though makes him feel like he is doing good by you

For You:

He wants to keep the old-timey feel for you, too, but he may get a little creative. It's casual, babe, baby, and honey, but he may add in a pumpkin cupcake or princess.

He has no problem using pet names for you 24/7, even in the public eye. He has to show who owns you, after all.

When you are alone, he will use just a simple babe to get your attention because he wants to be soft and mundane with you.

He won't call you any crazy names, either. He finds them distasteful, but if you asked, he may find it in his heart to cave in.

Thrives when you call him daddy as much as when you let him call you mommy.

Husk

For Him:

Certified Daddy Energy. Call him Daddy or Papi, and he melts like putty in your hands.

He also loves it when you call him other things, like baby or babe; those are classics that keep him going.

He doesn't mind the overly cringe-worthy nicknames that are long for no reason. Generally, the longer, the better because it eventually makes him laugh.

He refuses to be called anything relating to a cat, no whiskers, kitten, or kitty. He hears it from Al but wants to avoid hearing it from you.

If you call him something super sentimental, like the love of my life or my other half, he is a weak man.

For You:

He worships you and the ground you walk on because he believes you deserve so much better and will leave.

You are God, Goddess, Princess, Prince, King, Queen, or any high official title to make you feel good.

He loves hitting you with super sentimental pet names that show how much he cares about you.

He won't call you anything super mushy; it just isn't him. Though he likes how creative you get, he isn't much for it.

He loves calling you mommas or mommy when you two are out and about.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #27

Mammon: How many swords do you have?

Diavolo: Sword of a lot

Raphael: Blocked

Diavolo: Parried

•

Mammon: My pockets jingle with stolen buttons from hot topic

Mammon: I literally can’t stop stealing those buttons from the Button Vats like I don’t feel like paying 3 dollars for a piece of tin with Pusheen on it but I do feel like doing a heist

Mammon: Call the cops bitch I’ll have sex with them

Simeon: This feels like the kind of thing you overhear when the person next to you on the bus is having a heated phone call

•

Belphegor: Wasn’t ICarly that guy with wax wings who flew into the sun and fucking got rest because same

Belphegor: I just realized my phone corrected Icarus to ICarly because I type ICarly more than Icarus okay thanks

Mammon: I thought this was just a god tier shit post

•

Thirteen: Bro pick up your eboy he’s curled up in the corner of my living room quivering, speaking in tongues, and surrounded by an impenetrable wall of writhing lamb’s entrails

MC: That’s not my eboy that’s my malewife they’re supposed to do that

Thirteen: Stop being funnier than me or I’ll do something about

•

Belphegor: People like to claim you can’t be funny without being offensive but my twin once looked at a packet of tesco’s chicken and said “60% chicken? I like those odds.” And I’m still laughing sixteen years later

•

Mammon: How fucked up would it be if you jumped into a ball pit and it was just tomatoes painted different colors

Beelzebub: Depends

Mammon: …On what?

•

Satan: Amazing how a colon can completely change the meaning of a sentence. For example:

— Jane ate her friend’s Sandwich

— Jane ate her friend’s Colon

Leviathan: This is the hardest I’ve ever snorted. My nose/throat actually hurts a little now

•

Mephistopheles: There are breasts on my roof. Scampering about. Wretched.

Diavolo: Th—There are what

Mephistopheles: BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS BEASTS

•

MC: A knife block that screams when you put knives in it

Lucifer: A human

Barbatos: So a human

Solomon: Caesar

•

Solomon: Diamonds are carbon. People are carbon. I wonder how big a Diamond I could make out of one

Simeon: I think about your tumblr blog a lot. I think about the fact anyone can say anything on the open internet and I’m glad you are able to voice whatever is in your head

Solomon: Thanks

•

MC: Weatherboy (derogatory)

Diavolo: Op what does this mean

MC: Wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy

•

Asmodeus: Everyone wants me. Especially this guy chasing me with a knife

•

Mephistopheles: Fill your body with cranberries so the horse that kills you gets a sensual surprise

Barbatos: I will give the horse that kills me no such luxury

•

Mammon: *gets home*

*breaks knuckles* time to shit myself to sleep again boys

Mammon: Wait no it’s cracks knuckles

Mammon: Wait no it’s cry myself to sleep

Mammon: Don’t reblog this stop it

•

Asmodeus: Fun new blog title: “welcome to my twisted pussy”

Solomon: Ducks be like

Asmodeus: This is no longer a fun new blog title

•

Leviathan: I hope everyone is having a fucking day

Lucifer: Easily one of the days I’ve had this week

Last • Next

[callmerainman]

No Derogatory Nicknames | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

plot. You're the one and only member of the Royal Family's official army, and you were given the first, vital mission in your lifetime as a bodyguard. Surveilling the First Man on Earth, Adam. Reincarnated in Hell. You and Adam agree on two things: you can't stand each other, and you would never sleep together.

word count. 3.3k

tags. Hazbin Hotel ep8 spoilers!, enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnated as a sinner in Hell.

tw! cursing, Adam being Adam, mentions of sex

part. 1/3

The Royal Family’s official army was a millennium-old institution, skillfully trained through the years to protect Lucifer’s family from potential threats. Except that the army has lost its prestige a long time ago, and you’re the last unit left. You joined the army a short time after your death. It was princess Charlie Morningstar who guided you towards that decision, after finding you lost and scared, wandering around Pentagram City. The infernal princess didn’t specify that the army was dismantled hundreds of year prior, and that it was just an excuse to convince Lucifer to give you hospitality in one of their mansion’s rooms. In the end, the King accepted to make you a bodyguard. You went through trainings, trials, impossible challenges. All of that to…guard Lucifer’s rubber ducks. Boredom wasn’t ignorable. So when Lucifer asked you if you could take on a really serious mission, you accepted immediately. And your task really was important.

Guarding Adam, the First Man on Earth. Reincarnated in Hell.

After wandering for days around Pentagram City, just like you did, he asked the Hotel for help. E promised that he would change. Charlie, being Charlie, couldn’t deny him a chance. But Lucifer didn’t trust him, and accepted his permanence at the Hotel only at the condition that you would be guarding him. And that’s how you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, how you met Charlie’s friend and especially…Adam. You immediately regretted the rubber ducks. Adam accepted in turn the idea of being watched, but he detested it and didn’t hesitate to let you know. He was as old as the Earth but as immature as if he was born yesterday. Arrogant, hot-headed, presumptuous. He made your job impossible, but he was clever enough to not show it too much to still stay at the Hotel. You were the opposite of patient and dealing with him was troubling. Talking back to him corresponded to a reaction. For example he never spared himself from letting you know how much he did NOT want to sleep with you, because of how much he found you insufferable.

“I have other priorities, instead of being approached by your teeny-tiny thing” you said.

“Hey! You can only dream of having a taste of the original dick!” Adam said, pointing a finger to your face.

And Adam hated when you followed him around town, with your angelic spear always clenched in your fist. He would always mumble insults under his breath, to which you responded with the same medicine. For example when you accompanied him to the few music shops in the city to fix his electric guitar that he would always break out of frustration of being here.

“I’m here only because Lucifer asked me, ‘cause otherwise I would have already called Nifty to repeat the job” you hissed between your teeth, sticking your spear towards his face.

Adam would hunch forward in an attempt to intimidate you “Oh yeah, go get her, so you can show your Hell Daddy how efficient of a bodyguard you are!”.

And you couldn’t do nothing more than sighing, squeezing the spear in your fist because you knew that Adam was right and you couldn’t do anything about it. You always looked forward to nighttime so that you two could separate and go to your respective rooms in the Hotel. Even the guests were relieved, because your bickering was daily and their ears were filled with your insults thrown left and right. Adam, although he was the one who knocked on the Hotel’s door, wasn’t too fond on participating in its activities. He didn’t get the benefit of Charlie’s exercises, and that anguished him because it seemed like the road back to Heaven was far away. Even there, your duty was to encourage him in participating. And your patience with the First Man was running out, so you had to do so by growling between your teeth to be proactive.

“I get it, bitch” he would whisper, enough to be heard from you but not by Charlie. And then he would improvise some sort of low effort answer barely sufficient to make Charlie happy.

You started to get the feeling that some of Charlie’s exercises were specifically aimed at making you and Adam get along. You had your confirmation when once Charlie called only you and Adam, letting you sit together on the couch. Adam’s fists were clenching in correspondence with his knees.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

You crossed your arms on your chest, cocking an eyebrow. Charlie laughed nervously, feeling a growing tension.

“Uhm…see this as a sort of…couple therapy!”

You and Adam, in tandem, erupted in a disgusted groan. His new wings, now turned black, ruffled and pointed upwards in a synced motion with yours.

“WE’RE NOT A COUPLE!” you two shouted in unison.

“I know, but you’re always together and…”

“WE DIDN’T CHOOSE IT!”

Charlie agitated both her hands “But you need to stand by each other, and I would like for you to do so without fighting every time! There must be something you get along in, right?”

You protruded forward “The only thing we agree on is that we would much rather die for eternity than being close to each other”.

Adam raised his arms to emphasize your words “Exactly, I would rather be stabbed again by your filthy janitor than sleep with a pain in the ass like her”

“What did you just say?!”.

Charlie, seeing you two jump towards each other to fight, threw herself between you both to avoid it.

You couldn’t sleep that night. With your head plunged in your pillow, you smothered screams of frustration. Adam, Adam and again Adam. He fluttered in your head with hammering insistence, tormenting you even in moments of relax. Why was he always traveling in your head? Why did you keep visualizing his dumb fucking face when he insulted you in the most disparate ways? Fuck, he knew how to get on your nerves even in dreams.

———

“Adam!” Charlie stops the fallen angel in the Hotel kitchen. He was filling his bowl with milk and cereals.

“Yeah, brat?” he replied.

Charlie sighed “What did we say about nicknames?”

Adam rolls his eyes, bringing a spoonful of cereals to his mouth.

“No ferogafory nifnames” he slurs, his cheeks full.

“Exactly!” Charlie claps her hands “anyway, I need you to do me a favor. You should go grocery shopping for the Hotel”.

Adam raises a brow “Groceries? What am I, a-“

He interrupts himself when his eyes meet yours behind Charlie’s shoulder. Where did you come from? In any case, your gaze is as furious as always. He’s pretty sure that he never saw you peaceful in all his permanence in Hell. Your fuming look is enough to make him desist, so he sighs.

“Alright. And I suppose that Mrs. Spear-Up-My-Ass is going to come with me”.

“Of course (Y/N) will go with you, you’ll shop together” and Charlie adds a hopeful grin.

“How fortun-OH”.

Without noticing, you appear on Adam’s side, a reassuring look on your face but reserved only to Charlie.

“Don’t worry Charlie, I’ll keep an eye on him”.

“Can you not stick your shitty angelic spear in my fucking cereals?!” Adam cusses.

Nervously, Charlie smiles “Of course (Y/N), but I’m pretty positive that Adam won’t cause any trouble”.

You shrug your shoulders “I dunno, I don’t expect much from a dirtbag of his caliber”.

Adam drops the spoon in the bowl of milk, cereals spilling out of it and one of them hitting your cheek

“What, you old hag?!” he screams.

“Old, me?! You’re literally as old as the Earth!”

Charlie puts her hands in her head, desperate “Just go shopping for fucks sake!”.

Half an hour later you and Adam are walking down the streets of Pentagam City. He was bragging about the time he broke the record of bras thrown on stage during a gig he performed in Heaven. Now that you think about it, Adam played in a band when he was up in the skies. And he has an electric guitar that you always accompanied him to fix. By the way, you never stopped to ask yourself what kind of music he listened to, or what genre he played. That’s because you never thought there was something worth to know about Adam. You turn around to look at him in the eyes. When he talked nonstop, without insulting you, his face was more relaxed and in a certain sense a bit more pleasurable to look at. Two big, curled horns sprouted on his head when he reincarnated, you grabbed them so many times while fighting.

“And what did you play with your band-“

“We’re here”.

You stop. You look at Adam, you didn’t realize that you reached your destination. Maybe you’ll pick up the conversation later, maybe not. Why would you want to know more about the Exterminator? You shove a hand in your pants pocket and you take the list Charlie prepared. You put it in Adam’s hand, and you turn around.

“C’mon, go inside”.

Adam frowns, puzzled.

“Wait, you’re not going with me?”.

Adam plants himself in front of you, trying to read your face. He wants to know if you’re making fun of him or something like that. But he only finds embarrassment, as you try to avoid his analysis.

“Do you need me to hold your hand or you can handle it on your own?”.

For a second, Adam’s eyes widen, then a sly smirk crosses his face.

“You wanna hold my haaaa-“

“No” you stop him “and that’s why I’m telling you to go alone”.

Adam shrugs, he looks amused.

“Okay, I’ll treasure this opportunity to get away as far as I can from you”.

And so Adam goes. You realize that all the time you tried to avoid his eyes, your face was burning. You didn’t want him to see even a drop of trust in your eyes, not even the tiniest amount sufficient to let him go grocery shopping. So you stay still outside the supermarket, your angelic spear hidden between your wings to not catch passerby’s attention. Time goes by, and soon Adam will finish. But Adam doesn’t come back. You decide to wait a little more. Then you hear sounds of shouting inside the supermarket, an argument between two men. A carousel of possible scenarios displays in your mind. Adam who calls the cashier a bitch, Adam who yells to the staff because they’re out of ribs. You immediately dash inside, almost smashing through the automatic glass door. You follow the sound of screams, and you find Adam. It’s just not the scenario you had predicted. Adam has his hands raised in front of a bull-like demon, who has a fist directed towards him.

“I recognize you, you know? You’re that shithead from the Extermination”

Adam, visibly pissed off, still keeps his palms open “Hey asshole, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

It’s when the other demon jumps onwards to attack Adam that you throw yourself between them, your spear pointed towards the bull.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” you yell.

Your chest rises and lowers wildly with every breath. You can’t see it, but Adam’s eyes are incredulous. He looks at his own chest, your free arm is pressed against it, pushing him back in protection. Your teeth are gritted, your horns grown exponentially. His cheek tickles because one of your wings is brushing against it with ruffled feathers, and his skin starts to warm up because your hair caught fire. Adam saw you enraged so many times, usually because of him, but never like this. In the end, the demon gives up, taking a step back from your tended spear. He grunts and takes his leave, fists still clenched but not a menace anymore. You finally relax, the fire in your hair suffocates, your wings recollect themselves and your horns shrink back to their original size.

“Ehm…what the fuck happened?” Adam asks, trying to find your eyes. You run away from them as always.

“Don’t ask questions”

“I thought you were supposed to protect others from me, not me from others”

You press your lips in a thin line, and walk towards the checkout with the shopping bags Adam dropped.

“It’s not like I can leave you moribund on the floor of a supermarket with the possibility of you respawning somewhere else in Hell where I can’t supervise you. Let’s get back to the Hotel now”.

Adam follows behind you, and you know he’s smirking. He steals one of the shopping bags from your hand, and takes your side.

“Well, what were you about to ask me outside? You wanted to know about my band in Heaven?”.

Back to the Hotel, you’re welcomed by a wide smile from Charlie. Just seeing you two walking close without fighting signs on your bodies means a lot to her.

“Sooooo, how did it go?” she asks, sliding in front of you.

You and Adam exchange a quick glance, then you shrug “He almost got jumped”.

“Oh c’mon!” Adam exclaims, raising his arms in protest.

“Why so?” Charlie asks.

“A total asshole almost recognized me” Adam says.

“It’s not a secret that you reside at the Hotel, and someone might not like you” Charlie adds.

“I don’t like him-“ you convene.

“We know, (Y/N)!” Charlie sighs “and because there are sinners like you who, rightfully so, don’t like Adam, we need you to be close to him. Even because we can’t risk Adam using his powers, it could be trouble”.

You stop to reflect, meanwhile Adam puts the grocery bags on the kitchen counter without saying a word. Now that you think about it, Adam didn’t use his powers. When he reappeared in Hell, although with less capacity, he still kept a great power. He was prohibited from using it at the Hazbin Hotel, but anyone would have used them in a situation like the one that unfolded at the supermarket. But Adam didn’t do nothing. He just raised his hands, limiting himself to only cuss at the potential aggressor, and then you intervened. Did he internalize a Hotel lesson?

“No, Adam didn’t use his powers. We gotta give him credit for that” you say.

Adam freezes as he opens the fridge to organize the groceries. You can’t see him, but he’s delicately blushing.

“That’s awesome!” Charlie chirps, happily “It’s a great step forward, Adam!”.

“Mh yeah whatever” Adam brushes it off.

“And you Adam, did you see any quality in (Y/N) that you previously ignored?” Charlie asks, full of hope.

Adam looks at you. You press your lips together and for a moment you hold each other’s gazes. You feel yourself palpitating, and it bothers you.

“She was cool I guess. Cool-ish. And she got interested in my band. But that’s natural, all bitches are interested in my band”.

“Adam, nicknames!”.

Adam raises his shoulders “If (Y/N) doesn’t mind, I’ll go to my room”.

“Me too” you assert.

You wave at all the guests in the lobby, Angel Dust has a weirdly wide smile on his face, almost amused. You go up the stairs, following behind Adam. His arms fall on his side.

“You wanna follow me to my bed?!” he says.

“I’m going to my own room which happens to be next to yours, asshole!”

“Yeah yeah, it’s more likely for Mr. Deer over there to cross the Pearly Gates than me letting you have a piece of this” Adam replies, pointing both fingers down to his groin.

“I don’t even want it!”.

Downstairs, Angel Dust looks at everyone with insistence. Husk is confused, Alastor simply disinterested, and Cherri Bomb appears to already know what the spider demon is about to say.

“Is it me or I sense a certain sexual tension?” he finally says.

Vaggie, Husk and Charlie sigh in resignation. Alastor decides that it’s time for him to get up and leave. Cherri Bomb, on her part, chuckles.

“Yeah I think it’s only you” she says.

“If you sense sexual tension between them I think you got a serious problem, Angel” Vaggie says.

Angel bursts out laughing, throwing himself back on the couch and crossing his numerous arms behind his neck “I bet good money that those two will end up going at it within a week”.

Before they could realize it, all of them were already placing a good amount of money on bets. All pointing towards a no. Angel Dust is the only one convinced of his vision. That between the Royal Guard and the First Man, climbing up the stairs next to each other with annoyance, there could be something that keeps you close in a different way.

———

Adam stops in front of his bedroom’s door. He opens it, and you walk towards the door next to it which is the one for your room. But Adam clears his throat, staring at an indefinite point in front of him.

“Uhm…can you come here a sec?”.

You raise a confused eyebrow, and you cautiously walk towards him. You should be holding your angelic spear, but you left it aside. You stand behind him, and Adam turns around to face you.

“Yeah?” you question.

Adam looks at you, and you raise your chin to hold up his golden eyes. This time you see the flushed red on his cheeks, and his embarrassed expression.

“Well…thanks for today…I guess? This is how Lucifer’s brat wants me to talk to you, right?”.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your hands start to fidget. It’s not difficult to look at Adam when he’s being like this.

“Yeah, I don’t know, whatever. Don’t expect things to change” you reply.

Adam scowls, and moves closer to you.

“Of course not, you’re still a world-class pain in the ass”.

“And you’re still a fucking jerk”.

Your foreheads are almost touching, you can feel his breath on your face. You notice it too late. Why aren’t you backing up? Shouldn’t that be easy? Your heart is racing again.

“And you’re still a bi-“

“Hey” you interrupt “Charlie said…”.

Too close now. As always. You and Adam have always been close. In a different way. And you always wanted to leave. But not even Adam is moving and his gaze softens. He’s looking at you intently, he’s burning and doesn’t know what to do and at the same time he seems convinced on something.

“I know” he says, with half a tone “nicknames should not be um…”.

He stumbles on his own words, you’re now chest to chest, and you try to help him out “Nicknames shouldn’t be de…” you have trouble too.

“Deroga…tory…” he mumbles.

You lean in. And without premeditation, there’s a kiss. Strong, desperate. Your lips intertwined, your hands in his hair and grazing his horns, and his own hand placed on your waist. He doesn’t need to pull you closer, you already were. You don’t have time to breathe, your kisses are too persistent. A couple of moans escape you both, out of confusion and satisfaction. Now your arguments all look like a joke, because it’s obvious that the sexual tension Angel Dust envisioned is an undeniable reality. Despite spending months repeating that it was something that would never happen. And here you are, clinging to one another, making out. And it feels good.

When you separate you meet his eyes. You expect something terrible. Disgust, or that he stays true to his word and strays away. But you don’t see any of that. Only disbelief, and a sort of epiphany that encourages him to encapsulate the nape of your neck with a hand.

“Shit” he says.

“Shit” you convene.

And then you throw yourselves against each other’s lips again, and Adam drags you inside his room. You let yourself be taken away, and you shut the door close with a kick.

[vxiphoid]

SERENE SHENANIGANS

❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense

tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you

amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️

⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟

♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun

twst masterlist

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— “leona… pspsps….”

— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”

— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”

— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…

— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭

— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…

— “what…”

— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.

— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”

— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

JACK HOWL

— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.

— “jack?”

— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”

— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”

— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.

— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.

— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.

— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.

— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin

— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”

— “oh wow. and then?”

— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.

— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

RUGGIE BUCCHI

— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.

— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️

— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.

— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”

— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾

— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”

— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes

— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”

— “i’m trying!”

— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…

— “…and the fish drowned in air.”

— “yes.”

— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter thirty seven. laser tag cw. derogatory language/slurs. wc 701 + 4 ss a/n. I do want to be clear that I am part of the lgbt+ community and have been called these things which of course isn't like? an excuse to say that like I can say it? though I think people should be able to reclaim their slurs but. ANYWAY the point is, I have censored it but if it makes people uncomfy, I can fully censor!!

After Felix had stopped pouting he had showered you in compliments, genuinely impressed at how you were able to get the plushy in two tries. He pretends to bow down to you.

“All hail the claw queen!!!!” You snort at his silliness before trying to pull him up, hoping no one was watching the two of you.

“Oh my god, stop it!! Lix!”

“What?? I’m just giving my respects to my new queen,” Your eyes roll playfully, nudging him softly.

“So, what should we name our son?” You question as you point to the duckling plushy he was holding. Honestly? It reminded you of the pretty boy.

Felix on the other hand was absolutely melting on the inside. The fact that you had called the plush “our” son. Why were you so adorable? He could feel himself falling more in love with you, every second he spent with you.

He clears his throat. “What about bbokari?”

“As in…yongbokkie?” A sly grin tugs at your lips.

Felix groans. “Who told you??!”

A giggle falls from your lips. “Minho let it slip,”

“Minho??? I expected Jisung or Hyunjin at least. They have big mouths. In more ways than one” Pink dusts your cheeks as you push the boy who only laughs at your shyness.

“Bbokari is cute though. I love it,” Felix just gives you that breathtaking smile.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, pointing over towards the back of the arcade. “Look, they have laser tag. You down for a round?”

“It’s been forever since I’ve played. I’m down,” You nod, the two of you starting to make your way over there.

“Shall we make a wager?” You squint at Felix.

“What kind of wager?”

“Loser buys ice cream?”

“Oh you are SO on,”

And that’s how you find yourself in the dark arena, neon lights lining the floor as your only source of light. You were slightly directionally challenged so the maze like turns has made you very lost but you were still on guard, making sure to stay far away from Felix. It was just the two of you, trying to hunt each other down, taking your bet very seriously.

You’re hidden behind a wall, peaking your head out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his now raven hair. When the coast is clear you take a step to move to a new location, but a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back, pushing you up against the wall. Even though you were only a few inches shorter than the boy, you had felt so small under his gaze. Felilx has his hand slightly above your head, effectively caging you in.

He smirks down at you and you hate how attractive he looks under the neon lights.

“Well, well, well. Seems I’ve caught myself a pretty girl,” He hums, hand coming down to twirl a strand of your hair around his fingers. Felix’s grin becomes more cocky, canines peaking past his lips. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,”

“Because I’m cute?”

“Hmm, that is a good answer…but is it good enough?” He pretends to think about it, but you take the chance while he’s momentarily distracted. You lean up to press your lips to his and Felix completely freezes, eyes comically wide. Before he can even consider kissing you back you’re tilting your gun, that’s been in your other hand, up so you can shoot him. His vest vibrates to signal that he’s been hit.

“Bye, bye~” You singsong before ducking under his arm and running away. This finally seems to pull him out of his stupor as he yells out after you.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait!! At least let me kiss you back!” Felix wails, chasing after you.

In the end Felix still wins but refuses to let you pay for ice cream and doesn’t give you a chance to argue.

The poor boy has been pouting the whole time about not being able to kiss you until you had let him actually kiss you. And perhaps that lead to the two of you making out in the backseat of his car.

But, you’d never kiss and tell. (But Felix certainly did).

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[absurdthirst]

Cellblock Tango {Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, hangovers, drunk tank, flirting, mismatched power dynamics, jail cell sex, rough sex, fingering, hand cuffs, derogatory language, role play, unprotected sex, miscommunication, Dad Marcus deserves his own warning, father/son bonding, there was only one hotel room, break ups, angst, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), love making, mentions of future children.

Comments: One little interlude leads to a surprising discovery eleven years later, Marcus Pike has a son. You are the woman he fucked in a jail cell when he was a cop and now, you're the mother of his child.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Pike MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Pike.” Marcus answers his phone as he tries to finish this report and he half listens until he hears the words “art stolen” and then he’s listening to the call and he nods, stopping typing. “I’ll be right there.” He promises and hangs up, grabbing his jacket. 

He is quick to drive over to the gallery and he flashes his badge when the police ask who he is. He ducks under the tape and makes his way into the gallery where glass is shattered on the floor and several employees are clearly shaken. “Hi, I’m Marcus Pike, FBI.” He introduces himself, “who’s the curator?” He asks and you step forward.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Pike.” You smile and Marcus frowns, trying to place your face until it hits him.

 **Eleven Years Ago** 

“Let me outtt.” You whine, slapping the bars of the cell you’re in, your head aching and you look at the officer on duty sitting at his desk. 

“You can’t come out until you sober up.” He says and you squint as you look at his badge. 

“I’m sober…ish.” You bite your lip and he shakes his head, “drunk and disorderly behavior…not great for your record.” He says and you scoff, “I’m a senior in college. Art history. I am graduating this weekend. I- I just wanted to celebrate.” You whine, resting your head on the cool bars and you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in this cell.

Marcus shakes his head and has to admit that you look cute for a criminal. You won’t be charged, you aren’t even booked in right now, taking mercy on you, although he hopes that you understand that you need to curb bad habits before it does get you into trouble. “You’ll be there until you can tell me your telephone number backwards.” He tells you with a grin, looking up from his paperwork. Marcus is known as a by-the-book cop and even though he’s still green, he’s going places. His application to the FBI should be accepted any day and he wants to make an impact on the world and community. 

You whine, slumping down on the bench in the cell and soon enough, you’re falling asleep. You wake up a couple of hours later with a headache and Marcus hands you a cup of water and some aspirin. “Here.” He says and you open the bottle, taking a couple and downing the water. He refills it for you and you sigh, feeling sober and worse for wear. 

“Got any good hangover tips?” You ask the cop who chuckles and you finally notice how handsome he is. His brown eyes are tired looking as he nears the end of his shift and you tilt your head against the wall.

“Nothing that would be appropriate for a jail cell.” He jokes, happy that you seem to be sober now. You had been a little rough there for awhile and it seems like though you have a hangover, you’ve learned your lesson.

“I guess pancakes and bacon is a no go in a cell.” You chuckle and look over as Marcus stands up. “You got any mints?” You ask and Marcus nods, reaching into his desk drawer and he hands you the box of altoids. You chew a few and sigh, “thanks.” Handing him back the tin, your fingers brush and you notice again how handsome he is. “I bet you’re ready to head home to your partner after dealing with drunk me tonight?” You ask with a smirk, knowing you were a handful.

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “No partner.” He admits, shrugging sadly. “Ex-wife didn’t want to be a LEO wife.” It had stung but he understood it. He would rather end it amicably than turn nasty after kids. “And you were pretty cute drunk.” He admits with a grin.

You giggle, loving how kind he’s been despite being locked up. “At least I have that going for me.” You wink at him and he leans against the bars. “Your ex wife is an idiot to have let you go. You’re handsome and funny and you have a good job.” You flirt, leaning towards the bars. “I’d wait for you allll night baby.”

“Yeah?” Marcus smirks, enjoying the banter even though you’re probably just trying to get out of being charged. He had no intention of charging you, but it’s a harmless little indulgence. “I think you’re just hoping I’d use my handcuffs on you.”

“Ooo don’t tempt me with a good time, officer.” You wink, “I like a man who knows how to take control.” You reveal with a smirk and you playfully hold your hands up. “Arrest me again, officer.” 

He chuckles and your stomach twists, “for what crimes?” He teases and you grin, “for lusting after a man in uniform.”

There is nothing that Marcus finds sexier than a confident woman and you are not simply flirting with him because you are behind bars. Or if you are, it’s because you find it sexy. The spark of desire in your eyes makes him bolder, pushing off the edge of his desk to come and prop against the bars with a smirk on his face. “Yeah?” He asks, lifting a brow. “What would you do then? Fight me?” He asks. “Or what would you let me do? Right there in the cell?” He’s dangerously close to inappropriate behavior but he doesn’t think that you mind it. 

You look up at him from under your lashes, wrists still outstretched when you say “anything you want.” You promise and he inhales sharply, “I wouldn’t fight you. I’d fuck you. I’ve been a bad girl, officer, and I need some punishment.” You pout playfully and lower your hands, lifting your dress a little higher to expose your panties.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you serious?” He asks, looking around and then back at you. “You really want that?”

You nod, feeling bold at the look in his eyes and you reach through the bars to play with his badge. “Officer Pike. Do you want to fuck me?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yes, I do.” His cock twitches and starts to harden in his uniform and he reaches for the cell keys. “Are you sure?” He asks. “You can say no at any time.” He reassures you. “I- don’t want you to feel like this is to get out of being charged. You’re being released no matter what.”

You nod in understanding, watching him open the door, and you watch him stride in. “I know. I - I don’t usually do this but you’re - you’re so sexy. I want you.” You confess. You’ve been sensible your entire life. Focusing on getting your degree, you didn’t even go out for drinks most weekends and tonight, you want to celebrate. The officer steps closer to you and you reach out to take his hands, bringing them to your waist.

“Shit. I don’t either.” Marcus confesses, squeezing your waist and then he is whipping one hand behind his back as he twists you around. “Hands behind your back.” He growls, a thread of authority in his voice. “I’m going to cuff you.”

You gasp when you feel the cold metal encircle your wrists and your cunt clenches at the way he manhandles you. “I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t mean to be bad.” You play along, arching your back so you can grind against him and you’re pleased to feel how hard he is.

“Should have thought about that before you broke the law.” He grunts, twitching against your ass. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” He never thought he would be a man who enjoyed roleplay, but he is very eager to see how you react.

He bends you over the bench in the cell and tugs your dress up over your hips, making you whimper and your nails dig into your palms. “I’m sorry, officer.” You gasp when his hand comes down on your ass after he sits down beside you, one hand gripping your cuffed wrists, the other slapping your ass hard enough to make you cry out in both pleasure and pain.

It’s a good damn thing that there’s no one else in the entire building at this hour. You are loud and he loves it. “Fuck. You like this, don’t you? You little slut.” He stops and strokes your ass gently. “Was that okay?” He asks, realizing you could take offense and wanting to check in.

You love that he’s asking you if it’s okay, breaking the roleplay, and you know he’s so sweet but also so dirty to be doing this. “It’s perfect. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You promise and he nods, rubbing your ass before he brings his hand down again. “I love it.” You moan, “I love it, officer.”

Marcus groans and he slaps your ass again before he slides his hand down your hip and drags your panties down. “Let’s see how much you love it.” He growls, his fingers seeking your cunt and loving how wet he finds you.

You moan loud when he finds your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds until he is rubbing your clit. “Oh shit.” You pant, arms starting to ache but you don’t care. You want this, you want him. It’s cleared your head and you know you are no longer drunk on booze but rather drunk on his touch. “Yes. Yes. Fuck, that’s - I need more.” You beg greedily.

Marcus pulls his fingers away and he lets go of your arms so you collapse onto the bunk. Unzipping his uniform pants and pulling his cock out, he spits in his hand and pumps himself. “I’m clean.” He promises you. “Are you…on birth control?”

You nod, “I’m clean and on the pill.” You promise and he shifts to kneel on the bunk, straddling your thighs as he pumps his cock a couple of times. “Jesus.” He hisses as he lines up and starts to push inside of you. You whine and clench your fists, enjoying the stretch of him.

You’re so fucking tight he feels like he’s going to bust. Granted, it’s been awhile for him, but he’s clenching his jaw and enjoying the way you squeeze him. “Goddamn.” He grunts when his hips are flush against your ass.

You can’t open your eyes, mouth open in a silent cry as he stretches you and you are certain you are dreaming, this has to be a wet dream. When he starts to move, you moan out and try to spread your legs a little wider but he keeps you pinned down. “Fuck baby. Yes!” You finally cry out when his hips press against your ass with each thrust.

It’s probably the roughest, kinkiest sex Marcus has had in forever and he’s into it. Holding onto your cuffed wrists, he covers you, driving into you with increasingly rougher thrusts. “Think you can spread your legs and get out of trouble?” He growls in your ear. “Your tight little cunt your get out of jail free card?” He demands. “Whoring yourself out? I should book you, keep you here to fuck.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, his words making you gush around him and he sets a harsh pace, “do it. Keep me - I - fuck. If you fuck me like this every day, I’m yours.” You moan, enjoying the way he pushes deep and his deep voice. It makes you shiver under him.

Marcus hisses when you clench around him and the keys on his belt around his hips jangle as he fucks into you. It’s a damn good thing he’s going home after this because you are soaking the front of his uniform. “You are mine.” He huffs, biting his lip and watching as his cock plows into your cunt. “Fuck, this is so hot.”

You moan your agreement, your voice echoing in the empty cell and his keys jangle a little faster as your nails dig into your palms. “Fuckkk. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me cum.” You whimper at the way he angles your hips and you cry out as you cum, clamping down on his cock.

Marcus moans, fucking you harder as you soak him with your cum. Desperate and unmeasured thrusts as he starts to feel his own orgasm building. “Shit- shit,” he whines. “So tight, you’re so fucking tight, baby.” He let’s go of your wrists to hold onto your hips and changes the angle to fuck down into you for the last half dozen thrusts before he’s grinding deep and painting your walls with his seed.

You pant, loving how he feels when he cums inside of you, and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of him inside of you. “Fuck that’s good, officer. Oh God.” You wish you could reach back and touch him. “That was so good.” You sigh and he hums in agreement as his forehead rests on your back. “Are you going to - are you going to let me go?” You ask playfully, eyes still closed as you smile.

"I shouldn't." Marcus plays along, his hand running soothingly up your spine as he catches his breath. He kisses your back and then sits up. "But I think I have to, with something this good." He chuckles, pulling out of you gently and admiring the way your cunt spasms and starts to push his cum out. He tucks himself away and pulls your panties up respectfully before he reaches for his keys. "No regrets?" He asks softly as he uncuffs you.

You let him uncuff you and you sit up, looking at him. “Baby, I couldn’t regret it.” You tell him with a wink, and you cup his cheek. “Thank you. Am I - on a serious note…am I being charged?” You ask timidly and lower your hand from his cheek.

“No.” He smiles, even though he is serious. “I had told you last night you were just being held until you could tell me your phone number backwards.” He chuckles. “You whined it out right before you fell asleep.” He hums. “So I can throw it away, or maybe… I can call you after my work week and maybe take you out on a date? Unless you want to get picked up again for drunken disorderly?” He teases. 

You fluster, nodding at him, “I, uh, I would like to see you again…showered and completely sober. Not that I’m not sober but you know what I mean…not - not recently arrested.” You chuckle and he smiles softly, his brown eyes sweet and soft, albeit tired. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” You promise and he blushes a little, making you grin.

“Well then, I’ll call you.” He promises, reaching up and stroking your cheek gently. “Tonight was fun, but I know you want to get home and shower and I’m about to get off to go home and crash.” He admits. “Make sure to hydrate today, okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand when he lowers it from your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, officer.” You wink playfully and he nods at you. You are soon reunited with your things and call a taxi to take you home. You collapse on the bed as soon as you get home and fall asleep, the exhaustion getting to you. You’ll wait for the officer to call and you dream of brown eyes and handcuffs.

**Present Day**

Marcus squeezes your hand and his face flushes hotly, remembering every moment of his time with you. Your name comes off his lips quietly and he wishes that you were meeting under less public circumstances. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.” He segways lamely. “I tried to call you.” He blurts out. “The number you gave me was wrong. And I finally figured out what the real number was about a year later. By then I figured you had forgotten about Officer Pike.” 

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe that you are seeing him right now. You clear your throat, glancing around to his colleagues and yours and you offer him a soft smile, “don’t - it’s okay. I understand. I just figured you changed your mind.” You shrug like it’s no big deal and he frowns but you stop him before he can respond, “do you want me to show you where the piece was that got stolen?”

Marcus snaps back into a more professional mode and nods seriously, reaching into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a notebook and a pen. He likes to jot down his first impression of the scene while he’s there. “When did you notice the piece was missing?” He’s aware that you gave your statement to the local police but he wants to hear it straight from you. Unable to believe that the drunk tank encounter eleven years ago had turned into his victim on his latest case.

“This morning. I came into work as I always do at 8:40. I walked around to check everything was clean and in place and then of course I saw this piece was missing. I checked the security cameras but it’s been interfered with as it’s all fuzzy. I called the police right away, didn’t touch anything else, and they sent you over.” You tell him as you walk towards the area of the missing artwork, trying to conceal the way your hands shake from seeing him again after all these years.

Marcus nods, jotting down notes and he looks over the scene carefully. “When did the museum close last night? Are there any night shift personnel that clean or maybe a guard?” He wants to make sure that he does everything right and he can’t help but be a little flustered by you. He looks over at you and sees you shaking. “It’s okay.” He shoves the pen and the notebook into one hand and pats your shoulder soothingly. “I know that being robbed is a terrible violation but we are going to do our best to recover your painting.”

“There’s a night guard but he was sick and - he admitted to me he fell asleep for a couple of hours during his shift.” He mistakes your shaking for fear and you play into it, nodding and smiling in appreciation of him helping you with this situation. He’s the last person you ever imagined would be helping you find the art, especially after he never called and you had no way of getting hold of him. “Thank you.” You smile and he continues to assess the crime scene. Forensics comes in and you spend your work day with Marcus and his team working on finding the missing painting.

Marcus is delighted to find that the younger woman he had a brief liaison with has become a smart and capable woman. You are thoroughly knowledgeable about the museum you run and the staff. Even the maintenance schedules are quickly located and accounted for. You seemingly run a tight ship. “Okay. Have there been any visitors who have been unusually interested in the security? Asking questions pointed around the room that the painting was in?” He asks, wondering if there’s another possible angle to this.

You bite your lip, pondering the question before you turn towards Jenny, the new receptionist. “Didn’t you say we had a man come in and he was asking several questions about different pieces and you thought it was weird because he kept looking at the cameras?” You ask and Jenny nods. Marcus asks her to describe him and Jenny tries her best. While Marcus is writing down her description, you admire his profile, the way he’s matured into a handsome man and you remember the way he fucked you.

“If possible, can we see if the camera footage is still available from the days he visited?” A photo of the suspect is worth more than a description, but he hopes that the entire hard drive hasn’t been compromised. He looks up at you. “Do you know how far back the data has been corrupted?”

You nod, “about seven days. It’s spotty in the past 36 hours but it’s solid up until then. I’m not sure if they used some kind of tech to fuzz the cameras but it’s spotty at best.” You explain and look over at Jenny, “can you show office- Agent Pike to the security room?”

Marcus catches the slip up and his cock twitches, but he ignores it. He can’t go there with you. He’s in a relationship. Instead, he smiles and nods, thanking you quietly and following Jenny to the office so he can watch the videos with her to the approximate time the suspect was there.

You watch Marcus leave with Jenny and you check your watch, biting your lip. It’s getting close to four and you glance at your phone, wondering if you should call. No…Marcus will be gone by then. You keep glancing at your watch and finally Marcus appears, notebook in hand just as the door to the gallery opens. “Mom! Mom! Guess what happened? I made the team!” Theo announces as he runs into the gallery and over to you, your mom behind him carrying his backpack.

Halfway between the door to the security office and you, Marcus freezes. His eyes widen and he feels like he’s been kicked in the chest and he swears his heart stops. The boy, he’s guessing around ten years old, looks like he could be a copy of Marcus when he was a boy. Skin tone is different and there are small features that are a unique blend of your features, but he looks like him. There is absolutely no way that this child, this boy, isn’t his. His mouth drops open and he nearly chokes on his own breath.

You ignore Marcus, avoiding his eyes as you look down at your son. “Really? That’s amazing, baby.” You hug him, kissing his hair. He’d been so excited to try out for the baseball team and now he’s on it. You know it’s gonna be a lot of work to take him to practices and games but you don’t care, you want him to be happy. Your mom looks over at Marcus and back at you, her eyes wide. She sees the resemblance immediately and you told her about Marcus when you found out you were pregnant.

He can’t move, trying to process what the hell possibly happened and he’s immediately flooded with intense guilt. He had gotten you pregnant. He had gotten you pregnant and he didn’t call you. You didn’t have any way to get into contact with him and you had been a single mother for ten years. He knew you weren’t married, or at least he thought you weren’t. There’s not a ring on your finger, but you might have a boyfriend. He watches the boy, his son, closely. Absorbing every detail of his mannerisms and excitement as he talks about his obvious passion - baseball. The same sport Marcus had played in school. 

You glance at Marcus finally, seeing his eyes, and you know he has figured it out. You swallow harshly and look at your mom who has questioning eyes. “Can you take Theo for a snack, mama?” You ask your mom who nods. 

“You wanna go to the place on the corner for a snack, honey?” She asks Theo who nods, “can we, mom?” He asks and you smile, ruffling his hair, “of course.” Your mom takes him outside and you inhale deeply, turning to face Marcus. “We need to talk.” You tell him, “you wanna come sit in my office?”

He nods, not even able to put anything into words and follows you to the back. Your office is across from the security office and is neat. It’s obviously filled with personal touches. There’s a picture that is obviously from last Christmas of the two of you. Theo beaming as he holds a new baseball glove and bat. “I- does he- what’s his name?” He asks, once the door is closed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

You can see he’s struggling but you’re hurt too. He didn’t call and when you found out you were pregnant, you were newly graduated and alone. Your mom helped, letting you move in with her and it’s been hard to get your career where you dreamed it would be all those years ago. “His name is Theo Lucas. He has my last name…obviously. It’s - you didn’t call and I thought that you - that you just asked me out to save face for a quickie in a jail cell.” You cross your arms and turn towards the closed door, “he’s - he’s the best thing that ever happened to me so I guess I should thank you for that night.”

“I want to meet him. Officially.” Marcus clarifies. “I didn’t know that he was - that you were pregnant. If I had I would have helped you, supported you, been there for both of you. “Please?” 

You bite your lip, watching him with hesitation. What’s to say he won’t just take off again after Theo has gotten attached. You’re not sure if it’s sensible or really the actual reason why but the words “of course” escape your mouth before you can think about his. His answering soft smile makes your heart ache a little and you clear your throat. “I’ll give you my cell phone, proper numbers this time as we can talk.”

Marcus chuckles and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his badge folder. Pulling a card with his information on it and handing it to you. “This way the ball is in your court.” He offers. “Theo likes baseball?” He asks. “I used to play in high school and college when I wasn’t playing with my band.” He tells you. “Maybe I can practice with him or take him to a game? I planned on seeing the Rangers play this weekend.”

You bite your lip, looking down at his card. “I bet he’d love that.” You smile at Marcus and are terrified but excited for your son to meet his father finally. You’ve imagined it so many times and he has asked about his dad. You tried to explain it as simply as you can to a young child and you told him you and his dad had a brief relationship. It sounded better than what the reality is. “It’s good to see you again, Marcus.” You say just as his phone rings.

“Shit.” He jolts and reaches for his phone, glancing down at it and then giving you an apologetic look. “Hey.” He answers, a smile on his face when he speaks. “Are you finishing up for the day?” He asks, “I’m still working on a case.” Listening for a few moments he hums. “I’ll meet you there, okay. Sounds good. Bye.”

You see the look on his face and you know it’s his romantic partner. The look in his eyes is soft and sweet and it makes your heart twist even though he’s not yours, he never was. You just had one night. You wait for him to finish and he smiles at you after he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry about that.” He says and you shake your head, “it’s fine.” He clears his throat, “so I’ll see you soon. For the case and for Theo. I will wait for your call.” He promises and you nod, twisting the card in your hand. 

“I’ll see you soon, Marcus.” You promise and he gathers his things, bidding you goodbye and you sit down at your desk and close your eyes, hating how your heart twists at seeing him again.

Marcus makes his way out of the museum and when he gets into the car, he just sits for a moment. Absorbing the life changing information that he is a father. He wants to jump in and help and support you in any and every way he can. Feeling guilty for not knowing about Theo sooner. He knows he has to tell Teresa as soon as possible. Tonight at dinner. She will understand.

****

“You met my dad?” Theo asks when you discuss it at dinner. 

“Yes baby. He’s - he - we lost touch and now he’s back. I got his number. He wants to meet you. He loves baseball too and said about taking you to a game. I- I know it’s a lot to take in but he wants to get to know you.” You tell Theo who frowns, looking down at his plate. 

“Why now?” Theo asks and you clear your throat, “I told you…we lost touch.” You explain and Theo shakes his head, “he didn’t want me?” He asks and you reach for his hand. 

“No. No. Not that. It’s complicated. Adult stuff you won’t understand.” You try again but Theo is pushing his chair back and rushing to his room, “you didn’t want me to know him!” He yells and slams the door, making you close your eyes and rub your head.

****

“I have something I need to tell you.” Marcus gazes at Teresa nervously over the votive in the middle of the romantic table at their favorite restaurant. He’s already had two glasses of wine because he’s excited and nervous. Reaching out, he takes her hand. “Eleven years ago, I had a….fling.” He isn’t going to give all the specifics, but Teresa deserves to know. “It was right before the FBI academy and somehow, the phone number I was given was bad, so it didn’t go beyond the one encounter.” 

Teresa tilts her head and laughs. “Marcus, I don’t need to know about every person you slept with. We both have a history.” She assures him. 

Marcus shakes his head. “No, I ran into her today. And….” He takes a deep breath. “I have a son. He’s just like me. I saw him and I-“ he shrugs. “I’m going to get to know him, become a part of his life.”

Teresa stares at Marcus in shock, looking down at their hands, and she swallows harshly. “How - you - um, that’s - wow.” She finishes lamely, still in shock. “That’s great, Marcus. Truly. That’s - I can’t wait to meet him.” She says, a little through her teeth but Marcus doesn’t notice as he beams, squeezing her hand. 

****

You call Marcus the next day due to Theo constantly asking you when he’s going to meet his dad. “Are you free this evening?” You ask and Marcus holds the phone in his hand, “of course. I’m free.” 

You smile, “great. You want to come over for dinner? Theo is excited to meet you. I told him we had a fling and tried to explain it as much as I could without getting into details.”

Marcus hums in agreement, “he doesn’t need to know the details, I don’t think a child would understand that yet.” He will follow your lead on Theo since you have been the one raising him. “Does he have a particular favorite baseball team?” Marcus asks. “I don’t want to come empty handed the first time I meet my son.”

You smile against the phone at how sweet he is. You remember that from that night, how funny and sweet he was even when he was wrecking you with his cock. “He loves the Nationals. My dad…he lives in D.C and has gotten Theo into his team, so yeah, Nationals.” You answer and Marcus hums, “Nationals, got it.” 

You nod even though he can’t see it, “so I’ll see you at 6?” You ask and he confirms. “Great. I’ll text you my address.” You say and bid him goodbye, hanging up the phone to quickly shoot him a text. You’re nervous and you know Theo is nervous, unsure of going to school today but you took him and he was fine once he settled in. You’ve got the day at work to figure out what to cook for the first time your one night stand meets his son.

During lunch, Marcus runs out to a sporting goods store to pick up Nationals gear for a ten year old. Then back to his apartment to pick up his own glove and some balls. If you’ve got a yard, he wants to get out there and throw the ball with Theo if he’s up for it. Your text comes through with the address and by 5, he’s leaving the office and plugging in the GPS to go to your house.

You smile as Theo rushes up to the front door when Marcus rings the doorbell. “I’ll get the door, sweetie.” You say, rubbing his shoulder and he’s practically buzzing as he watches you open the door. You send a silent prayer that this is gonna go well and you come face to face with Marcus, standing there holding a big duffel bag. “Come in.” You gesture and he steps in, clearly nervous, and his dark eyes find Theo. “Sweetheart, this is - this is Marcus. He’s your dad.” You introduce him officially and Theo looks at Marcus with wide eyes.

Marcus sets the bag down and kneels down so he can look his son in the eyes. The same shade of brown as his own. “Hello, Theo.” He offers quietly, beaming and trying not to cry. “It is so good to meet you. I brought my glove. If it's okay with your mom, after dinner we can throw the ball around?” He asks, glancing up at you for permission before looking back at him to see if that’s something he wants to do.

Theo beams, staring at his father, and he nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Mom - can we - can we go outside?” He asks you and you nod, “of course you can.” Theo surges forward to wrap his arms around his father, “hi dad.” He says into his father’s neck as he grips him tight, excited to have him there.

His eyes close and his arms wrap around Theo tight, holding his son against him. “Hey, buddy.” He chokes out, opening his eyes and looking up at you. He’s overwhelmed and emotional and it’s almost a relief that you are silently crying. He’s not being too much with his reaction to meeting the son he didn’t know about.

You wipe your eyes, seeing the unshed tears shining in Marcus’s eyes and you know in that moment that you haven’t made a mistake. You know Theo is going to have his father in his life finally. “Come on you two. Dinner will be ready soon. Marcus, what do you want to drink?” You ask after clearing your throat.

“Anything would be great, thanks.” He squeezes Theo once more before he pulls away to grin at him. “I brought you some presents. Although I know I have a lot of missed birthdays and Christmas’ to make up for.”

Theo grins, “lots. Ten years worth.” He says and you chuckle, “dad is here now and he brought you some presents. You wanna open them while I finish up dinner?” You ask Theo who nods and grabs Marcus’s hand to practically drag him into the kitchen. 

“Come on dad, I wanna open my presents.”

It’s surreal to hear someone calling him dad and it makes him break out into a wide grin. He had managed to grab the duffel bag and he sets it on the table to open up and start pulling out gifts. He had thought he had gone overboard, but he doesn’t believe that now, the way Theo’s eyes are widening and he’s practically bouncing with excitement.

You get Marcus a beer and a glass of wine for yourself then set them down after getting a glass of milk for Theo. “Wow! I always wanted one of these!” Theo gasps when he sees the Nationals jersey and you feel a little guilty that you didn’t get the right one that he wanted. You got the Rangers and he was happy, but it’s not his favorite team.

“I’m glad. Your mom told me that you’re a big Nationals fan.” Marcus chatters nervously. “Now I have tickets to the Ranger’s game this weekend, would you want to go? Even if it’s not the Nationals? Since we are here in Texas?” It’s a commute to Ranger stadium and he would buy you a ticket if you preferred to come too, but he wants to give Theo that experience together.

You watch Theo bounce, nodding his head, “yes yes yes. Oh can I go mom? Can I?” He asks you and you nod, “of course baby. You can go.” You won’t deny him this time with his father and you know Marcus is a good man. He works for the FBI for goodness sake. “I’ll go get dinner. Sit down, both of you.” You order playfully.

“We better listen to your mom.” Marcus grins, happy that his son wants to go to a game with him. He reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair. “Let’s go wash our hands, gotta be clean to eat.”

You watch Marcus take Theo to wash his hands and you smile to yourself as you plate up the spaghetti and meatballs. The boys sit down at the table and you set the plates down in front of them. “I hope you like it. I didn’t ask if you were vegetarian. Oh shit. Are you? If not, I can make something else.” You start to panic a little, realizing how little you know about Marcus.

“No.” He smiles up at your reassuringly. “I love spaghetti and meatballs.” He looks over at Theo. “And I’m sure your mom’s is great, isn’t it, Buddy?” He asks. 

“Oh yeah! Mom’s spaghetti is the best!” Theo cries out with a grin. “She puts extra cheese on top for me.”

You smile, loving that your son loves your cooking. You look at Marcus, “I put extra cheese on yours too.” You wink at him and watch Theo as he starts to dig into his food, hungry as always, “why don’t you tell your dad about school today?” You ask Theo, wanting Marcus to be involved in the small things like hearing Theo talk about his day.

Marcus listens intently, nodding while Theo tells him every little thing about his day. Grinning to himself when the boy would go off on a little tangent like he used to as he shovels in his food with the enthusiasm of a growing boy.

You finish eating while Theo talks about his school and his friends. You watch Marcus hang onto every word, nodding and responding like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard and that makes your heart thump. “Everyone done?” You ask and Theo nods, “thank you, mom.” He stands up to collect the dishes but you stop him. “Not tonight, honey. Sit with your dad. I’ll clean up.” You tell him as you gather the plates, “I have dessert too. You want ice cream?” You ask and Theo nods, eyes lighting up.

“Must be a special night.” Marcus muses. “Dessert too?” He grins when Theo bobbles his head so hard he might rattle some teeth around. “After we eat dessert, you wanna throw the ball?”

Theo thinks that Christmas has come as he nods and Marcus chuckles, “sure thing, bud.” You smile as you load up the dishwasher and listen to Marcus and Theo talk. “So why did you not stay with my mom?” Theo asks, always inquisitive and you wince slightly but leave it to Marcus to provide his own explanation.

Glancing up at you for permission, he knows he needs to tell his son why the two of you aren’t together. Why he’s never met him before. “I- it’s complicated.” Marcus winces, knowing that isn’t the best answer. “Your mom was wonderful. And I had plans to take her on a date, to spend more time with her, but I messed up.” Marcus stresses. He will take the blame, of course he will. “I wrote her number down wrong, and couldn’t call her. And I didn’t know where she lived.”

Theo stares at Marcus for a moment, absorbing his answer until eventually he nods and looks over at you. “Well, you’re dumb because my mom is amazing.” Your heart clenches and tears sting in your eyes at the compliment from your son and you look at Marcus with an apologetic smile.

“I know I am.” Marcus accepts that rebuke and nods in agreement. “Your mom is amazing and I have to thank her because she gave me a son.” He reaches over and pats your hand. “Thank you. For taking care of him while I wasn’t around and being amazing enough for him to defend you.”

You smile at Marcus and lean in to kiss Theo on the head as you slide the bowl of ice cream towards him. “Okay. Let’s eat some ice cream.” You declare, trying to lighten the mood and give yourself a moment as you hand Marcus his own bowl. “Toppings are yours to pick. We have chocolate sauce, whipped cream, nuts, and strawberries.” You say and Theo begins to put a river of chocolate sauce in his sundae. “Maybe we have enough sauce to go with the ice cream, huh baby?” You tease and he chuckles, setting the sauce bottle down.

“He’s a man with taste.” Marcus chuckles, amazed that he is sitting down and eating dessert with his son. “I love chocolate syrup too.” He admits, taking the bottle and turning it up over his ice cream. The little boy beams happily, loving that his dad likes the same things he does. It’s almost a family moment and he feels guilty that Teresa isn’t here to see it. “What else do you like? Whipped cream and a cherry? Or strawberries?” He asks, wanting to know everything about Theo.

“Whipped cream, for sure. And nuts.” Theo answers and reaches for a spoonful of nuts. You watch him and Marcus chuckles, “same. I do like strawberries but not on ice cream.” He says and Theo nods. You reach for the strawberries, “those are for me. I love strawberries.” Marcus nods and you watch him as he takes the spoon from Theo to cover his sundae with nuts. The ice cream goes down well and you’re soon putting the dishwasher on while Marcus and Theo go outside to play catch.

Outside, Marcus feels like he is living every ‘dad dream’ he’s ever had. It started with small tosses of the ball to warm up and he started asking questions. Theo’s likes, dislikes. His dreams. Favorite movies. Learning about the boy and hopefully bonding with him. They play until you come back outside as the sun starts to go down.

Marcus sits in the living room while Theo showers and gets ready for bed. He’s already done his homework and you get him in bed. “You want your dad to come and say goodnight?” You ask Theo after you kiss his forehead. 

“Yes, please mama.” He murmurs and you nod, standing up and walking into the living room where Marcus is sitting. “He wants you to say goodnight.” You tell him and he stands up, rubbing his hands on his pants.

Marcus goes down the hall and hovers in the doorway for a moment, taking in the bedroom and smiling when he sees baseball posters on the wall. It could be a bedroom from his own childhood. “You all ready for bed, buddy?” He asks, coming and sitting on the edge and nervously rubbing the covers on the edge. .

“No.” Theo says and you smile as you lean against the wall in the hallway. 

“I know, I’m never tired after a big day.” Marcus smiles and pats the bed sheets. 

Theo nods, settling down against his pillow, “after you fight the bad guys?” He asks his father with a sleepy smile.

Marcus reaches up and brushes Theo’s hair gently. “After I fight the bad guys.” Marcus nods and smiles down at his son. “Goodnight Theo.” He murmurs softly, amused that despite being so adamant about not being tired, he’s already starting to fall asleep. Marcus sits with him until he’s completely gone and then watches him, amazed that he is here with a child who is his.

You push off of the wall as Marcus walks into the hallway and you smile at him, at seeing the way his eyes are soft and glassy. You reach out to pat his arm, “you want another beer? Or coffee before you go? We need to talk about how we move forward.”

“Sure.” Marcus nods and follows you back out to the living room and into the kitchen. “He’s a great kid.” He gushes after a moment. Standing around, he wonders where to go from here. “I owe you a lot of child support.” He blurts out, reaching into his pocket for a check he had written. “Obviously it’s not ten years worth, but I want to start making up for not being here.”

Your eyes widen at the amount of the check. “Marcus. No- it wasn’t - you didn’t know. I can’t accept this. You didn’t know about him. You didn’t dodge it and I’ve done well. My parents helped. Please…this is way too much.” You shake your head, knowing you could never accept his money when you had ten years with your son and he’s missed out on so much.

“Put it in a college fund for him.” Marcus shakes his head when you hold the check back out to him. “Please. I might not have known about him, but I know now. If I had known then, he would have had a college fund started from the day you told me.”

You can’t deny him that, knowing that your funds for his college are a little low after you have been working hard but it’s not enough, never enough. “Marcus. It’s - I’ll put it in the bank account I have ready for his college fund.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “thank you.”

Marcus hugs you back, there’s nothing wrong with hugging the mother of his child. This is the woman who gave him the little boy in that bedroom. He tries not to remember how good touching you had felt all those years ago. That was past, and he is involved with Teresa now. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs sincerely. “I’ll give you more. I promise.”

You step back, patting his chest, “you’re just - I’m glad you’re in Theo’s life.” You step away and you make your way to the kitchen followed by Marcus. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a beer then we can talk details.” You watch him head into the living room and you grab two beers, making your way into the living room and you sit down on the sofa beside him. “So, uh, we didn’t exactly discuss our - our situations in life. I don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend. It’s been tough dating with a young son and I’ve been focused on work and Theo. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus winces and shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve to be left with the responsibility by yourself.” He won’t let go of the guilt easily. “Maybe with some help, you can have some time for yourself.” He won’t say ‘date’, but that’s your decision. “I- I am in a relationship. Another agent.” He confesses, feeling guilty again.

You hate how your heart clenches at the news but you know he was never yours. “That’s great. I- I can’t wait to meet them one day. Did you tell them about Theo?” You ask, and Marcus nods, “she knows. Her name is Teresa.” He says with a smile that makes you want to cry a little. He’s such a lovely guy and he belongs to Teresa. 

You know you can’t be an idiot, you have a child together that he’s just met. You need to be sensible. “So I want you to see him. We can work out a custody schedule in a few months I’d say once Theo is comfortable and I am. I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping him from you but I need him to be safe and secure and happy.”

Marcus holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Absolutely.” He agrees. “Theo has been your priority for ten years, eleven really.” He reasons. “You are his mother and I would never try to come in and immediately change everything. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the game too?” He asks. “Since it’s a few hours away? He can say that he wants to go and then get nervous because I am essentially a stranger to him. Plus, I can see how you parent, because I want to work with you on raising him.”

You appreciate how accommodating he’s being, not demanding more when he hasn’t been here at all even though it’s technically not his fault. He’s missed out on so much but he’s still wanting to include you. That makes you warm to him even more and you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Let's all get to know each other more. We didn’t exactly have an in-depth conversation before we had sex.” You fluster and reach for your beer to take a sip, “do you want to ask Teresa if she wants to come too?” You add, hoping he says no but she’s going to be part of Theo’s life and you need to assess her.

“She has a case that she’s working on.” Marcus frowns slightly and shrugs. “She’s going to have to be on a stakeout or something.” He had originally been going to go with her, and then he had considered selling the tickets when her plans had fallen through, but this is perfect. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks.

You are relieved that Teresa isn’t coming on this first adventure and you lean back against the sofa, tucking your leg up beneath you. “First of all…I didn’t - Theo is fine but do you have any medical family history? I know mine of course but I want to know in case there’s something I need to look out for.”

“Nothing really.” Marcus shakes his head and takes a sip of his own beer. “Grandfather died of a heart attack, but he was 87.” He shrugs slightly. “I can’t say that’s a short life. Parents are pretty healthy. I haven’t told them yet, but I know they will want to meet Theo, get to know him. When you’re comfortable.”

“I’d like that. Theo would love that. I have always felt so guilty that he hasn’t had a lot of family.” You confess, taking another sip of your beer, tears stinging in your eyes as you think about all the things Theo has missed out on with his father. 

“You okay?” Marcus asks and you shake your head, a few tears escaping. 

“I just wish - I wish I had given you the right number.”

“It’s my fault.” Marcus will readily admit that. “I should have double checked with you before you left. I had been trying not to seem too desperate, or creepy.” He shoots you a sardonic grin. “Since we had just had sex in a jail cell after you were picked up.”

You chuckle, wiping away your tears, “that was sexy as hell though. I still think about that night sometimes.” You admit until you realize what you said, “I’m sorry. I- you have Teresa and I’m not asking you to - shit. Have I made it weird?”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and hums with a small smile. “It’s okay. I promise. I’ve thought about it before.” He admits. “It was sexy.” He doesn’t really think about it now that he’s with Teresa, but when he was single, it was one of his go-to memories when he wasn’t in the mood to look at porn. 

You chuckle, “it was.” You nudge him and move to set your beer down. “I guess we go from here. I’ll see you Saturday for the game. Are you gonna come back to the gallery or is your team working on tracking down that guy first?” You ask, curious as to what’s going to happen with the stolen painting.

“They are working on tracking down the suspect, but I normally come check in every day, every other day.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “The worst thing for the victim is to feel like they are just bogged down in the system. Especially when dealing with art. It’s normally personal or professional so everyone is eager to know that it’s being taken seriously.”

You nod, “then I’ll see you in the gallery.” You shift to stand up, “I’m sure Teresa is expecting you to be home soon. Theo will be out like a light. Do you want some water for the ride home?” You ask, looking down at him.

“Oh, Teresa and I don’t live together.” It wasn’t for lack of planning but it hadn’t happened yet. Just wasn’t quite to that place in the relationship yet even though a lot of nights were spent together. “But I will take a water.” He agrees.

You walk over to the fridge to get him a bottle of water, admiring his profile as he gathers his things. “Here you go.” You hand him the bottle and your fingers brush his. “I’ll see you soon. Maybe…if you don’t see Theo, we can do daily calls? You can talk to him.”

“I’d really like that.” Marcus quickly agrees, happy that you are so willing to let him spend time with Theo and get to know him. “Thank you.” He murmurs as you walk with him to the door. “He’s a great kid and that is all because of you. I hate that you had to do it alone but you’ve done a fantastic job.” Mother’s Day will have to come early for you and he will have to make sure that it’s amazing to make up for the ones that he missed.

You fluster at his kind words, excited to see how this goes, and you are happy for Theo to have his father in his life. You know it’s been a missing piece. No matter how hard you try to cover both positions, you know he’s been jealous of the other boys going to baseball games with their fathers or going out with the father-son groups. It’s been hard and you try to compensate but it’s impossible.

Marcus pauses at the door, turning around and smiling at you. You had been gorgeous eleven years ago, hungover and obviously partying, but now you are even more beautiful. Maybe it’s because he had a child with you, but there’s a softness that he admires for a moment. He murmurs your name, “have a good night. Call me if you need anything, okay? I want to help anyway I can.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway, watching him as he makes his way to his car. You bite your lip, admiring his broad shoulders, and you know you have to stop. You will not ruin your son’s relationship with his father because you haven’t had sex in a while. You watch Marcus, waving as he pulls away, and you shut the door, closing your eyes. “It’s gonna be fine.” You murmur to yourself, deciding to get ready for bed and watch your show to distract yourself.

On the way home, Marcus contemplates calling Teresa, but he doesn’t. Instead he thinks about the situation, knowing that he will have to tell his parents soon, and they will want to meet him. He knows they will have questions so he wants to talk to you about what to tell them.

**** 

“You having a good time?” You ask Theo as he takes a big bite of the hot dog Marcus got him. The game is in full swing and you love how Marcus and Theo are bonding over their mutual love of baseball. You take a few photos, certain that Marcus will want them, and you think about the past few days. You and Marcus established when Theo will meet his parents and the story you’ll tell them is the truth. Although it’s awkward, keeping secrets never helps anyone. You watch the father and son and feel emotional, wishing once again that Marcus had called you after that fateful night.

“Oh man!” Theo cheers when the home run cracks off the bat and he leaps out of his seat to watch it go flying over the left field fence. Marcus grins and looks over at you, emotional at how much he is enjoying this. Almost upset that there isn’t a team in Austin so this could become a weekly thing. He’d say that season tickets could be done. 

“Looks like extra innings.” He teases, playing with Theo’s cap. “You aren’t gonna wanna miss that, are you?”

Theo shakes his head so hard his neck nearly breaks, “no, dad! Of course not!” He scoffs and you hide your grin behind your hand. You watch Marcus point out various players to Theo and they discuss the stats, both clearly knowledgeable and passionate about the sport and it’s making your heart nearly burst with joy.

Marcus grins as he leans back, looking at you behind Theo’s head. “If it goes too late, do you want to spend the night?” He asks, thinking about getting a hotel depending on how many hours it goes over a normal game. “I’ll cover the cost. Two rooms.” He offers, knowing it’s not right to stay in one room.

“Please mom! Please!” Theo begs, looking up at you with wide eyes and you nod, “okay baby. Okay. We can do that if it runs too late. I, uh, I don’t really have anything. We can stop at CVS to get a tooth brush and toiletries.” You say, unable to take away from this experience for Theo. “Are you sure Teresa won’t mind?”

“She’ll be alright.” He’s already texted her and let her know that it might be a possibility. She had said ‘okay’, so he knew she was alright with it. Teresa tends to speak her mind so he trusts her. “We can stop by a store and get some things.”

Finally the game ends and it’s late, way past Theo’s bed time and you can see he’s tired from the constant yawns but he’s fighting it. “Are you ready for bed, sweetheart?” You ask, hugging Theo as you approach Marcus’s car. “Maybe a hotel is the best idea.” You tell Marcus, running your hands through Theo’s hair.

“Yeah.” Marcus frowns slightly as he has spent the last twenty minutes of the game trying to book rooms. “There’s a hotel up the road I have a room booked for you guys.” He promises, turning towards his son and smiling at how sleepy Theo looks. “We’ll find a Wal-Mart and grab toothbrushes and PJs.”

“What about you?” You ask as you buckle Theo in and get in the front seat. Marcus bites his lip, not answering. “Marcus…” You raise your eyebrows, wanting him to answer you before you start to get frustrated. You’ve learned he’s a people pleaser and it’s to his own detriment sometimes.

“There’s….” He sighs and hangs his head. “There’s some kind of big conference this weekend.” He admits quietly. “Everywhere is sold out. I could only get the one room. It’s okay, though.” He assures you. “It’s a nice place and I can catch a few hours in the car. Not like I haven’t done that before.” He chuckles, making a joke about stakeouts.

"No. No. You - you are going to get some sleep. You've been driving and you are driving tomorrow. I- Theo will sleep between us. We can share the bed. We are parents sharing a bed with our son. You can't sleep in the car." You shake your head, whispering harshly as Theo is asleep.

Marcus frowns and shakes his head. “No, the room has two beds.” He reveals. “I just don’t think that you would want…you know that Theo might get the wrong impression.” He murmurs quietly, looking in the back seat and then towards you. He’s trying to be a gentleman and give you privacy. The only intimacy you’ve shared was the night you created Theo and he’s not going to assume you would be okay with sharing a room. 

You bite your lip, "two beds is perfect. I can share with Theo and you get to spread out in your own bed. He won't - we can explain that there was only one room left. He knows you are with Teresa...he wants to meet her."

“Are you sure?” He asks seriously, turning expressive eyes on you. He’s thrilled to learn that Theo wants to meet Teresa, because he wants her to get to know him, but he is talking about the hotel sleeping arrangement. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You nod, chuckling softly. "I don't think you can make anyone uncomfortable, Marcus. You are the most caring man I can think of. We will be fine." You promise. You give Marcus a list of what you need and he goes into Walmart to get your list. You watch Theo sleep in the mirror and about ten minutes later, Marcus is pulling up at the hotel. You grab the bags after Marcus checks in and comes back out. "Can you carry Theo?"

“Of course I can.” Marcus beams as he opens the back door and starts to gently unbuckle the sleeping child and pull him out of the car. “He’s solid.” He grunts, grinning at you as Theo snuggles against his dads shoulder and grunts at being disturbed before settling back down into a limp mass of limbs.

You smile, watching Theo wrap his arms around his dad who carries him to the room. “Notice I didn’t offer.” You tease softly and pat Marcus on the shoulder as you take over finding the room. Once you’re inside, Marcus lays Theo down and you work on removing his clothes to dress him in the pajamas his dad had just bought for him. “Night, my love.” You murmur, kissing Theo’s head after you cover him up with the covers, the. you look over at Marcus who has removed his shoes and is watching you with apprehension. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Thanks for buying these.” You hold up the shorts and tank top, feeling a little awkward but it’s necessary for Theo to get some good sleep.

“It course.” He nods, feeling bad that he always carries an overnight bag in the car. “I’ll change quickly while you’re in there and then we’ll get some sleep.” He offers, trying not to think about the mechanics of all of this. This is just two parents sharing a room with their son.

You brush your teeth and wash your face, coming out of the bathroom in the tank top and shorts and you had told yourself in the mirror that this isn't a big deal. It's Marcus and Theo. You get under the covers on the side closest to the nightstand since Theo shifted in his sleep and you look over at Marcus. "Goodnight." You murmur, your eyes finding his in the lamplight.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” Marcus whispers softly, smiling at you as he reaches over to switch off the light. “Thank you for today. Letting Theo come to the game.” He shuffles and settles in the dark. “Might be the best day I’ve ever had.”

“Me too.” You answer honestly and you smile when you hear him snore. You listen to him and Theo breathe for a while until you finally close your eyes, wishing this was real, that you were a real family.

****

The next morning is fun, if not a little hectic. Getting up and getting ready without crowding each other in the bathroom proves interesting and the two of you decide to take Theo out to breakfast before getting back on the road to Austin. Taking your time and enjoying the Sunday brunch, Marcus can’t help but laugh at your jokes and enjoy that you have such a warm and delightful personality. Making him wonder what would have happened if he had gotten your number right. Would you two be married right now? Would there be another child besides Theo? He hates thinking that way, since he’s involved with Teresa, but it’s there in the back of his mind. 

You hate how natural this feels with Marcus. It should be awkward. After all, he fucked you while on duty in a jail cell, yet it feels like you’ve known him forever. You smile as Theo tells his dad about his favorite show and you realize it’s gonna be hard to meet Teresa, to meet the woman that has Marcus. “Shall we get on the road?” Marcus asks, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you nod, gathering your things. The drive home is filled with music and Theo chattering away and you can feel Marcus look at you every now and then, his hand on the gearshift and it makes you want to reach out and place your hand on top. “Dad, can you come to my game on Friday?” Theo asks, “with Teresa?”

“I’ll have to check with Teresa, but as long as nothing comes up with your mom’s case, I’ll be there.” He promises, looking in the rear view mirror at his son’s hopeful eyes. “Sometimes the bad guys don’t stop being bad to do fun things, but I will never stop trying to make sure that I am there.” It’s important to him that Theo knows that. “Even if I’m coming in at the end or having to duck out early, I will be there as much as I can.”

He knows it’s a hollow promise to a ten year old, but he also wants to make sure that he knows that sometimes dad’s job has to come before other things. It’s one of the downsides as far as Marcus is concerned.

Theo nods, “okay, dad.” 

You look behind you to wink at Theo, “if not this game, the next one.” You compromise with your son, not wanting him to put all his hopes on this one game when Marcus could be working. You turn back to the front and Marcus nods, sending you a silent thanks. 

****

“Come on Theo!” You cheer, watching your son run to third base and then “home run!” You shout and clap your hands. Marcus hasn’t arrived yet, he texted to say he’d be late and he has a lead on the mysterious man who was in the video.

Marcus pulls into the parking lot, rushing out of the car and takes a moment so he can lock his gun in the glove compartment and take off his jacket. Rushing over to the ball field that you had told him. He managed to catch Theo sliding into home and cheering. “Yeah! Theo! Way to go buddy!” He stands at the fence and beams at the boy as he stands up and brushes himself off.

Theo sees his dad and his face lights up. He’s covered in dirt but he looks on top of the world. You clap and cheer your son and suddenly Marcus appears beside you. “Hey!” You greet him and glance around, your brow furrowed as you look past him. “Teresa couldn’t make it?” You ask him.

“She had to work.” Marcus frowns slightly but he shrugs. “She said that she would like to go out to dinner with you and Theo.” He offers, although he had been the one to suggest it. She had been a little distracted when she agreed, but she had been rushing to get off the phone to talk to Jane.

You nod, “that would be nice. I want to meet her.” You say even though you’re not entirely convinced. Teresa doesn’t seem to want to meet. She’s avoided every opportunity to meet Theo and you are worried she won’t accept your son.

“I think you’ll get along well.” Marcus hums, even though he’s starting to get antsy about the two of you meeting. He’s spent a lot of time with you lately and while she understands, it seems as if there’s not been a lot of time for them. He doesn’t want her getting worried about things.

After the game is over, you take Theo for ice cream to celebrate and Marcus is a little distracted, looking at his phone. “Everything okay?” You ask and he nods, “yeah. I’m fine.” He says and you don’t push, knowing he has a lot on his plate.

Marcus gets the alert that there is a name on the suspect, as well as a current address. He hums and looks up, smiling at Theo and you. “Tomorrow, I might be a little out of pocket.” He announces to you. “We are going to question the man from the security surveillance.” He tells you quietly while Theo is distracted with his ice cream.

Your eyes widen slightly, “wow. I hope - hopefully something comes from it. The artist is freaking out and I’m struggling to keep him calm enough to keep his other pieces in the gallery. We had to reassure him that our security has been reinforced.” You confess and Marcus nods, “we will get him.”

Marcus hates that he had been late, finding it to be too little time with Theo. “Sorry I was late, but I’m glad to see that home run. Those batting drills are paying off.”

“Yes they are.” You smile, happy that Marcus and Theo have already bonded. You are a little sad that your son has missed out on so much with his dad but you are happy he’s here now.

****

“You got him?” You gasp when Marcus comes into your office before telling you he has found the perp who stole the piece. 

“We got him. And the art. He had it in some storage unit out west, waiting until the dust settled so he could sell it.” Marcus tells you and grins. 

“Oh my God. Thank you!” You surge forward to hug him, relieved and happy that the piece has been found.

Marcus grins and hugs you back. Rubbing your back gently and nodding when he pulls back. “Obviously the piece will be photographed and logged into evidence for authentication, but once that is done, we will return it to you. The pictures from recovery will be enough for the DA.”

You kiss his cheek as you pull back, “thank you. Thank you.” You squeal, not even thinking about kissing his cheek until you hear a throat clear behind you. You turn to see a woman, her eyes flicking between you and Marcus whose eyes widen as he looks at the woman.

“Teresa. Come here.” He gestures her over and introduces you. You aren’t sure if she is upset or doesn’t like you being near Marcus but she’s polite yet aloof when you get to finally meet Teresa.

Teresa slides up beside Marcus and looks up at him in amusement. “Good news?” She asks and Marcus nods. 

“We recovered the painting today.” He tells her and her slightly bland smile turns genuine. 

“That’s great.” She murmurs, knowing how good a closed case is for an FBI agent. She wraps her arm around his waist and hugs him tightly before she looks towards Theo. “So, this must be Theo.” She grins, bending down slightly. “Your daddy talks about you….a lot.”

“My dad doesn’t talk that much about you.” Theo answers honestly and you clear your throat, offering Teresa an awkward smile, ruffling Theo’s hair. 

“It’s great to meet you.” You tell her and she nods, “you too.” Theo steps closer to you and you nudge his back, silently telling him to be polite and he looks at you with those same brown eyes as Marcus.

Marcus chuckles quietly, admitting that is true but Teresa just smiles. “I’m sure he has more to talk about with you than me.” She tells him before looking back up at Marcus. “Are we ready to go eat?” She asks. “I’m starved. Jane had us mucking through a field rather than having lunch today.”

You notice the frown on Marcus’s face as he hears the name Jane and he’s told you about Patrick Jane a few times, about how he feels like the man is trying to get involved in his relationship with Teresa. 

“Let’s go to dinner.” You declare after you grab your purse and Theo starts to chatter to his dad about the upcoming game. 

****

“So, uh, yeah. I haven’t given them my final decision since I wanted to talk to you first.” You tell Marcus as you sit on your sofa. Theo just went to bed and you asked Marcus to stay a little longer so you can talk. 

“The Smithsonian. Wow.” Marcus says softly, looking across the room. 

“Yeah. It’s - it’s huge. Modern art and I- it’s in D.C and I want Theo to have his father in his life but this job - it’s double my salary now and it’s the freakin’ Smithsonian. If you don’t want me to take the job, I understand, but Marcus…I want this. Not to guilt trip you but I’ve lived my life for Theo since I found out I was pregnant and this - this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”

Immediately shaking his head, he hums in disapproval. “No, no, you should absolutely take it.” He insists. “There’s airplanes, we can visit.” He cocks his head and thinks about it for a moment. “There’s rumors of a position opening up in DC, that I’m also rumored to be in the running for now that my latest case has been solved so quickly.” He admits. “Maybe I can push for that position. You wouldn’t find it creepy if I moved to DC too? Follow you and Theo?”

You shake your head so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “You move to D.C? Marcus - that would be - I would love that. I don’t want Theo to lose his dad just when he’s got him. I want you to come to D.C with us…you and Teresa.”

“I’ll talk to Teresa.” Marcus nods. “If I get that position, it’s a director's job, I can pull some strings and get her a job at headquarters.”

You shake your head, a smile on your face, “you are amazing.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll tell them I’m taking the job. We can figure everything out.” You promise and his phone starts to ring. “I’ll let you go home.” You say, standing up and he follows suit, deciding to silence the phone call so he can say goodbye.

“We will work it all out.” He promises as he walks with you to the door. He’s eager to get home and see about putting in for the position. He has a few friends in DC that he can call and have a conversation with.

****

Teresa is shocked when Marcus asks her to move to D.C with him, even more shocked when he proposes. She isn’t sure about the move to D.C but she can’t let him go. He’s a good man and although you and Theo aren’t her ideal, she’s reluctant to let Marcus go. 

When you hear about Marcus getting the job in D.C, you are ecstatic. When you hear about Marcus and Teresa being engaged, you try to be happy for him, but it’s hard. Teresa doesn’t seem to be on board about being a stepmom to Theo, nor does she seem able to tear herself away from Patrick Jane. You’re worried about Marcus getting hurt but you don’t want to say something in case Marcus turns against you. You can’t get involved for Theo’s sake. You often imagine being a family with Marcus and Theo but you’re not an idiot. Marcus loved Teresa otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. You sigh and continue to pack. Theo has finished the school year and you threw a goodbye party for him, you leave tomorrow and it’s bittersweet but you’re excited for the future.

“So I’m going to go ahead and find us a place.” Marcus chatters with Teresa. “I’ve already got listings booked and I’m thinking of a house, at least three bedrooms.” He tells her. “I want a room for Theo, let him come over and spend the night, give his mom a break and let us bond together.” His apartment is packed and organized, ready for the movers to pick up. “What do you think?”

Teresa bites her lip as she holds her cell phone, Jane gesturing for her to hurry up as she shuffles her feet in the airport in Miami. “Yeah. I, uh, that sounds good. Marcus…I gotta go. This case…I’ll see you in D.C, yeah?” She says and Marcus frowns but doesn’t voice his annoyance, “sure. Speak later, honey. Love you.” He says and she hums before she hangs up the phone, following her partner out to their hired car.

****

“Oh my God, he did.” You nod, laughing alongside Theo and Marcus as Theo talks about his friend shoved a marble up his nose and you had to call his mom while taking the boy to the ER after you couldn’t remove it. Marcus shakes his head, laughing at Theo’s face. 

“I told him not to do it.” Theo mumbles and you chuckle, stopping when Marcus’s phone rings. 

“It’s Teresa.” He says and stands up, making his way into your new living room to take the call. “Hey.” Marcus smiles as he answers the phone, happy to see Teresa’s name pop up. She should be about to take off to come to D.C. He doesn’t quite understand why she called him a few hours earlier talking about coming sooner, but he’s happy. “You about to take off? I can’t wait to see you. You should see the new place.”

Teresa looks up as Jane runs onto the plane and she can hear Marcus talking to her but she doesn’t respond. Marcus frowns when he hears Jane say “I love you” to Teresa and that’s the moment he knows it’s over. He won’t be seeing Teresa in D.C. He guesses he should’ve seen this coming but a small part of him wanted him to be the one who comes out on top, who gets the girl for once. “Marcus, you okay?” You ask, “your ice cream is melting.”

“What?” He’s staring down at his phone, frowning at it and then looks back up at you. “Oh, oh yeah.” He shakes his head, plastering a fake smile on his face. “Everything’s good.” He motions back towards the kitchen. “Let’s go eat before it’s ice cream soup.”

You don’t believe that everything is fine but you don’t press as you walk back into the kitchen and Theo has already eaten half of his ice cream. “Where’s my cherry?” Marcus asks and Theo bites his lip. 

“Theo!” You reprimand the ten year old and Marcus shakes his head, snorting, “it’s fine. I’ll just have to have yours.” Marcus plucks the cherry from Theo’s sundae and the boy cries out in protest. 

“It’s not nice to take without asking, is it?” Marcus asks and Theo shakes his head, “no. I’m sorry, dad. You can have the cherry.” Theo shakes his head and Marcus places the cherry back in his son’s bowl. 

“You can have it but don’t take.” He teaches him and you nod, amazed at how far Marcus has come in being a father. It makes your heart thump and your stomach twist but you shove that aside.

He manages to eat his ice cream without causing his son to worry but he can feel your eyes on him. Wondering what is wrong since he’s not acting like himself. 

After ice cream, Marcus and Theo clean up the kitchen together. Marcus knows it’s important to have his son help you out and it’s good for him to see that a man should help with household upkeep. “Go tell your momma goodnight and get ready for bed, buddy.” He ruffles Theo’s hair after he dries his hands. “Thank you for helping.”

Theo comes rushing over and wraps his arms around you. “Goodnight mom.” He says and you bend over to kiss his hair, “go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll bring you some water and Dad will tuck you in.” You promise and Theo rushes off to the bathroom. You glance over at Marcus who is still in the kitchen, shoulders hunched. After Theo is in bed, you and Marcus bid him goodnight, shutting the door, and you walk into the living room and spin to face Marcus. 

“What’s happened?” You ask, knowing there’s something wrong.

His eyes slip closed and the tight rein on his control slips. He sighs and seems to just wilt under your gentle probing. “Teresa-“ he chokes out. “She’s- she’s not coming to D.C.” He turns and stumbles a few short steps to the couch and sags down into it, hunching forward and plopping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees.

You frown, sitting down beside him and you place your hand on his back. “What do you mean she's not coming? Is her flight delayed?” You ask, confused and wanting to comfort Marcus. He seems distraught and you feel helpless.

“She-“ he shakes his head and looks up, his eyes slightly watery. “Apparently Jane is in love with her and….” He shrugs. “She’s going to stay in Texas, with him.”

Your heart breaks for him, “oh Marcus. I- I’m so sorry.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around him, wanting to comfort him. He doesn’t need your opinion of Teresa or the situation, you know he needs you to just be there for him. “She’s a fucking idiot to pick Jane over you.”

“I should have known it wouldn’t be …” he shakes his head again. Not willing to burden you with the second thoughts that had plagued him and the terse unspoken things between him and Teresa. “It’s who she wants. I don’t want to be second place.”

You caress his back, resting your head on top of his shoulder. “You’re not second place. She didn’t know what she had. Jane is gonna break her heart. You were too good for her. Anyone could see it. Marcus…you deserve better.” You voice some of your opinion of Teresa, not wanting to say you think she’s a heartless bitch.

“It’s my fault.” Marcus groans, embarrassed that you are seeing this. Seeing him wallow like this. He should have just gone home. Now you are going to think that he is some kind of sap. Or worse, a horrible example for Theo. “I should have seen the signs. They were there.”

“She should’ve told you. She shouldn’t have dragged you along. She shouldn’t have accepted your proposal or agreed to move to D.C with you. I don’t see how this is your fault when you gave her every chance to say no. She should’ve backed out long ago if she was in love with Patrick Jane. She led you on and you should never blame yourself for that.”

“I should have ended things when I found out about Theo.” Marcus rambles on, appreciating your comfort but he always blames himself. “Concentrated on that. Instead of thinking about having it all.”

You huff, “finding out about Theo doesn’t change anything. She - Teresa didn’t exactly seem enthusiastic to get to know him and - and as his mother, I could sense that. You can have it all, sweetheart. You will. She just wasn’t the right one. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t want to be bringing women in and out of his life.” Marcus reaches out and he takes your hand, turning it over and kissing the back of it. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but I should go home.”

You nod, knowing he probably needs to go home and have a drink. “You’ll find the right one, Marcus. You deserve your happy ending.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek as he stands at your front door. “Go have a whiskey and pass out and tomorrow, wallow. Don’t force yourself to be happy, go lucky. You can be mad and upset.” You remind him, knowing he will try to push it aside.

“Thank you.” Again, the thought of where he would be if he had called you floats through his head but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not in the right headspace to say anything and you’ve never even hinted that you wanted anything to do with him. Besides, he doesn’t want a rebound. “I’ll see you later.” He pulls away and stands, grabbing his jacket and shuffling towards the door.

You watch him go and close the door, your heart breaking for him, and you want to fly to Miami and strangle Teresa for hurting him. He deserves more. You often wonder what life would've been like if he had called. Would you be married? Or would you be divorced? It’s hard to imagine you’d divorce Marcus. You know he’s gonna wallow and you make your way to bed, knowing you’ll be there for him no matter what.

****

“Hey.” Marcus has been wallowing for two weeks and he’s tired of feeling down and letting his personal life affect his relationship with you and his son. “What are you doing this weekend?” He tucks his phone against his shoulder and waits for you to answer. He’s gotten tickets to a Nationals game and wanted to take both of you.

You glance around your office, watching your staff walk down the hall through the window. “Nothing. I was gonna take Theo to the park, maybe get some brunch. What are you up to?” You ask him and he tells you about the baseball game. “Well you know Theo will love that.” You smile, “we haven’t been to a game here yet.”

“I’ve got three tickets.” He doesn’t say that it was for Teresa, because he had just bought them. “So I was hoping that you would come with us? Make it a group outing? Unless you want to take the time and have some alone, non-parental adult time for yourself?”

You bite your lip and know you’d love to spend some time to yourself but you also don’t want to miss out on spending time with Theo, and with Marcus. You want to discuss doing the DNA test to get shared custody of Theo so Marcus can spend more time with his son. “I’d like to go. I know Theo will love it and I think we could all use some time to enjoy ourselves.”

“Great!” He knows you are probably still worried about him, you’ve been texting him everyday. Checking on him and he appreciates it. He could have never imagined a better mother for his child or a friend. It makes him kick himself in the ass sometimes for not finding you after that night.

****

“You’re going undercover for a month?” You ask Marcus, arms crossed. It’s been three months since Teresa broke his heart and you’re worried he’s doing this because he wants to distract himself. You’ve been trying to keep him occupied, going on picnics, going to museums and the movies. All with Theo. It’s been hard to not want more from him but he’s emotionally drained and you have to put Theo first. “

“Yeah.” Marcus hates that he has to do this, but it’s also a good thing. He’s started imagining you as a complete family and he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s using you to get over Teresa. “Apparently there’s something that I can be good for.” He jokes quietly and flashes you a grin. “I’ve been sitting behind a desk too much lately.”

You don’t want him to go, you know undercover missions are dangerous and he won’t be able to communicate with you or Theo for the time that he’s gone. “You- you really want to go? I- Theo is going to miss you. So am I.” You admit, biting your lip as you stare at him.

“I’ll miss you both too.” That is easy to confess. “I will be safe, but honestly?” He sighs. “I’m the only one that can go in. My team isn’t exactly unknown in the art world.”

You nod, knowing you can’t stop him, this is his job. “You wanna stay for dinner and you can say goodbye to Theo?” You ask, a little annoyed that he waited until the day of to tell you but you can see he’s been nervous. 

“Sure.” You step forward to touch his upper arm, “you’d better not be killed, Pike…otherwise I’ll murder you.” You threaten playfully as you make your way to the kitchen to begin dinner while Theo sits at the table finishing his homework. Marcus chuckles like he was supposed to as you both walk into the kitchen.

“Hey buddy.” Marcus’ smile immediately brightens when he sees his son sitting at the table. 

“Hey dad.” He glances up and grins before he’s looking back down at his work sheets. 

“I wanted to talk to you before dinner.” Marcus sits down and waits until Theo puts his pencil down. “Buddy, I’ve got to go out of town for work. A big case and I’ve got to be out of touch. It’ll be for a month, and then I promise I’ll be back and you and I are going to spend a ton of time together.”

Theo frowns, “a whole month?” He asks and Marcus nods. “Why?” Theo whines and you turn to look at him in warning for his tone. 

“I gotta go fight bad guys. I can’t - I promise you I’ll spend as much time as possible with you when I get back.” Marcus promises and Theo pouts, “I don’t want you to go! You’re gonna disappear and I’ll never see you again.”

“That won’t happen.” Marcus promises, shaking his head. “If there’s an emergency, I’m going to give your mom a number so my work can get me a message.” He explains

You walk over to rub Theo’s back, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Your dad will be back  before you know it. He’s gotta go fight bad guys and he’s gonna come back and spend so much time with you. Maybe you can stay with your dads for a change.” You give Theo something to look forward to.

“We could do that?” Theo asks hopefully and Marcus nods. 

“Of course. I want you to stay. I want you to have your room set up just the way you want it.”

You nod, “your dad and I will talk when he’s back about spending some nights together. Boy time without mama.” You wink, and Marcus smiles at you before you finish cooking dinner. After you eat, it’s time for Marcus to go and you watch him say goodbye to Theo for the month.

There are extra long hugs and Theo tears up, but Marcus is right there with him. “I love you, buddy.” Marcus promises. “I’m going to be back as quickly as I can. And I’m going to be thinking about you all the time.”

You watch them say goodbye with tears in your eyes and you know it will be hard for Marcus and Theo to be away from each other. They are so close now and you wonder how they were ever apart. Marcus kisses his forehead and you watch Marcus as steps towards you. You wrap your arms around him and you breathe him in, holding him close before he leaves for at least four weeks.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” He doesn’t hesitate to kiss the top of your head. “Take care of our boy, okay?” He asks softly, wishing that he didn’t have to go.

You step back and you pull Theo into your side as Marcus grabs his jacket. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises both of you and Theo’s lower lip trembles as he watches his dad leave. 

“It’s okay baby.” You promise, pulling him into your arms to comfort him. You know he loves his father and if you’re being honest with yourself, so do you. 

**** 

The month seems to drag by and you decide to put up a calendar so Theo can cross off the days until his father is supposed to be home and finally, it’s that day. You are anxious, waiting for Marcus to call to say he’s coming home and finally, when the phone rings, you grab it so fast it nearly drops out of your hand. “Marcus.” You sigh, relieved when he says hello. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” You ask, desperate to hear that he’s fine.

“Hey.” Marcus grins, even though he’s exhausted. He just got out of a long debriefing and still has to fly home, but he wanted to hear your voice and Theo’s. “I’ve got a flight in about ten minutes. I should be back in D.C. late, but I was wondering if I could come over and see Theo? And you?”

You glance over at your computer, a little lost in the fact that he’s okay. Your pounding heart calms a little and you exhale softly. “Of course. Theo will be mad if I don’t let him see you as soon as you are back in D.C. Come over when you’re back. Theo can take the day off of school tomorrow and we can do something together to celebrate you being back. How long is the flight?” You ask and Marcus pauses, “I, uh, actually I’m flying from Austin. Had to go do a deposition. Figured I’d head straight there after the op ended to get it out of the way.” He confesses and you bite your lip, a little mad that he didn’t call first thing. 

“Oh, okay. Well, uh, I’ll see you soon.” You say and he clears his throat, “yeah. There’s something I wanna talk to you about. See you later.” He says vaguely and your stomach twists. What could he possibly want to talk about? 

You mull it over for a couple of hours until it hits you. “Teresa.” You choke, he’s getting back together with her. Something in your gut just tells you that’s what he wants to discuss.

On the flight, Marcus mulls over what he wants to say. He’s missed you. A lot. Not just Theo, but you as well. You’ve been on his mind constantly, wondering if you’re cooking dinner or curling up with your phone to giggle at videos that you’ll share with him. He realized over the last month that he’s been gone, he’s in love with you. It’s been hard to not call you and tell you, but he decided it was better to do it in person. If you don’t feel the same way, he won’t try to convince you. He’ll concentrate on helping you raise Theo. But he’s come to view the three of you as a family. The family that he’s been supposed to have all along.

The doorbell rings and you smile when Theo rushes to the door. “Hold on, sweetheart, let me check who it is.” You look through the peephole and your heart thumps as you see Marcus, looking different with a beard. You open the door and Theo rushes out, “dad!” He shouts and wraps his arms around Marcus.

“Hey buddy!” Marcus rushes towards his son and scoops him up into a crushing hug. Feeling instantly better now that his little boy is in his arms. “God, I missed you. I thought about you every day. Talked to you at night before I went to bed.” He pulls back and grins at the boy. “Have you been good for your momma?”

Theo surges forward to hug his dad again, reluctant to let go so you answer, “he’s been good. Been making a list of things he’s wanted to talk to you about so be prepared.” You joke and Marcus chuckles, “I got all the time for you, bud. I have the next week off so I’m all yours.” 

You are relieved to see Marcus and he steps forward to kiss your cheek while holding Theo close to his side. “Hey sweetheart.” He murmurs and you smile at him, letting him step into your apartment. 

“Come in, I’m just making dinner.” You tell him and shut the door behind him when Theo takes his hand to practically drag him inside.

Marcus chuckles and shakes his head. “You missed me?” He teases playfully but Theo just scoffs. 

“Of course I missed you dad. I didn’t have anyone to play catch with.” He sends you an apologetic look. “Mom tries but she’s not as good as you are.” 

He ruffles Theo’s hair. “That’s okay. Mom’s great at a lot of other things.”

You nod, “exactly. Who else is gonna make your lunch just how you like it? Daddy doesn’t know how to cut off the crusts.” You tease and Theo shakes his head, “I don’t want that anymore.” He lies, “I’m a big boy.” 

You snort, “sure thing baby.” You wink at Marcus as the boys sit at the kitchen table and you grab a beer for Marcus and a juice for Theo. 

“What did you do, dad? Did you fight the bad guys?”

“I did.” Marcus smiles a thank you towards you as he takes the beer. “But first I had to convince them that I was a bad guy too.” He admits and Theo’s eyes widen. 

“But you are the best!” He cries, making Marcus feel so very honored that his son thinks so highly of him. 

“I was just trying to get them to tell me all the bad stuff they were doing. And I did it. So I got to arrest them.”

“That’s awesome!” Theo cheers, a wide grin on his face and you are glad that Marcus is back with his son…for now at least. You work on dinner, listening to them catch up and when you sit down, Marcus asks how you’ve been. “Same old. Work has kept me busy. Trying and failing to play catch with this one keeps me occupied.” You tease Theo who looks down at his plate with a little remorse at his comment. You wink at him when he looks up to show you are teasing and he starts to dig into his dinner. “I, uh, had my mom come stay for a weekend. She looked after Theo while I went out with some work friends.”

“That’s great.” Marcus’ smile tightens slightly, wondering if it was a date. He doesn’t have any reason to be jealous, but he would love to take you out. To give you a kid free night and explore what could be between the two of you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah it was good.” You nod, “Theo had a good time with his grandma, right?” You ask the little boy who nods, “she gave me soooo much chocolate.” He says and you chuckle, “and she was told it was too much.” You remind him and ruffle his hair. 

You finish eating and Theo is reluctant to go to bed but you soon convince him to shower and get ready for bed so Marcus can go lay in the bed with him until he falls asleep. “Night, my love.” You kiss Theo on the forehead and pat Marcus’s side as he lays down and pulls Theo close to continue talking. 

“Dad?” Theo asks softly. 

“Yeah?” Marcus murmurs back. 

“Mommy missed you.” He reveals without you knowing.

“She did?” Marcus’ heart leaps in his chest but he focuses on his son, brushing his hair back. “Why do you say that?” He asks quietly. He wonders if you just agreed that you missed him when Theo said something or if you had been upset that he wasn’t around to help.

“She would stare at that photo of the three of us, that’s in the hall. She’d cry and think I couldn’t see it, hear her.” He whispers, innocent eyes wide as he looks at his father.

“Oh.” He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand.” He whispers, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Theo’s. “I’ll make sure I make it up to her too.” He promises. He knows how much Theo loves his mom. You’re easy to love.

Theo snuggles into his chest, closing his eyes. “I love you, dad.” He murmurs, falling asleep moments later. When Marcus comes out of Theo’s room, softly shutting the door behind him, you look up from your phone. “He asleep?” You ask and Marcus nods, “out like a light.” 

You smile softly, setting your phone down, “he’s missed you so much.” You tell Marcus who comes to sit down beside you. 

“I missed him.” He says and you notice him hesitating. 

“Marcus…do you have something you need to tell me? Because I’d rather you just rip the bandaid off if you’re gonna be moving back to Austin, back to Teresa.” You spit out your worries, unable to stop it.

“What?” Marcus’ eyes widen and he’s bewildered until he remembers that he had told you that he was flying back from Austin. “No, no, I’m not getting back together with Teresa.” He promises. “I’m not going back to Texas. I want to stay here with Theo. And you.” He takes a step closer to you. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been gone.”

You look up at him, your brow furrowed and you wonder what he’s talking about. “Me too. I want - I want us to have shared custody of Theo. Officially. I want you to be listed as his father and I want you to be able to have all the rights a father has.”

“Is that all you want?” He asks softly, knowing that he’s putting his heart on the line. “I want- I needed that time apart.” He admits. “I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just feeling grateful for you after Teresa, but I know that I - I’m in love with you.”

You stare at him, in shock and your jaw drops slightly. “You- wait - you - Marcus?” You ask breathlessly. He fidgets, looking like he’s regretting telling you but you shake your head and surge forward to cup his cheeks, bringing his eyes back to you. “I love you for the brilliant agent you are. I love you for how kind you are. I love you for what an incredible father you are. I am so in love with you, Marcus Anthony Pike. You are the one that got away but you’re back now and I’m yours if you want me.” You promise him, voice steady as you give air to the emotions that have been plaguing you since long before Marcus left to go undercover.

His brow furrows and he pulls you closer, feeling both incredibly frustrated for all the time you’ve lost together and relieved that you feel the same way. He whispers your name. “I love you.” He promises before he ducks his head and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet and full of yearning. You and Marcus may have started off as a purely physical encounter but these feelings are the culmination of months and months of friendship and respect. You sigh into the kiss, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is thumping.

“Baby.” He pulls away and kisses down your jaw. “I love you. I just- I wanted to make sure -“ he groans again and his hands slide down to the very cusp of your ass. “I’ve felt so guilty. Because I wanted our little family to be real.”

You whimper when his lips kiss down your neck. “Marcus. Whatever happens- we - we agree that Theo comes first but - I really want to take you to my bed right now.” You admit, “and do naughty things to you.”

He groans against your pulse, unable to deny the fact that his cock is twitching. He’s had sex with you once and it is one of the highlights of his sexual experiences. So he might be a little nervous that he doesn’t live up to your expectations. “Let me make love to you.” He begs, scraping his teeth over your sensitive skin and grinning when you shudder. “I promise it won’t be the last time we are in bed together.”

You should be worried that this will change everything and if anything happens between you and Marcus, you put Theo in the middle. However, you don’t feel scared, you feel like this is meant to be. You feel like you belong with Marcus, in his arms. The love you feel isn’t fleeting or a honeymoon phase, it’s deep and real. “Take me to bed.” You request softly and Marcus takes your hand, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s been in here before but mainly to help with DIY stuff and when you’ve been putting laundry away. He shuts the door behind him while you shift towards the bed and when he walks over to cup your cheeks, you suddenly go a little shy. 

“Hi.” You murmur when his nose nudges yours. Marcus chuckles softly, “hi.” His response is soft and sweet, making you lean forward to press your lips together while your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt.

It’s slow. An opposite response to the first time that you were together. He wants you completely bare, he wants to be bare. He wants this to be what it should have been that first time. Sighing when your fingers brush his bare skin, he reaches for your hands and brings them up to kiss your fingers. “I’ve dreamed of touching you again so many times.” He confesses. “I want to make this good.”

“It’s you. It will be good because it’s you.” You promise him, your fingers caressing his jaw while his hands let go of yours to find the hem of your shirt. You let him pull it over your head and his hands caress your spine while they slide up to the clasp of your bra. “God, I love you.” You sigh after he removes your bra and he’s dragging you against him, your chests pressed together and your confession comes seconds before his lips find yours again.

Your taste is intoxicating, his tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours. Keeping it lighter, but the hunger is there, just simmering beneath the softness. His hands roam over your back before he slides them down to unhook your pants. “I want to taste you.” He groans against your lips. “Thought about it that night. Just spreading you apart wearing my cuffs and tonguing fucking your cunt on that jail cell bed.”

You moan softly at the memory of that night. How feral and rough it was. “Fuck, I- I think about that night all the time. When I- when I use my vibrator. Remember how you felt, the way you touched me. How you sounded.” You confess while he pushes your pants down and you step out of them to leave you in your underwear.

“I want to touch all of you.” He groans. “I wish I had just stripped you down. Fuck getting caught. You are gorgeous.” His hands caress your stomach, in awe that this body gave him Theo so long ago. “I can’t tell you how many times I jerked off thinking about that night. What I would have done if I had you again.”

“Shit, Marcus.” You pant, loving the dirty talk that’s spilling from his mouth and you reach down to squeeze his hard cock through his pants. “Always imagined sucking your cock. Wanting you to cum down my throat. So much I want you to do to me and me to you. Fuck.” You gasp when he bends over to take your nipple into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair and push him further into your chest, your body almost shaking from the sensation after so long without physical touch.

He can’t help but groan when you tangle your fingers and tug. You hadn’t touched him that night and all of your previous touch had been innocent and friendly. Suckling hungrily, he bites down on your nipple gently and then soothing it with a loving lick. Imagining them filled with milk for his son. Imagining seeing you pregnant.

“Marcus. I want - I want to see all of you.” You plead when he lathes your other breast with attention until you’re pushing him back. You reach for his belt, unbuckling it and working fast to unbutton his pants. Reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock that you never got to touch the first time.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses, his hips rocking up. “Jesus, baby.” He lets you take control, knowing that you had been at his mercy the first time. He owes you this. “Sit on my face.” He begs, willing to do whatever you want but he wants his tongue into you.

You won’t argue with him, letting go of his cock to push your underwear down and he works on pushing his pants and boxers down, struggling to kick off his shoes until he’s left in just his socks and he’s in too much of a hurry to remove those. You watch him lay down and you kneel on the bed. “Fuck, I want to suck your cock too. Didn’t get a chance to.” You say, bending over to run your tongue along the underside of his cock as it rests heavy on his lower stomach.

“Fuck.” Marcus moans, nodding almost dumbly as your tongue presses against the head. “Whatever you want. I just want to make you feel good, baby”

You nod, shifting to straddle Marcus’s chest. You want to suck him off but you remind yourself that you don’t just have one night, you have as many as he will give you. You slow down a little as you sit on his chest and his hands grab your thighs, shifting you until you are hovering over his face.

“Jesus Christ, you have such a pretty cunt.” Marcus groans before he lunges up and dives into your folds. Sliding his tongue through the wetness and moaning at your taste.

Your hands find your headboard, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue dives deep. “Fuck! Marcus!” You cry, throwing your head back and you realize you were too loud for sleeping Theo. You bite your lip, trying to remain quiet and rocking your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

Marcus groans, his hands coaxing you to ride his face. He doesn’t want you to suppress your noises, he wants to hear all of them. Cock throbbing as he probes deeper into your cunt, his chin grinding against your clit.

You let go of your lip as you can’t help the moan that escapes you as you grind down onto his face, his hands squeezing your hips with encouragement and you whimper when he nudges your clit just right.

Chuckling, Marcus makes sure that you are still getting that pressure that makes you whimper. Watching your ass move as you rock on his tongue, lost in pleasure. He wonders when the last time you had someone do this for you. He knows it will be something regular now, as long as you want it.

His chuckle vibrates through you and you reach up to squeeze your own tits after letting go of the headboard, your head thrown back as you grind onto his face. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna - Marc - oh shit.” You squeal and clamp down on his tongue, soaking his face as you cum with a low moan.

He swears he could cum from just that alone. Groaning and continuing to make sure that you have the best orgasm you can possibly experience. Slowing his tongue and just keeping you shaking as you ride it out.

You take a moment to savor the feel of him before you bend over, taking his hard cock into your mouth with renewed vigor after he made you cum so hard. His answering groan makes you work harder, shifting off of his face to take him deeper.

“Baby.” He gasps, reaching down and cupping your jaw. “Holy shit.” His eyes roll back in pleasure when you flick your tongue over his frenulum and suck on the tip. “Not- not gonna last if you do that.” He pants, wanting to be inside you when he cums.

You reluctantly pull off of him, shifting to straddle his thighs, his cock pressed against your stomach as you lean down to kiss him. Again, there’s no rush as you languidly caress his tongue with yours. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur against his chin. “I have an IUD. I know we never discuss anything sexual but it’s been a while for me and I’m clean.” You haven’t been a nun since Theo was born, managing a few nights out with coworkers or friends while your mom babysat back in Austin and you ended up having sex before rushing home to relieve your mom, never taking it beyond that for Theo’s sake.

“I love you too.” Marcus promises. “I- I got tested after ending things with Teresa.” It was a part of the work up for his undercover mission, but he had been planning on scheduling it anyway. “I’m clean and I trust you completely. You know that. Or you should.”

You caress his chest after you sit up, “I trust you with everything I am.” You promise him and his answering grin makes your heart thump. You shift up onto your knees, reaching between you to grip his cock and you position him at your entrance, sinking down onto him with a moan as he slowly stretches you out.

Marcus watches in rapture as your face twists up in pleasure at the fill of him. “I love you.” He groans, caressing your side and smiling up at you as you adjust to him. He wants you to take your time, whatever time you need. He wants you to have the exact pleasure you want tonight.

You take a moment to adjust to him, he’s long and you feel like he’s already in your guts. You caress his chest and close your eyes for a moment, just feeling him. Finally, your thighs touch his and you open your eyes to look at him. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You admit after you lift up, slowly, and you feel him dragging against your walls as you sink back down onto him.

“You feel good.” He groans. “You felt so good that night, but now.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hips. “I love you. Fuck baby, you look so good. You belong right there.”

Your heart pounds as you look down at him, your hand sliding over his chest to feel how his heart beats and you love the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “It was meant to be. That night. Us having sex. Having Theo. It took a while but this is where we belong.” You murmur, grinding down onto him.

“Yes it is, baby.” That he’s now completely certain of. “I want to make a real family with you.” He knows that serious conversations need to happen, Theo’s best interests need to come first, but he wants you to know how serious he is. “Us baby. The three of us.”

His words make tears spring in your eyes and you bend over, cupping his cheeks so you can kiss him. “The three of us. A family, oh God. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it. Maybe…maybe one day…another baby. If it works out.” You suggest, “want you to be there for it all.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you rock back onto him.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans and his cock twitches inside you. “I hate that I missed it. I would have waited on you, hand and foot.” There’s nothing he wants more than to see you growing his child, but maybe there can be another one sometime soon. If you want. He would love it. “Want to marry you, baby.” He coos.

His words make you shiver at the idea of being Mrs. Pike, but in the best way possible. It’s something you’ve definitely thought about, you’d guiltily admit that you thought about it when he was with Teresa. You rock back onto him, your chest still pressed against his. “I want to be yours, Marcus. In every way. You are - fuck - you are everything I want.” You promise, leaning closer to kiss along his neck.

The moment lingers and it’s everything that he’s wanted. The sensation more than he had with Teresa. He knows that now. His hands slide up your back, tongue pressing against the dip in your shoulder.

You are breathless as you rock on top of him, “Marc.” You moan as your body shakes above him, getting closer and closer as the angle hits just right and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit. You bury your face in his neck when you cum. It’s slow and intense, making your entire body vibrate as you feel it from your toes all the way to your head. It’s dizzying and you shudder as you try to work yourself through it.

“Good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and feeling your body shake and shudder as you softly come down from your high until you are limp on top of him. “God, you are so perfect.”

You tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying the feel of him inside of you and the lingering haze of your orgasm. His tongue slides against yours and you’re in no rush. You have all night and hopefully every night from now on. His hands caress your back until he pulls back from your mouth and rolls you over, his body hovering over yours. “You gonna make love to me?” You ask softly, fingers caressing his lips.

“I am.” Marcus leans in and nudges his nose against yours. Pressing his lips to yours in a petal soft kiss before sliding his hand down to lift your thigh onto his hip. “Want to make sure you know exactly how I feel about you.”

You caress his shoulders, “show me.” You order, wanting to experience Marcus like this. After so many months of pining for him, watching him with Teresa. You finally have him and he’s taking his time to make sure you know how he feels. When he starts to move inside of you, it’s slow and you feel every ridge and vein of him. “Shit.” You pant, tilting your head back.

He keeps his lips on your skin. Trailing kisses up and down your throat as he slowly rocks into you. Just slow enough that you feel him move but he’s not even built up anything that could be considered a pace. Feeling like he’s home and relishing it.

You keep your head tilted back so he can kiss along it, making you sigh and your hands caress his shoulders before sliding up to his cheeks, bringing his face to yours so you can kiss him. You wrap both your legs around him, wanting him to be even closer and he barely moves as your tongues slide against each other.

It’s like time doesn’t matter right here, and it doesn’t. The fatigue, the sorrow, the loneliness all evaporate as the two of you slowly move towards that pinnacle together. Almost more emotional than physical as he wants to stay buried inside you.

You shift your hips and Marcus moves a little faster, sensing what you need without you saying it, and you whimper when he shifts deeper inside of you. The pace is still leisurely and your lips hover against his, eyes closed as you breathe him in.

“Fuck, I love you.” Marcus promises, rocking slowly and tightening his hold on you. Feeling like he’s in Heaven. “This is- everything to me.”

“Me too.” You promise in return, caressing his shoulders and back as he rocks into you and he’s still in no rush. “You’re everything to me. You and Theo. My - my fucking world. Would do anything for either of you.” You vow, clenching around his cock.

He hums, knowing you mean every word you say. You have been nothing but truthful with him. Good to him when he didn’t deserve it and he’s honored that you fell in love with him.

When Marcus picks up the pace a little, you tighten your grip on him and can’t stop the little moans that escape your lips. “Oh God. Yes, right there.” You murmur, lost in the pleasure and the emotion as he pushes deep inside of you.

“There?” He grunts, biting his lip and concentrating to make sure that he makes you cum again. His arms brace his body up above you, still close as he works his cock in and out of your tight cunt. “Fuck, one more baby.” He begs. “Give me one more.”

You can’t speak as he hits the right spot over and over. Your stomach twists and your thighs tighten around him as he pushes deep until you are clamping down on his cock. Your head thrown back as you cum, gushing around him as a silent cry of his name graces your lips.

“Oh god, baby.” He groans, and presses his lips to yours as he starts to feel his own orgasm start to take over. “I love you, I love you so much.”

You watch him as he cums, his eyes squeezing shut as his jaw drops after he pulls back from you and you squeeze him within your walls, wanting to milk him for everything he has. Your hands caress his shoulders, sliding down his back. “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” You promise against his chin .

Panting, Marcus smiles and kisses your lips again. “I can’t believe that we are here like this.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I think that the best thing I did was watch the drunk tank that night.”

You cup his cheek, “I think the best thing I did was go out to celebrate my graduation. It’s been - it’s been a wild journey but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you and Theo so much. My world. I want to be your wife, I want to have more of your babies. I want you. Forever. Marcus, I fucking love you.” You declare breathlessly and he grins, pecking your lips. 

“You’ll get everything you want because that’s what I want. You’re what I want. You and my Theo. You’re everything.” He promises and you pull him close, his cock still inside of you and you know that you were always meant to belong to Marcus and him to you. It took eleven years but you and Marcus are finally where you belong: together.

[vulpisnocturna]

Itachi Hate Sex Prompt Please 🙏♡

I'm not used to writing Itachi with anything but obsessive love for the one he's shagging so this will be quite interesting :)))

hate sex

NSFW - Minors do not interact

Warnings: hate sex, reader and itachi get into a scrap, itachi's not that serious, otherwise reader would be dead, humiliation, praise (derogatory), conflicting feelings, fingering, vaginal sex, choking, dom Itachi, creampie, Itachi is a bit mean (as he is when he’s acting)

You parried a kick to your stomach, but the force of the impact still made your arms burn, and you had no time to think about it as he switched to a punch to your face. You ducked, aiming low with a kick to his calves, but he was quick to step back and aim to grab you by the hair. A low move, you thought, but to be expected from someone such as him. You would have never expected to find the Uchiha Itachi in this empty house, one you thought had only been put to use for missions recently. Evidently not, because you had almost been caught in an arm lock as soon as you had entered.

The orders were clear: you had to either retreat or die in the futile attempt to kill him as the traitor he was. Retreating did not seem to be an option, because he kept pressing you with taijutsu, perhaps not wanting to ruin the hideout he was obviously using; killing him wasn't either, because he was Uchiha Itachi, and you were only a normal jounin out of her depth.

He grabbed onto your arm, throwing you against a wall several feet away. You coughed, your back burning and aching, but you were quick to get back on your feet in the narrow corridor as Itachi approached you, not a hair out of place, not even out of breath. You didn't look him in the eye, of course, but the slight smirk on his lips was enough to let you know the bastard would have a smug glint in his crimson irises.

The Gods had been cruel in granting him everything: he was cunning, powerful, came from the most powerful clan in the world, and to top it all off, he had good looks, too.

You had grown slower after he had landed that hit on you, though, and it was easy for him to grab your wrists and twist them behind your back, blocking your movements with an iron grip.

'Your stunt ends here' he said evenly behind your head, his voice calm and collected. He was soft-spoken, and despite you putting all of your strength into thrashing to get out of his hold, he did not budge an inch.

So you put all your strength into stomping on his foot and headbutting him in the nose. He let out a soft groan, his grip slackening for a split second, one you did not waste. You used all your strength to throw him to the ground, straddling his torso and preparing to punch him in the face. But he caught your fist in his hand, twisting underneath you and throwing you off your balance, until you found yourself in his position, your leg pinned down by his knee, the other by his hand. Panic gripped you as you closed your eyes, hearing him let out a soft scoff.

'You think that will stop me from putting you under genjutsu? I could have done so from the beginning. I wished to test the strength of Konoha's jounins these days. Regrettably, I am disappointed' he said. You lowered your gaze to where you thought his torso might be and opened them, swinging your fist towards his face. He slammed it against the floor, above your head, doing the same with your other hand and pinning them with one of his. You started getting more and more panicked, primal fear taking hold of you, suffocating you as you resorted to thrashing like a wild animal.

'Let me go, you prick' you yelled, your eyes meeting his for the first time. You were rooted to the spot immediately, not by genjutsu, simply by his stare. His eyes were... hypnotising. They were terrifyingly beautiful, the colour of fresh blood, framed by long, dark eyelashes.

'Why would I do that?' he asked simply, almost curiously. You gritted your teeth, wondering how quickly he would kill you if you spat in his face.

'I'm not sure what to do with you' he mused, his eyes scanning you, as though you had the answer he was looking for written on your body. You tried to fight against his grip again, this time with your legs, and perhaps by chance, you managed to kick him in the hip, which again, made him groan as his hand shot to your throat. His fingers tightened around it, cutting your airflow, and your eyelids grew heavy, his features blurring. A small moan managed to escape you, and his fingers slackened ever so slightly, his palm lifting a little, allowing you to breathe. You did not know why he hadn't just suffocated you, but you counted your blessings and breathed in sharply, still hazy, but in a different way.

One that made your body oddly warm.

'Did you lose your fighting spirit already?' he asked, and you ground your jaw, snapping out of your trance and starting to writhe again.

This time, he pinned you down with his whole body, to the point where you could not move an inch. It was then that you felt it. It was faint, but it was there. A hard bulge between your thighs, pressing insistently. To your horror, your hips twitched against it, your eyes shooting up to him when you heard his breath hitch.

His jaw tightened, and you wondered if there was indeed a way to get out of this. An extraordinary man he was, but he was still only a man. And he clearly liked you in some way. If you used it to your own advantage, maybe there was a way you could still save yourself.

Your lips parted, and you meekly rolled your hips against him, the whimper you let out not entirely planned as you felt his erection against you. His own hips jerked towards you, and you could not hold back a little smirk. One he caught, unfortunately.

'Oh? You think I don't know what you're trying to do? You think if you seduce me, I will let you leave? Foolish, wishful thinking' he said, a hint of longing in his voice as he leaned against your ear, breathing in, making shivers run down your spine, 'I could indulge you. But it will not go as you think'

His breath tickled your ear, and his lips brushed it, making your whole body tense and hypersensitive. You were quickly losing the sliver of control you had gained, because unfortunately, you were not immune to his charm, and two could play that game.

'Fuck- you' you hissed, pushing against him. The soft, dark chuckle he let out made your lower stomach warm, and two of his fingers lifted from your throat to grip your face. Before you could react, his lips clashed with yours. He was not particularly kind in his movements, but he was good. Unbearably good. His lips were so soft, his tongue demanding as it licked your bottom lip and pressed against yours. You could not help but rut against him, moaning in his mouth as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

Your whole body felt on fire. You hated it. Hated what he was doing to you, how your body was betraying you for a simple kiss with someone so vile. How easily he had regained control over you in your own plan. How you had ended up being his prey.

'Much better' he murmured when he pulled away, lifting his hand off your throat and pushing two of his fingers in your mouth.

'Suck' he commanded, and to your surprise, you obediently wrapped your lips around them, twirling your tongue around the pads of his fingers, sucking like he'd asked. He smirked slyly, pulling them away with a filthy pop and slipping his hand under your shorts and underwear. You could not even fight back, because the first drag of his fingers was like heaven. It tore a breathy moan from you and another scoff from him.

'I suppose you had no need to suck my fingers. You're drenched. What does that say about you, little one?' he taunted, but you were hardly capable of coherent thoughts as his middle finger circled your clit, making you whine in a needy voice.

'You're hard... too' you hissed, arching your back when his fingers slipped inside you, curling sinfully, making the pleasure unbearable. Why did you have to love this so much? Why did you want him to continue? Why couldn't you show any restraint?

'Mhm. Well, you are being such a good girl for me. So compliant' he crooned, voice smooth and mocking, and the smirk plastered on his lips when you clenched around his graceful, sinewy fingers made you burn with humiliation.

'You cannot hide your reactions. I can tell just how much you need me to fuck you' he breathed against your throat, his tongue following the path of your artery, making you squirm as he pumped his fingers inside you. Knowing you would not even attempt to fight him, his hand left your wrists to yank down your shorts and drenched panties, and you slipped out of them, gasping when his fingers curled around the hem of your top and yanked it down too, exposing your naked breasts to his eager mouth. He hummed in self-satisfaction as he sucked on your nipple, tearing strained moans and whimpers out of you as easily as he had overpowered you.

Your shame was flickering out and dying with each drag of his slender fingers along your walls, each curled motion that pressed against your g-spot, each movement that brought you closer and closer to the best orgasm of your life. You felt drunk on his touch, and though you should have been repulsed, you could only think of how damnably good he felt, how every derogatory praise made you throb with need.

Your fingers rose to clutch his shoulders, and you desperately tried to close your eyes to escape someplace else, somewhere where you weren't being so whorish for a traitor who seemed to have you wrapped around his finger. But he stopped, cruelly dragging his lips down your throat, nipping at the sensitive skin.

'That will not do. Open your eyes. Look at me, or I will stop. I want to see how disgusted you are by the fact that you are moaning like a slut for me' he said in a mellow voice, making your cheeks heat up with shame once again as you opened your eyes, because you needed him to keep going, needed to cum so badly it hurt.

He looked so damn pleased with himself as he rewarded you with a third finger and another curl of his fingers, until you were sobbing and trembling underneath him with an orgasm that left you seeing white and unable to hear anything but static for several seconds.

'That's a good girl. You can take another, can't you? You're not that weak' he crooned, lifting his fingers and sucking them clean, letting out a groan as your chest heaved with sawed breaths. He took off your top, unfastening his cloak and taking off his own shirt. He was... beautiful. With jutting collarbones, long dark hair tied in a low ponytail, faint abs and a lithe body, he seemed to be carved by an artist's hands. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of his trousers, pulling them down and freeing his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight: he was long and fairly thick, with a reddened tip already leaking with precum. You were entranced as you watched him stroke it, until your thoughts were cut off by his cock dragging along your labia, making your hips jolt.

'This is what you were planning, yes? Is it just as you had envisioned it?' he teased, pushing the tip in, his lips parting, a soft moan that sounded so hot you could barely breathe pouring out of his pretty lips. As he pushed in more of his thick cock inside you, you couldn't help but whine for it, so far lost in the pleasure that you could not even think about how much you were supposed to hate that man. When he was filling you up so well, when his cock rubbed against your g-spot so fucking well, when you had never felt pleasure like that before.

Your fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulder blades, leaving marks in your wake as you raked them across his back. He groaned, dipping his head to suck on the curve of your neck.

'Good girl. You take my cock like you love it, mh? So this is how a Konoha jounin behaves when she's faced with an enemy. Like a greedy slut' he taunted, bottoming out and thrusting back in, making you tear up and moan filthily.

'You're so tight and wet for me, little one' he continued, his fingers digging into your ass, probably leaving marks that would not let you forget him any time soon.

'I-tachi...' you could not restrain yourself from moaning his name, which only seemed to egg him on as he started thrusting inside you, lifting your legs around his waist. His necklace dangled against your jaw, strands of dark hair tickling your cheeks every time he pushed inside you and tore another moan from you. You were struggling to keep your eyes on him, knowing he would stop if you didn't. And it was too good to give up on it.

'That's right, little slut. Moan my name like that' he breathed, his hand going back to your throat and pressing on the sides, making your head light and heightening the sensations in your body.

Tears glided down your temples, disappearing in your hair, and you tried to keep yourself from screaming for him, but he was too good. And when he slipped out and flipped you on your stomach, lifting your hips and sinking back into you, his hand fisting and pulling your hair, you lost the strength to even think about fighting back. You were lost in that heady feeling, in the sensations he could stir from you, in the way his cock seemed to press against all the right places.

'Fuck- please...' you babbled incoherently, pushing your ass into him, your voice almost lost in the loud squelching sounds.

'Please what? Use your words. If you can still manage' he said relentlessly, and you moaned, clenching around him, glad that you could get away with closing your eyes, but it was too late. He was the only one in your mind now.

'Please- need to cum' you managed to say, and he must have been feeling merciful, because his hand slipped underneath you to rub at your clit, until you were sobbing his name and trembling with an even more violent orgasm than the first one.

'Fuck-' he grunted, his pace growing sloppy as he pulled you up by your hair and wrapped an arm around your torso, securing you in place as he continued to pound into you.

'Going to leave you with a reminder of how you sobbed for my cock' he breathed, pressing on your lower stomach, moaning against your ear as he pushed deep inside you and came, filling you with warmth.

You were panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat, a pleasant ache between your legs, a sense of both satisfaction and shame lingering in your fucked out mind as you collapsed on the cool floor, catching your breath.

He handed you a towel and your clothes, getting up and putting his shirt back on, slipping into his cloak and staring at you. He cocked his head as you stumbled to your feet, still hazy from pleasure.

'We may meet again if you forget this place is occupied' he said, a sly look in his red eyes. You swallowed, licking your dry, swollen lips. But before you could come up with a reply, he had vanished.

[cabezadeperro]

wip wednesday

we're sooo back (derogatory)

“Replacement,” he says in greeting. Tim turns to look at him, face empty of expression. He keeps his hands under his cloak and lets his folded bo staff fall into his right. “You are a bit far from home. Got lost?” “No,” Tim replies. He allows himself a small smirk. “I’m exactly where I am supposed to be.” A beat. Red Hood tilts his head, shiny helmet reflecting the streetlights. He looks like he always does–-nondescript body armour, big heavy boots, that stupid leather jacket over it all. Guns at his hips, mean knife strapped to his right thigh, and fuck knows how many more toys hidden within his jacket’s pockets.  He knows it’s a trap. He has to know. He just doesn’t give a shit. Tim’s not sure if he is that sure of his own competence, or if he thinks that Tim’s that fucking useless.  Probably both.  “Well,” Todd says. He opens his arms, spreads his gloved hands, all theater. “Here you are. Here I am. Want to dance?” Tim rolls his eyes. He lets the bo staff unfold, the end hitting the tarmac on the roof with a loud clang, and then it’s on. The thing about Jason Todd is that he’s both better trained and bigger, quicker and stronger than Tim. Oh, Tim’s good—Tim knows very well that he is excellent, you don’t make it as long as he has in their world if you aren’t—but Todd’s something else. He’s across the rooftop and then he’s not, he is in Tim’s pace, knife shining cruelly under the streetlights. Tim blocks, ducks under his kick, takes a glancing blow to the face and bites his tongue. Twirls the bo staff around him to give himself a bit of room, and then he’s closing again, Todd allowing it, pacing him and mostly playing with him, testing boundaries and all in all not taking it all that seriously. 

[wheneverfeasible]

Bloody Hands, Broken Hearts: a Mafia AU

Chapter 1

chapter wc: 4.6k || rating: M (for now) || cw: blood, violence, reference to death of a minor original character, sex trafficking, past rape/non-con, homophobic language, derogatory language towards sex workers, sexualized use of “Daddy”, mean dom!Eddie, feminized!Steve || ao3

summary: No UD. Years after being sold through a sex trafficking ring to a member of the mafia, Steve’s former master is deposed by one of the most feared men in organized crime, Don Kas the Bloody-Handed. Except, much to Steve’s surprise and horror, he knows him by another name: Eddie Munson.

~

An annoyed tsk left pale lips as the man picked at the drying blood on his thick, silver rings with his thumb from where he was leaning back against the sturdy mahogany desk. His legs were crossed before him in his repose, one bloody hand pressed against the disordered papers on the desk, uncaring that they were being marked by the deep red splattered across his palm and knuckles, already drying a dark hue not unlike the color of the desk itself.

After a tense, silent moment of the man examining his rings and nail beds, dark eyes flashed up to take in his captive audience. Quite literally. Though they were unbound where they were made to kneel on the floor, the men holding guns on either side of them and on the other side of the door let them know that escape was futile.

Steve was fucked.

The thing was, everyone knew of Kas. Kas the Bloody-Handed. That’s what people called him, at least, and looking at the glint of his silver rings smeared with the umber of dried blood, Steve could acknowledge that it was a fitting name. However, that was not his real name, and it was with mounting horror that Steve realized that that was not the name Steve knew him by.

No, to Steve, the man before him was none other than the boy Steve’s former best friend had taken the most sick delight in tormenting: Eddie Munson.

Munson looked different now, but there was no denying that it was him. He had more tattoos nowadays, including one curling up his neck to brush against his jaw and both his forearms covered in them as seen with his fancy dress shirt’s sleeves rolled up, exposing the dark ink. He also had close-cut facial hair now that was a slightly lighter color than the still long and curly dark brown hair he now had tied back into a low and loose ponytail with a piece of cord. There was a coldness to his dark eyes now too, his once more wiry frame now a little more filled out with compact muscle.

In another lifetime, Steve might have been able to acknowledge that the man was attractive, might have had another reason than fear making his mouth go dry and needing to thickly swallow. However, as it was, Steve could only flinch and duck his head further when those flint hardened eyes passed over him.

He was luckily not at the front of the group kneeling on the rug before their former master’s desk, in front of their former master’s fireplace in their former master’s bookshelf lined study. There were a little more than a half-dozen of them, all trembling with fear at the knowledge that whatever horror they had been living through before, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

Munson, or Kas, was notorious, infamous even. He had been a nobody once, until suddenly he was a Somebody with a capital S. He swiftly moved up the ranks of his clan, earning respect borne of fear for his ruthlessness, until suddenly he was sitting on the metaphorical throne. He was not happy there, however, and all too soon he was making a name for himself amongst the other families too.

All too soon the other families began falling before him like dominos, one right after the other, bending the knee or—if they refused or otherwise displeased him—being eliminated entirely.

Which was what had occurred here to Steve’s former…employer. Not that Steve or the others got paid for what they did. Or had done to them. Steve couldn’t even say that behaving well and pleasing whoever they were sent to had them being treated better, since more often than not pain was part of their client’s pleasure.

As for their master—or Daddy, as they were instructed to call him—he was the worst of the worst. The way he showed his favor was through far more than just simple pain. Pain was something Steve could handle. It was the attention that was the terrifying part. Yet, Steve bore that attention willingly, for it kept it off of all the others.

“Tell me,” the voice of their new master softly intoned, his voice like thunder in the tense silence of the room, despite being little more than a murmur. Munson’s voice was a little raspier than Steve remembered it being, but then it had been years since Steve had last seen much less heard the other man. The man had dropped out of school during his own senior year, Steve’s junior, and no one knew what had become of him. Now Steve knew, at least.

Every ear was straining to hear what their new master would say next, though every eye was trained on the ground before their master’s feet. Steve was suddenly thankful his hair was a little longer than he personally liked, grown to be easier to grab and manipulate the head to which it was attached. It also allowed him now to obscure his face ever so slightly as he swiftly lowered his head and his gaze when Munson’s eyes scanned over them.

“Tell me,” Munson said again, and even with his eyes on the man’s blood splattered shoes, Steve could tell that Munson had a sardonic smile on his lips. “Which one of you was Porzio’s favorite?”

Steve barely withheld a flinch. Of course Munson would want to know that. Unlike his former owner, Munson wasn’t an idiot. He couldn’t be to get to where he was now. An idiot would only get themselves killed. Case in point: Carmine “the Uber Dead Asshole” Porzio, gone and soon to be forgotten in the year of our father…Christ, whatever year it was nowadays.

It was hard to keep track of time when you spent the majority of it on your knees or with your face shoved into a mattress.

But Munson wanted to know Porzio’s favorite. The one who he kept with him the majority of the time, the one used for his own personal pleasure, the pleasure of his most loyal lieutenants. The one who was treated like nothing more than decoration, as though their ears suddenly stopped working just because their mouth was filled.

It was a smart move, really. An excellent way to obtain secret gossip or information that might not be in the books. The favorite was a fount of information, but also a great liability. Sometimes it was better to cut the head off a snake before it could bite. Munson obviously knew what he was doing, which should be evident by now. The only problem?

Steve had been Porzio’s favorite.

He knew what he looked like nowadays. He hardly looked like the King Steve he had once been before everything, hardly looked like the rich and privileged jock Munson would have known him as. His own muscle mass was no longer what it had once been, the loss of weight only natural after everything he’d been through, and bruises littered his body where he’d either been punished or been used for pleasure. Sometimes those were interchangeable.

Not only that, but his clothing was far from what Munson would have last seen him in. No polos, no jeans, no letterman jacket. Instead, Steve wore what the others wore, his body hair waxed away in an attempt to add to his feminization. Aided, of course, by the short black skirt that exposed the majority of his thighs through the fishnets, and the red lace bustier top that only just covered nipples but left his midriff exposed. Matching red strappy heels laced up his calves, with a thick black collar completing the ensemble around his neck, a dainty little silver ‘V’ dangling from it like a license.

It was entirely possible that Munson wouldn’t recognize him. After all, they both might have made a name for themselves in school, but Munson hadn’t been there for the disaster of Steve’s senior year, and it wasn’t like they had ever directly interacted before. Tommy always did the majority of his bullying when Steve wasn’t around, knowing Steve didn’t approve of it, so it wasn’t like Munson and him had spent any great amount of time together.

It helped that the makeup he wore was smudged too, which would hopefully act as a camouflage. Perhaps, if he answered things in a way that pleased Munson, if Munson could look past the fact that he was a guy in this role he’d been forced into, perhaps he’d live to see another day.

His lip was already split and his cheek already bruised by Porzio’s earlier slap, so he wasn’t looking forward to having the rest of his face caved in by Kas the Bloody-Handed.

Swallowing back his nausea, Steve drew in a breath and began to lift his head to call attention to himself and away from the others, when another voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I am, sir,” Janice called out, standing from her kneeling position at the front of the huddle. Steve’s head jerked to look at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. Her fingers twitched at her side, swiping horizontal to the floor ever so slightly, though she didn’t look at him. Stay quiet, that action said. Stay safe.

Steve’s stomach clenched painfully, and all the affection he felt for his girls surged through his bloodstream. He had tried, hard as he could, to protect them from the worst of things. He couldn’t do much, but he had made certain Porzio was focused entirely on him and none of the others. They worked as well, but Porzio was the most sadistic, the most vile; he would happily take it all on to save his girls from that.

To think that now, in the face of one of the most feared men in organized crime, they would try to protect him…it was beyond anything he’d ever known. No one had ever sought to protect him before.

Munson’s brow ticked up, his gaze sliding like oil over Janice’s trembling body, but she held firm with her head up. His sardonic smile only grew. “Are you now?”

He appreciated her help, he did, but he couldn’t let Janice risk everything for him. Before he could stand, before he could come clean with the truth, a firm hand was pressing down on his shoulder as Mona stood up from behind him, forcing him to stay kneeling.

“I was also a favorite, sir,” Mona says, making Steve wonder what in the I-am-Spartacus hell was going on. Still, warmth and fondness for his girls spread through him quickly as he looked around and noticed every last one of them had bunched muscles indicating preparation for movement. For him.

Munson looked a whole lot less amused, however, his brow dropping into a deep furrow as his gaze settled on the new apparent favorite. Kas was well-known for not taking fondly to liars and cheats. If he suspected that they were trying to pull a fast one on him…

Just as Munson was opening his mouth to say something, looking far less than pleased, Steve hurriedly shot to his feet. “It’s me,” he said quickly, almost breathlessly, wanting to say it before someone else decided to shout out Spartacus in a misguided attempt to help him. He moved to take a step forward and away from the others when he froze in place by the sound of a gun being cocked and levelled behind him.

Another tense hush fell as Munson stared at him, his eyes dragging over Steve’s form with both brows raised this time, an almost startled air to his mean smile. He waited a few moments more before flicking his wrist, the sound of the gun and man holding it returning to standby mode. Two fingers were then crooked at Steve to indicate for him to finish stepping forward.

Steve glanced at Janice and Mona, giving their beseeching looks a small shake of his head, and then they were slowly and reluctantly returning to their kneeled positions. Taking a deep breath, Steve crossed the distance and moved to take his place in front of Munson, kneeling at his feet without hesitation. “It was me, sir,” he murmured, keeping his gaze down. “I was Master Porzio’s favorite.”

It took all of his willpower (and training) not to flinch when Munson’s chunky rings came into view, his calloused fingers touching Steve’s chin to lift his face to meet his gaze. Steve couldn’t suppress the tremble at finally meeting Munson’s eyes for the first time, terrified of seeing recognition there.

Instead, Munson’s eyes stayed hard and flat, though with a touch of curiosity. A small smirk curled his lips. “Well now. Who would have guessed Porzio was a fudge packer,” he lightly sneered. His gaze moved over to the kneeling women before back to Steve. “And this is why they lied to me, to protect the fairy amongst them?” He snorted. “Who knew there was honor amongst whores.”

Munson’s thumb slid lightly against the edge of Steve’s bottom lip, and well familiar with the gesture, Steve parted his lips obediently. Something dark but pleased flashed behind Munson’s eyes, and praying he was doing the right thing, Steve let the tip of his tongue flick ever so softly against the pad of Munson’s thumb.

Almost immediately after, Munson pressed the rest of his thumb into Steve’s mouth, pressing down on Steve’s tongue enough to make him briefly gag. “Suck,” he ordered harshly, and Steve obeyed.

The familiar taste of sweat and blood filled his mouth as Steve’s lips wrapped around Munson, but he paid it no mind as he worked at fellating the man’s thumb. He kept eye contact the entire time, his hands curled in his lap, as he worked his mouth over the digit. He swirled his tongue over the thumb like it was a cock head, bobbing his head ever so slightly. Munson’s dark eyes watched him the entire time.

Just as Steve was beginning to wonder if he should start faking some moans, Munson pulled his thumb from Steve’s mouth with a slick wet sound, leaving a small trail of spit over Steve’s lips. Munson lightly snorted, lifting his gaze to look at his men. With silent communication, the men nodded and motioned for the kneeling women to stand, ushering them out of the room.

Steve could feel the eyes on him, knew his girls were looking at him, but he knew better than to return the look. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly on Munson who now leaned back against the deck with his arms crossed watching Steve.

Once the thick doors clicked closed behind the others, leaving Steve and Munson alone, a wry grin curled over Munson’s lips. “I can see why you were the favorite, if you suck cock half as good as you suck thumb.” Munson shrugged, pushing off the desk with a small snort to walk around it, settling in the leather chair behind the massive thing. He reached forward and tapped the desk beside him.

Once more obeying wordlessly, Steve swiftly stood and moved around the desk, settling his ass just to the side of where Munson sat as had been indicated. A derisive laugh left Munson then, but he didn’t look like he was about to punish Steve for being what he was. Or who he was. Instead, he looked mildly contemplative as he rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair, propping his chin up with his fist.

“Tell me, sweetheart, you got a name?”

Relief coursed through Steve so quickly he lost his breath for a moment, as though lightning had struck him down. Munson didn’t know his name, meaning he didn’t recognize Steve. Even better, Steve hadn’t gone by Steve in a while. He needn’t worry about someone slipping up and revealing that information when none of them knew it either.

“I’m Vee,” he answered, fingers moving up to lightly graze against the charm hanging from his collar. “But you can call me anything you want…” Steve swallowed quickly, glancing down before peeking up demurely through his lashes, “Daddy,” he finished on a soft breath.

A grin spread across Munson’s lips, and though it wasn’t quite as manic as the ones he used to smile back in high school, a spark of something like genuine amusement flashed behind his eyes. He leaned forward then, sliding his hand over Steve’s fishnet covered thigh until his fingers brushed ever so slightly under the bottom hem of his tight skirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind, precious,” he smirked. “And maybe you can keep your status as favorite, if you’re a good little boy.” His eyes traveled once more over Steve’s body, his smirk growing. “Though I bet there’s nothing small about you, Vee.”

Steve swallowed, feeling oddly flushed at being on the receiving end of Munson’s gaze. Of Kas’s gaze. He had to remind himself that this was more than just his former schoolmate; this man was perhaps one of the most dangerous men alive. His vast network spread far and wide, spies hiding everywhere.

“I’ll be good for you, Daddy. Promise,” he said softly.

“Oh, I’m sure you will, precious. I don’t tolerate failure.”

What was expected of him now? Should he slide into Munson’s lap? Move underneath the desk? Bend over the top? Wouldn’t be the first time he was in any of those positions in this very room. Munson simply continued watching him, however, indicating nothing.

Just when Steve was ready to beg for an order, Munson sighed and removed his hand from Steve’s thigh, settling back further into the expensive rolling leather chair, pressing his fingertips together into a steeple before him.

“We will be remaining here for several days as we go over Porzio’s records,” Munson stated, startling Steve slightly. He was unused to being addressed about any affairs other than what happened in the bedroom. Or anywhere else his master wanted him. Having Munson tell him what was going to happen now was thus unprecedented.

“You and the other whores will have your room guarded at all times and you will require, let’s say, a chaperone of sorts to move around the manor, at least until I can trust you,” Munson said with another small smirk. “Once I am satisfied with my acquisition of the estate, we will be moving to my main residence. Should you and the others please me during this transition, we can negotiate a reward for behaving so well. Do you understand?”

Though Steve’s insides always pinched at being called a whore, seeing as how neither he nor the others ever chose that particular career path, he had enough practice now to ignore such things. It wasn’t like someone of Kas’s reputation would care overly much about their sob stories. No, Steve gave such things only a passing thought, his mind caught on the end of his new master’s sentence.

“A reward?” he couldn’t help but ask, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Luckily for him, Munson did not seem to be particularly annoyed at his wagging tongue.

“The exact circumstance of which will depend entirely on you,” Munson agreed. “Consider it a quid pro quo situation. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. I can guarantee that this is a far better deal than you had with Porzio. However,” he cautioned, holding up a single finger. “Any failure to comply or please me will make whatever Porzio did to you seem like a shy lover’s kiss.”

Steve swallowed down a grimace. That he understood perfectly well.

“I will also have a doctor visit to ascertain your health,” Munson added with a small shrug, clasping his hands before himself. “I have no use for spoiled goods.”

“Master Por—”

A loud smack of hand meeting wood startled Steve greatly enough that a small noise left him as he jumped, leaning away with wide eyes. Munson stared hard at him, leaning in with a small growl of warning.

“Porzio is not your master now, Miss Vee,” the man sneered mockingly. “You will no longer refer to him as such. You may call him either ‘Porzio’ or ‘that pig’ and nothing else, do I make myself clear?”

Steve swallowed, hastily nodding his head. “Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy,” he rushed to say, dropping his gaze and trying not to tremble too greatly. His—Porzio was never consistent. Whether he liked you timid or not could change at the drop of a hat, moving from one extreme to the other at a moment’s notice. He didn’t know if Munson would appreciate a fearful display, or become annoyed with it. Only time would tell.

“I-I merely wished to assure you that we receive regular checkups to ensure our optimum health,” he murmured quietly. “But we will gladly submit to any examination or procedure you wish of us.”

Munson sat back in the chair as he studied Steve with an unreadable expression now. He glanced down at his still bloodied hand and the rings there. He gave a small snort, moving to slowly and carefully pull the stained items off his fingers and settling them in a small pile on the messy desk.

“Clean those,” he ordered. “And then bring them to my room tonight.” He smirked then, his eyes sliding over Steve’s figure once more. “We have much to…discuss,” he murmured, his brows raising slightly. “And Vee,” he added when Steve nodded and moved to stand up, causing Steve to pause.

Munson’s smirk seemed colder then, causing Steve to shiver as though physically chilled. “While I appreciate your immediate acceptance in the change of leadership around here, know that how quickly you switched your loyalties has not been unnoticed. Should you ever attempt to switch them again…you will not find the outcome favorable. Do I make myself clear?”

Dread settled low in Steve’s belly as he stared at Munson with wide eyes. He was standing on the edge of a precipice he hadn’t known existed until too late. He should have realized things would not be as easy as he had hoped they would be, should not have grown complacent when Munson didn’t recognize him.

Licking his lips, Steve swallowed back the threatening rise of bile. He dropped his head, chewing lightly on his bottom lip before glancing at Munson through his lashes once more. “I had no genuine loyalty to…to that pig, Daddy,” he murmured. “He was not a respectable man. Unlike you, sir.”

Had it been Porzio, he would have attempted a coy smile. He had a feeling Munson would be able to see right through it, however, so he instead tried to look as earnest as possible without actively begging. He slowly slid off the desk, catching Munson’s eyes.

“We know who you are, Daddy. None of us would ever dare to oppose you. I know the loyalty of a whore means nothing, Don Kas, but I was the favorite. The other girls will follow my example, and I pledge my loyalty wholly unto you.”

Munson snorted, looking for all the world like Steve amused him. Like Steve was some insignificant insect with delusions of grandeur. The man rubbed at his facial hair with a wry smile that did not meet his eyes. “And what of your body, darling? What if I told you that your dear Mr. Porzio and I shared…similar predilections.”

Steve squared his shoulders, a more genuine smile on his own lips because he had already been expecting this, had known his career on his knees was far from over. One hand on the desk as he leaned over to grasp the waiting rings and the other on his hip, he offered a small shrug of a shoulder.

“My body already belonged to you the second Porzio thought to move against you,” he replied easily. “He was not my dear anything. Not when I was already yours, Master.”

Munson studied him for a moment, but something almost pleased curled at the corners of his lips. “I think I much prefer you calling me ‘Daddy,’” he replied, reaching out to grasp Steve’s chin again for the briefest moment. He withdrew almost immediately. “Go now. And wash your face of that makeup while you’re at it. Make yourself presentable for me tonight.”

It was as he expected. He could not be bitter or regretful when he’d known this was coming all along. It was, after all, much better than his own blood staining the rings he now held in his palm.

“Yes, Daddy. Should I prepare myself for you?” he asked easily as he straightened. He would play his own part well. He was used to this role he’d been thrust into ever since he put his trust in the wrong person. He had seen it enough with his own parents, making him wish that little high school Steve Harrington had known what he knew now:

Love is just a fairytale.

Standing from the chair, Munson let out a soft huff of laughter, amused by Steve’s words. “You really do have your lines down, don’t you?” he scoffed as though reading Steve’s mind. “No matter. We’ll see how well you play your part tonight,” he said in a tone that was almost teasing, his hand moving to settle over Steve’s lower back to guide him around the desk and towards the carved double doors.

He paused then with a hand on the doorknob, eyes almost black as he grinned a shark’s grin, and let his voice drop to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “Trust me when I say that nothing you could do would prepare you for what I have planned tonight, sweetheart.”

Munson opened the door then, ushering Steve out with a slap to his ass, though the soldiers guarding the door didn’t react at all. However, Steve could not spare them even a passing thought as his blood turned to ice in his veins when Munson’s grin grew, uttering the words that sealed Steve’s doom.

“See you tonight, Harrington.”

As the door clicked closed, as his prison guard stepped forward to take him by the bicep to drag him away back to his gilded cage with the others, Steve felt that blade of ice pierce his chest with extreme certainty.

There was no escape for him. His fate had been sealed the day he had defied his parents, had fled town with the boy he had thought loved him, and he had only brought it all upon himself. Munson was going to kill him. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but one day. Perhaps even one day soon.

Thrust into the room he shared with the others, he felt the door close and lock behind him, heard the worried voices and careful touches of his girls as they frantically tried to make certain he was all right, but it was like hearing them underwater, like he was wading upstream through a deadly current. He was shaking, he realized, fat tears sliding down his cheeks.

Only belatedly did he realize his hand was hurting where he had curled his fist around the chunky rings. With an almost detached curiosity he glanced down as he released his clenched fist and stared at the rings he may very well be cleaning in preparation for his own blood and skull and brains to stain their surface.

Absently, he reached out with his free hand to pluck a strand of hair caught in the snarled teeth of a silver monster. There was a clump of bloody scalp still attached to the end of the follicle.

Steve laughed.

~

Next chapter…

~

This scene comes from an idea that would not leave me alone until I wrote it down. I don’t know if I’ll ever continue it as it is quite different from my usual stuff, but I do have some ideas for possible continuation and further backstory for our two leading men

Yeah nvm I’m gonna continue this, it won’t leave my thoughts

~

Fun fact: I almost named the second OFC Monica but then I realized that with the first one being named Janice that I was unintentionally writing it as a Friends crossover and I had to change her name before I named the next one Phoebe or something 😂 oops my bad

Also, Porzio means “hog”, while Carmine means “vivid red” lol

~

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[lundenloves]

couples counselling II

Did someone say angst? Gimme an A, gimme an N— no? Okay. Listen I never claimed to be happy, and this is further proof. Welcome new readers, *leans on doorframe alluringly* I love writing character demise. Happy reading, kids.

↳ angst, angst and angst | 2.1k

part one | masterlist

javier being dismissive and nonchalant again. everyone calm down and stay together, this is a guided tour, follow the red flag i’m holding as we explore the peña mind.

The first seven days: in a word, torture. Well, not quite but it certainly came close by the amplified scoffs, sighs and arguments. Javier hadn’t managed to let go of the fact this whole thing was Aleta’s actual idea, a poor one at that, mumbling profanities to himself the moment he had stepped out the door. She followed behind him, refusing to walk by his side when he was being such an ignorant fuck about the whole thing.

“You want this to work?” He stopped, turning to face her in the middle of the parking lot — palms faced up in question. The sun had caught his glare, somehow injecting it with an extra dose of inconvenience just to add salt to the wound. “Huh, pateadora?”

Aleta cringed at the derogatory nickname he had used. Kicker. He’d coined it in El Paso following an onslaught of kicks to his shin under tables for inappropriate conversations, and he couldn't resist but stamp the name onto her. Like a medal to an athlete. She fucking hated it. “Get off the fucking road, pendejo.”

“Then walk with me.” His eyes followed her, condescendingly shaking his head when she’d pushed him from his stoppage. “Hardly asking for salvation, here.” Aleta groaned frustratedly at his mutter, rounding the car to enter the passenger side.

“No. You’re asking for death.”

Javier leaned his head against the steering wheel, finding his shoulders vibrating in laughter. This really was fucking ridiculous. He hit the dash with a thud, sitting back in his seat and pushing arms across his broad chest.

“This won’t work, you know.” He said, eyes fixed onto the near empty parking lot ahead of them.

Aleta studied his features, sighing at the familiar crease by his eyes and the way it loosened when he’d momentarily lifted his brow. The finger that traced across his bottom lip, then down to his jaw, smoothing over his cheek in visible stress.

“That’s only because you don’t want it to work.”

He’d snorted at that. “I’m paying two-hundred an hour for it, Aleta.”

“Fucking show interest then.” She berated loudly.

And to be fair, they’d tried. They really had tried on the task given to them. But staring at someone who literally boils your blood with a snap of his fingers was hard to do, Javier likewise, finding anything a better option than conceding to the request.

And admittedly, he’d been ducking out of it a bit. Purposely staying later at the office and tiptoeing around the house so as to not wake her when he had eventually gotten home late. He knew it would result in a chewing next Sunday at the session. He just didn’t care.

So one night when he had come home to find her sitting in the kitchen, it was endgame.

“Shit.” He dropped his jacket to the kitchen table, clutching a hand to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?” A deep frown set across his brow, opening the fridge for a bottle of water before turning to look at her over his shoulder.

“Sit.” She near ordered, pushing out a chair for him with her foot.

He turned around. “Why.” Eyes cast downward to the floor with a sharp exhale before placing his hands on his hips purposefully. “It’s late.”

“Puto, sientas.”

Javier stared at her for a moment, his eyes twitching at her energy. He kicked the chair further wide of her leg, sitting down with his hand centre on the table. She locked eyes with him and he let out a long sigh, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders.

“You’re not trying. She asked us to try.” Aleta leaned forward onto the table, watching as he swiped his hand back toward himself.

“And you’re pushing mountains?” He quipped, sitting back and planting his feet a far distance from one another. “This isn’t a one way thing.”

“That’s what i’m fuckin’ saying, pendejo.”

Javier rubbed his face, dragging his skin down in fatigue before turning to her. “Well then let her deal with it.” An accusatory palm had been gestured toward the door, as if the Doctor was standing outside. “I don’t know why you're so insistent on us. We can’t even fucking look at eachother.” His arms thrown ahead of himself to emphasise the point.

“Fuck you.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.” The side of his lip tugged upward at her lack of reaction, both of his hands landing flat on the table. And for a moment, a slight moment — Aleta had thought that was it for them.

And it would've been if she couldn't read Javier well, the minute flaring of his nostrils and the way he inwardly sighed, his features softening and passing as eerie hostility to anyone but the woman opposite him.

He was scared of it all.

And that’s exactly what the Doctor had clocked onto in that session come Sunday. Her notes were pointedly placed by her chair instead of her lap. It was the first thing Javier had noticed when walking in, failing to hide the crease between his brows.

“Mr and Mrs Peña.” She nodded with a stiff smile.

Javier sat back on the deep sofa, maintaining the same distance to his wife as before and looking up to the ceiling in anticipation of more headaches. The muscles in his arms flexed when his hands had been pushed through his hair, joining at his nape. “Mornin’.” He grumbled.

The Doctor took a moment before clearing her throat. “How did you get on with what we discussed?”

“We tried.”

“No we didn’t. Not really.” Javier spoke, receiving a lengthy glare from his wife.

“We did.” She bit back, wasting no time. “He’s just scared of it all.” Her words came like a dagger to Javi’s masculinity, like she’d just clawed it back and shoved him in front of a crowd. He returned his eyes to the scene before him, looking at her like a kicked dog. The Doctor tilted her head at Aleta’s words before looking to Javier.

“Does loss scare you?” Her soft tone angered him.

“No.” He replied dryly, shifting in his seat.

The Doctor allowed for his denial, her eyes flitting to Aleta who had subtly nodded as if to confirm he was lying. “He picked up extra hours. Again.”

“I already had those hours.” His arms crossed tight over his chest again in self-preservation. “I told you, I don’t know why we’re still trying. This is fucking stupid.”

Aleta bit on her lip, a projecting smile forming. “You’re the one who's paying.” Her attempt to mask the brewing anger was not working. Javier sat forward, looking toward the Doctor to ignore his wife.

“I’m paying because all you do is fucking complain.”

“And you believe the love isn’t there anymore, Javier?” There came an interception from Aleta’s pending bite, flicking a few pages deeper in her notes before looking up to him.

“No, it’s gone.” He cleared his throat while resting his elbows on his knees, looking to the floor over joined hands.

“Is that what you want?”

Javier's jaw ticked, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging silently. His face remaining stiff, eyes stuck to the vinyl flooring as if a certain death would occur upon his looking up. “I don’t really care.” The nonchalance in his voice was expected.

“That’s bullshit.” Aleta interrupted strongly. “You fuckin’ know it is, Javi.”

He looked back at her. “Is it?” A hand ran up his neck and over his hair with a grin, her sudden reaction setting him off. “Or is that what you want? You want this whole thing to blow over?”

“That’s not what we’re here for.”

“No, we're here to waste time.” He silenced her, shaking his head before looking back to the Doctor who gave a weak smile.

“This won’t work if both parties aren’t cooperating.” She only added salt to Aleta’s wounds, the pressing of her lips rounding the words off like a fucking punch to the gut.

Javier clapped his hands once, dropping them to his thighs. “That’ll be us then.” He said, digging into his pockets to source a cigarette.

“Will it shit.”

His wife’s tone was brash, her pupils blown in impatience as he caught eyes with her. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip before sticking the cigarette to it, “I can smoke in here, right?”

The white coat opposite him nodded, shifting a few papers across her lap and back to the table. Shaking her head, she asked, “What’s the ideal outcome for you two.”

“To not kill each other.” Javier mused like this whole thing was a joke, tapping the heel of his boot on the floor. A long trail of smoke danced above his cigarette, absorbing Aleta’s attention more than his remark.

“Aleta?”

“For him to stop lying.”

She hadn’t blinked, still in a daze for the smoke.

Javier only looked at her, his eyes squinting before taking a slow drag in thought. Knee once again betraying him for the way it bounced up and down, and the quietness of her voice tightening his jaw.

“I think you two need to talk. With no avoidance.”

He snorted.

“Here. You’ll talk here.” She clicked her pen on a notebook that had been opened to a fresh page. “Javier, tell Aleta something you like about her.”

The instruction made him sigh, sitting back on the sofa and looking up in contemplation for a little too long. “Her lips.”

“Vice versa.”

“I like his eyes.”

“Who loved first?”

“Me.” Javier answered shortly, his eyes shifting toward hers for a split second.

“Recall it.”

Aleta figured out what was going on pretty quickly. It was a solemn attempt to reignite the memories in Javi’s head, maybe create a spark for a flame of their marriage to continue on.

He puffed out a breath, dropping his shoulders and looking back up toward the ceiling. “She didn’t like me, kept pushing me away.” The smoke of his cigarette came with the words, exhalation pushing them up to cloud. “But I was persistent. I wanted her.”

“Why did you want her?”

He sat forward, almost laughing with a tilt of his head. “She made me nervous.”

Aleta’s eyes averted to the floor.

“No one made me feel like that.”

The room fell quiet and for the first time, it was allowed. The white coat encouraged the way they stared at one another. Javier rubbed at his temple, leaning forward but looking back to his wife who stared down at him.

He was a stoic person.

And the breakdown of their marriage forced him to close back up. The feeling of losing that primal safety contributing to the resurface of nonchalance and disinterest.

He knew that she was aware of it.

Which only pushed him further off that cliff.

“Why did you give him a chance?”

Aleta laughed. “I don’t know.” Her smile slowly faded into a shadow, nostrils flaring in evidence to her upset.

No one had asked that before.

“How about we wrap this one up…” A smile came empathetically, closing her notebook and the matching folder titled Peña. “I just want you two to talk. That’s all.”

Javier stubbed his cigarette out in the provided ashtray, rubbing his face. “Alright.” He answered for his wife.

“And what I asked last week too. Maybe try that again.” Aleta nodded absently, unfreezing from her trance and standing up to follow Javi who held the door open. “See you next Sunday.”

Fuck. This.

It felt like Deja Vu by the time they had reached the parking lot again. Javier stood in the middle of it once more, a cigarette clung to his lip while looking back at Aleta. The long inhale he took felt futile by the way it was instantly sighed out, hand placed on his hip.

“I told you, it’s not going to work.”

“Ten years. Javier. Fucking ten years.”

His eyes looked black from where she was standing. And the calmness of his movements was telling against her building rage for every passing day, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want her.

“You really don’t want this?”

One side of his lip turned downward for the nod he gave, as if this is what he was trying to say all along. He shook his head, “No. I don’t.” Arms dropping to his sides in defeat.

He just wasn’t scared enough.

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[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Wrapped Up in You - Echo x reader

Clone Life Day Fic Exchange 2023

Summary: You invite the Batch to spend Life Day with you, and Echo is grateful for the opportunity. Prompt: "Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you."

Warnings: This work is SFW but my blog is 18+. fluff fluff fluff, TBB!Echo, pining, friends to lovers (implied), Crosshair being Crosshair, mentions of Fives.

Word Count: 3.1k

This fic is a Life Day gift for @ladysongmaster! I hope you enjoy! <3 Much thanks to @cloneficgiftexchange for hosting this event! Shout out to @stars-n-spice & @dystopicjumpsuit for the banners <3

Echo sighs, cradling the warm cup of spiced hot chocolate to his chest. It’s not often that the squad gets shore leave, let alone during the holiday season, so he’s determined to enjoy this particular leave as much as possible. Leaning against the wall in your small apartment, Echo silently surveys the scene before him, the ghost of a smile touching his features. 

As soon as you’d found out your favorite squad would be on shore leave for Life Day, you made them promise to spend at least a few hours with you to celebrate. Echo’s heart swells at the memory of that holocall, the way you’d put your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side with that determined look in your eyes that could cow even Marshall Commander Cody. Of course the Batch had said yes, we’ll be there; of course Echo was the first to agree. 

And he was glad for the chance to spend some time with you, even in a group setting. You’d decorated your entire apartment: scented pinecones hanging from festive ribbon, garland of popped corn, gently twinkling string lights arched over windows and doorways. In the corner of the room, dominating the scene, a fresh fir sits wrapped in warm yellow lights and golden bows, bedecked with shiny baubles of varying designs. A few presents sit wrapped neatly beneath the trees lowest boughs. Crooning softly over the radio, instrumental music lilts through the air. Cooking meat and baked goods fill his nostrils. 

Tying it all together, though, is you. Dressed in an overly large knit sweater as red as the Batch’s armor, you’re a vision. Echo’s mouth runs dry when you glance across the room, your smile brightening when your gazes meet. Whatever Hunter’s saying to you seems to go in one ear and out the other as the two of you stare. 

And then the moment shatters as the oven beeps. Breaking away from both Echo’s gaze and Hunter’s conversation, you hurry to the kitchen, disappearing from view. 

“Stare any harder, and she just might catch fire, reg.” Crosshair’s voice is thick with sarcasm, the once-derogatory nickname now familiar and familial. He perches on the edge of the armchair nearby. 

Echo rolls his eyes, taking a sip of hot chocolate to compose his thoughts. He’s relatively certain all his squad knows about his feelings, but Crosshair is the only one who’s broached the subject with him before. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Echo finally grumbles. 

Crosshair scoffs. “You really are a di’kut, you know that?” 

“Be that as it may.” With a pointed glare at his squadmate, Echo jabs his scomp in Crosshair’s direction. “I know that look, Crosshair. Don’t even think about it.” 

Raising one thin eyebrow, Crosshair merely regards Echo with a faint smirk, gnawing on an ever-present toothpick. “Just saying, reg.” 

“Just saying what?” you chime in. 

Echo glances up, startled. Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you approach, having caught the tail end of their conversation. Tucked under one of your arms are oven mitts, decorated with little boughs of holly, and in your other hand you cradle a tray of cookies, crescent moons of dough filled with fruit jam. 

“How good you look in that sweater, dollface,” Crosshair drawls, smirk widening as Echo’s scomp whirs, his agitation bleeding into his neural interface. 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you duck your head. “I’ve had it for ages. One of my favorites.” 

“Well,” Cross says, standing to his full height, tugging the sleeves of his black turtleneck down, “it suits you. Isn’t that right, Ech’ika?” 

Emotions clash and war within Echo. Irritation flares hot and angry at Crosshair’s goading—but it is immediately soothed by the balm of curiosity and wonder as you turn your gaze on Echo, eyes wide and...hopeful? What irks him even more is that Cross isn’t wrong: the sweater may be oversized, but it still drapes over your form in a flattering way, the knit fabric soft and cozy. 

“Y-Yeah,” he says. Di’kut, he kicks himself mentally. “Uh, brings out your eyes.” 

“Thanks,” you say. Then, as if suddenly remembering you’re carrying a platter of baked goods, you hold out the tray. “Oh, um, cookie? This is my grandmother’s recipe. I’ve got apricot, cherry, and blueberry ones.” 

Crosshair plucks a blueberry crescent cookie from the tray, popping it in his mouth before slinking off, an entirely too smug look plastered to his face. Echo glances around for somewhere to set his mug; he’s shattered ceramic on his scomp arm before, the durasteel casing a smidge stronger than most mugs, and he doesn’t care to make too much of a fool of himself in front of you tonight. 

“Oh, here,” you mumble. Balancing the cookie tray on one hand, you hold out your other for the mug. 

With a small smile, Echo hands it over. He’s not sure he’s ever had apricot, but he knows he likes cherries, so he selects one of the morsels with dark red filling. He tries not to be self-conscious about the way you watch him expectantly, eyes trained on the movement of his hand as he brings the cookie to his mouth. The dough is surprisingly flaky, just sweet enough to really accentuate the deeper, woodier flavor of the cherry. Humming in delight, Echo smiles at you around his full mouth. 

“You like it?” you ask, smiling in return. 

He nods. Once his mouth is clear, he says, “Very good. Family recipe, you said?” 

Ducking your head again, you nod. “Yeah, my gramma. She, uh, made these every year for Life Day. I still haven’t quite mastered her chocolate chip recipe yet, though.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” he says. “And I’m always happy to try out the experiments.” 

“Is that right?” you ask. 

A small quirk of your lips draws his eyes down to them for a fleeting heartbeat. He quickly looks away, catching sight of Tech building an accurate-to-scale gingerbread model of the Jedi Temple and Wrecker painting a new decal on his armor. Swallowing thickly, Echo takes a steadying breath. Maker, he went through ARC training; he can hold a conversation with his crush. Right? 

“If you want me to, that is,” he says quickly. 

Your gentle laugh stirs his heart, affection and cuteness aggression pulsing in him. “In that case,” you say, “I’ll be sure to hang on to some whenever you’re on leave.” 

“Good,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, right, thank you. I can take that back now.” 

With a smile you hand back his mug, the ceramic warm from more than just the liquid contents now. Echo forces himself to take several deep breaths, the comforting scents of cinnamon, fruit, and something else, something...sweeter, filling him and easing his embarrassment. 

“Dinner’ll be done soon,” you say as you scoot past the armchair towards the others. 

After dinner, Echo helps you clean up, though you insist on doing it all yourself. Not that you put up much resistance, not with how Wrecker praises your excellent cooking skills and even Tech is admiring the different flavor combinations, cataloging the recipes in his datapad. Hunter gives a knowing look as Echo scoops up what dishes he can; Echo studiously ignores his sergeant. 

“You can put those on the counter there,” you say as you point to an empty space next to you. “Thank the Maker for dishwashers, because if there’s one thing I loathe about cooking, it’s the dishes.” 

“And yet you wanted to do this on your own,” Echo teases. His belly is full, fuller than it’s been in a long time, and he feels warm. Fuzzy. Sated. Well, for the most part. 

“Force of habit,” you muse. 

He lingers in the kitchen, trying to fool himself into believing it’s so he can be nearby to help more, but in reality, he doesn’t want to leave your presence yet. Watching you bustle around the small kitchen, humming to yourself, entranced by the way the red sweater bunches at your elbows, Echo sighs. The war has been so far from his mind tonight, a fact he’s grateful for; but with the night’s activities beginning to wind down, his thoughts return to the incessant rhythm of hyperspace, fight droids, restock, hyperspace, fight droids...

“Echo?” Your soft voice startles him out of his reverie. 

“Sorry, what?” 

You gesture with wide arms at the now (mostly) clean kitchen. “We can go back to the others now.” 

“Oh, right.” He follows you out of the kitchen, back to the living room. Wrecker has Crosshair in a headlock, while Hunter looks on in silent amusement. Tech still sits at the dining table, typing away on his ’pad. 

When Hunter notices you return, he sits up straighter, clearing his throat. “Wrecker. Drop him.” 

“Aw, alright.” Releasing Crosshair, Wrecker shoves him to the edge of the couch, then beams up at you. “This has been a great Life Day, thank you so much.” 

“You’re most welcome,” you say with a warm smile. “I couldn’t not spoil my boys on a holiday like this.” 

Something stirs in Echo’s chest at the way you refer to them as your boys. Kriff, would you be willing to have him be yours, truly yours? 

“Speaking of spoiling!” You clap your hands together. “I have some gifts for you all.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hunter says. 

“I wanted to,” you say simply. 

As you rifle through the wrapped presents beneath the decorated tree, Echo ushers Tech over to the couch, ignoring the man’s protests about needing to finish his notes. Gently pushing Tech down into the empty cushion between Wrecker and Crosshair, Echo remains standing near the arm of the couch. 

You pass out small boxes to each of them. “It’s not much, but...” 

Echo almost regrets that he has to rip through the paper to get to the gift inside, because you clearly took your time wrapping these, the folds crisp and precise, the black and red plaid design seeming to repeat seamlessly to infinity with how neatly you’d cut it. He savors the feel of the paper in his hand for a moment, and, out of curiosity, flips over the gift tag on top. 

His heart skips a beat. In your handwriting, the tag simply reads: “To Echo. From, your favorite nat-born ♥️”. A quick glance over his brothers’ shoulders reveals none of theirs have a heart drawn next to your signature. 

Carefully avoiding your gaze, he finally tears the paper off, then slips the lid off the box. Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, rests a small charm: a domino. More than that, he realizes: five dark impressions mark the charm. Echo’s breath catches. 

“It’s...” He can’t find the words, or even the thoughts, to express the overwhelming rush of emotions crashing through him. Melancholy, affection, reminiscence, appreciation: it all blends together. When he looks up and meets your gaze, he finds your brow pinched in worry. 

“Do you like it?” you ask. 

He can only nod. 

“Oh! A li’l bomb!” Wrecker’s laugh booms through your small apartment. “This one’s goin’ on my blaster.” 

“Great idea, Wreck,” Hunter says, holding up a tiny skull charm, a genuine smile on his face. “Might attach this to my knife.” 

Tech has already secured his charm—a tiny datapad—to his actual datapad. “This is remarkably thoughtful. Thank you.” 

“I made them myself,” you admit. 

Even Crosshair’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and Echo watches as the prickly sniper carefully lifts the small bullseye charm to eye level. 

“Good work,” Crosshair says. 

Echo sighs. It’s as close to a ‘thank you’ as Crosshair can manage without combusting, he supposes. 

“What’s yours, Echo?” Hunter asks. 

“It’s a, uh, domino,” he says. He leaves it in the box; this is his gift, and he doesn’t want to share it just yet. “For my twin.” 

Hunter’s eyes soften in understanding before he looks back to you. “You really outdid yourself, meshl’a. I’m just sorry we didn’t bring anything for you.” 

You hum, finally looking away from Echo. “Spending time with you has been a gift enough.” 

He silently excuses himself to the ’fresher, head still swimming with emotions. Ensuring the door locks, he flips the light on, chuckling to himself at the Life Day tree soap dispenser you’ve invested in for the small space. Splashing some water onto his face, the cold shocks his brain into resetting. Emotions subsiding, Echo pats his face dry, then, meeting his reflection’s gaze, gives himself a silent nod of encouragement. 

The apartment is strangely quiet when he emerges. Peering around the corner into the living room, Echo is surprised to find it empty save for you. You’re curled up on the couch, cradling a mug between both hands, gazing at the tree. 

“Where’d the others go?” he asks. 

Your gaze flits to him without startling, a smile touching your features. “Back to the barracks.” 

“Without me,” he says, voice monotone. 

Humming noncommittally, you shrug with one shoulder. “Do you need to go, too?” 

“I...” He hesitates. Technically, being on leave, he doesn’t have to report in for another two standard rotations. He doesn’t want to intrude on your space any longer than he already has, but stars, you look so beautiful like this, calm, relaxed, comfortable. He can’t resist the desire to stay. “No.” 

“Good, because I have one more thing I want to give you,” you say. Setting your mug on the coffee table, you step around it with practiced ease, your gaze never leaving his. Echo can’t help the way his lips part in surprise as you wrap your arms around him. Your body heat seeps through the thin material of his shirt to envelope him like a blanket. For a moment, he stiffens, and you almost pull away. 

But his brain catches up with his body before you can. Arm sliding around your shoulders, he tugs you firmly against himself. You’re soft against his body, not to mention the sweater, and he sighs, eyes sliding shut. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. Inhaling your scent, he finally identifies what he’s been smelling whenever you’re near: spiced vanilla. Heady and warm, the scent fills his entire being, carrying him up into the stratosphere, floating on clouds. 

“Where’d this come from?” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

“Maybe this is my selfish gift to myself,” you say with a light chuckle. “Realized I—we—haven’t hugged despite being friends for so long. And I suddenly couldn’t go another day without doing this.” 

Heart hammering in his ribcage, Echo gently pulls back to meet your gaze. Biting your lower lip, your eyelids flutter as you peer up at him. Stars, he could count your eyelashes from this proximity, get lost in the texture of your irises, marooned in the harbor of your sweet scent. When his eyes drop to your lips, a glint of gold catches his attention. Further down, around your throat on a delicate golden chain, a second domino tile rests just below the dip of your collarbone, resting on the scoop of the sweater’s neckline. A double blank domino. 

“I hope it’s okay,” you breathe. 

“Beautiful,” Echo murmurs. “Just like you.” 

You capture his lips in a soft, tentative kiss. Fingers trembling where he brushes them over your cheekbone, Echo meets your desire, your passion, with equal fervor. His heart plummets and soars simultaneously, every nerve alight. 

In the morning, after stretching out his muscles and eating a simple but delicious breakfast, he drops a kiss to the crown of your head. You recline on the armchair, holonovel in one hand, looking so at peace that he wishes he could stay. But Tech had comm’d him at first light, requesting his assistance with the ship, so he had to get back. 

“Will you come back before you ship out again?” you ask, standing to follow him to the door. 

He gives you a shy smile. “Only if you come see us off.” 

“Am I even allowed on base?” you ask, surprise in your voice. 

“Probably not,” he shrugs. “But we don’t exactly follow rules. I think an exception can be made this one time.” 

His stomach thrills with butterflies at the soft, pleasant sound of your laugh. Pressing his lips to yours once more, he reaches blindly for the coat rack he knows resides by the front door, where he stashed his jacket last night after arriving. 

His fingers close around empty air. 

With a frown, he pulls back, and sure enough, the coat rack is completely empty. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he takes a deep, steadying breath and counts to five before turning back to you. Confusion paints your expression. 

“Didn’t you—”

“Yes.” He grinds his teeth. “Crosshair.” 

One hand pressing to your mouth, you stifle a smile but can’t keep it from scrunching your eyes. “It’s too cold for you to walk back without a jacket.” 

A thought occurs to him, and the words leave his mouth before he even has time to process them. “Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater?” 

The look of surprise that overtakes your features is adorable, which makes the burning embarrassment that settles in his stomach worthwhile. All he can do is watch as you rush back to your bedroom, and return a moment later carrying the thick, oversized sweater you wore last night. Eyes sparkling, you silently help Echo into the comfortable garment, making sure his scomp doesn’t pierce through the woven fabric. 

Looking down at himself, Echo finds that he quite likes the way that the sweater, so large and cozy-looking on you, fits him so perfectly. And, as he inhales to calm himself down fully, he’s greeted by the wonderful scent you wore last night. 

He hums. “It smells like you.” 

You duck your head, shuffling your feet, an abashed grin on your face. “Something to remember me by, then.” 

“Like I could forget you.” 

“You can’t say things like that when you have to leave,” you say with a teasing smile. Resting one hand on his chest, you lean up and kiss him sweetly. “Go, before I change my mind and keep you here.” 

Echo hums. “Oh no, what a threat.” 

“Go.” You gently push on him. “I expect that sweater back before you leave.” 

“Of course, cyar’ika.” He opens the door, giving you one last fond look. “See you soon.” 

And if, when Echo returns to the Marauder, he “accidentally” misplaces Crosshair’s pack of toothpicks, well, that’s his own business.