#like most of what they file under that heading is stuff i have been able to handle on my own

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[husky-studies]

hello, aventurine with a teen!reader who has a similar past like his?

Concept: Aventurine with a teen!reader who has a similar past

Warnings: mentions of reader having a burn mark, mentions of slavery, mentions of character death (not reader), relationship between the character and reader is strictly platonic!

Notes: Ngl anon you gave me a few ideas so hopefully you're alright with this one :)) and yes I know the stuff the IPC has been doing 😭

The planet you live in is rich with minerals and ores, its no wonder why most of the people there work as a miner. Its also not a surprise to know the planet belongs to the IPC as well. Unfortunately, not many know that the planet's work system is messed up. A lot of kids already worked as a miner and was treated horribly by the leaders. You had been working since you were a child, they had worked you to the point you look like a gust of wind could make you collapse.

A few young miners wanted to find more minerals but ended up making the small mine exploded. A good portion of the miners there dead and the rest fled, only you were left. Left to get the blame pinned on you. You weren't fairing any better. The explosion left a burnt mark on your left eye. The miner's leader was more than mad, he reported you to the IPC for you to get dealt with.

Aventurine got a notice that a mine in a mineral-rich planet was blown up, he was told to hold the trial since both Jade and Diamond is currently busy with other matters. He was expecting someone in their mid-20s or early 30s to do it, but he wasn't expecting a teen to do it. If he was shocked he might've hid it well. He looked into your info file given by the mine leader and then looked at you. You looked smaller than the average teenager should look like, your hair was unkept, your clothes were tattered, and your wrists bound together. You reminded him of his younger self in this position.

"Well kid, have anything to say to defend yourself?" Aventurine asked with his usual business smile. He heard a small whisper from you, although he didn't hear what you said. "What was that?" He asked once again. "I didn't do it." You spoke louder so he could hear you clearly. "It seems like your leader thinks differently, care to explain about it?" He said. Without hesitating, you explained everything. Aventurine has his usual smile on his face as he listen, but the furrow of his eyebrows were a clear hint that he's silently focusing on every word you're saying.

He feels the need to somehow help you out of your situation, so he did the only thing he's good at, gamble. "Let me offer you a deal, i'll flip this coin and if it lands on heads you'll come with me and work with me. But if it lands on tails, i'll send you back to your planet. Do you accept?" He offered. You've heard of his incredible luck but have no idea which side of the coin it will land on. Would the risk be worth it? "I accept." You pray to whatever aeon was up there that the risk was worth the result.

Soon Aventurine flipped the coin and caught it in his fist. Lo and behold, it landed on heads. Aventurine silently sighed in relief, his luck was in his favor yet again and he is able to somewhat help you out of your current situation. You on the other hand looked okay, but you were relieved you would be away from your cursed planet. Although you'll now have to work for Aventurine, it's better than working back there.

"Well, I'll go tell Jade we'll be getting a new recruit. And said new recruit will be working under me. Welcome to the IPC, kid." He said. Even if he doesn't show it, he's glad to know you'll be alright under his watch from now on. You can't help but be curious on whats going to happend to the trial. "Mr Aventurine, what are you going to tell your boss of the result? Would they be okay with this?" You asked. Aventurine just laughed and patted your head "Of course, I have my way with words. Plus I don't think they'd reject someone with good potential. Come with me, let's get you cleaned up." He said as he walked away, you following behind him. Maybe this won't too bad, working for the IPC.

Tags: @mitzukitsuna

[longing-for-the-past-times]

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

[revelboo]

ugh the bluestreak one really makes me feel things. I want to protect him and reassure him and be there for him and hold him and just let him be happy and loved 😭

Thank you for writing these fics the always make my day. I'm curious, do you have plans for the stories or do you come up with stuff as you write?

I have a rough idea where I’m going with these, but I’m not sitting down and outlining these by any means 😅

Where I Belong Pt 5

IDW Bluestreak x Reader

• “You can tell me to shut up, I won’t get mad,” he says watching your little legs swing where you’re stretched out on his desk on your belly, a blanket under you. He’s not allowed back on patrol just yet, but he can still work on the never ending supply of reports to be filed away. A boring enough job, but it’s nice to have you there with him. Someone to talk to as he works the datapad with one hand and drapes the other against your shoulders and back so you’re not shivering. You’re always worryingly cold and he likes the contact, the reminder that you’re there. That he’s not alone.

• Eyes closing as a servo presses between your shoulders, rubbing almost absentmindedly, you soak in the warmth of his touch. “You’re not bothering me,” you reassure him again. Because it’s apparent that he’s used to being told to stop talking and that makes you dearly want to slap someone. For being so big, being able to hurt you so easily, he’s shockingly careful with you like he’s afraid of accidentally breaking you. “I like your stories.” And you do, because it’s like he has years worth of anecdotes and stories he’s just been waiting to share. And he gets so excited about them, like a big kid. It’s adorable.

• “I’m sorry again that you can’t leave the Ark,” he mutters, watching from the corner of his optic as you glance at him. “You’re trapped here because of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” It’s not fair to you that he took your freedom away without even asking because he’d been terrified. Clinging to you, pleading to not be left alone. And you’d stayed, reached out to him in return. He doesn’t know if it was only pity, but it means everything to him.

• Every worried word just melts your heart a bit more. “I chose to stay and I don’t regret it.” Pushing against his palm until he moves his big hand so you can climb to your feet and walk closer to him, head tipping back to meet those blue optics. Seeing the uncertainty there, the guilt. “I like it here.” With you. And you do. You like his company even if you’re essentially on alien house arrest. Makes you wonder what your boss thought when you just blipped off the face of the earth, house abandoned and destroyed. Maybe no one has even noticed you’re missing yet. Or cared. You’d been alone and okay with that, but Bluestreak needs you and it feels good to be needed.

• He’s reaching before he can think better of it, servos curling around you, but stopping short of actually touching you. Silently asking permission, if it’s okay. And your smile is amused as you take a little sideways step to press against his palm, allowing him to pick you up. So small and warm as he lifts you against him under his chin, against his neck where the mesh is most sensitive so he can feel you there. Reassuring himself. “Thank you,” he says, trying to not cling too tightly, but never wanting to let go. Knowing that like everyone else, no matter what you say now, you’ll get tired of him. You’ll leave him too. Everyone does in the end, but for now he can pretend.

Previous

Next

[mmimagine-40]

Pup pt. 7

Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!FReader

Warnings: Talks of abuse , being forced a pound, strong cursing towards a person, talks of guns being pointed at reader.

----------------------------------------------

Brock growled as he watched from the woods as Y/n. Standing far enough away to not be noted as he watched them with binoculars. His wife was being helped and held close to this alpha. Watching them as the Alpha helped her back into his house. The grip on the binoculars was tight as they even cracked like they were going to break under the alphas grip.

Brock wanted to just forget Y/n. She was worthless anyways. He tried to play the nice guy. As his family is getting looked in hard about some shady business. He needed to make sure Y/n trusted him to not tell about the ways of the group. Its why he held off mating her after their marriage. He tried to warm her up and get her to agree to the mating. But she was holding out too long. Brock had needs and this omega was holding out on him. He was losing his temper. Finding his relieve in other omegas. His breaking point was finally her heat came and she refused to have him around her. Locking herself in a room and denying his claiming attempts. He snapped, yelling at her and trying to hold her down. But she got away and got out of the house running. He was going to let her till his father yelled at him to go after her and drag her back here. Now he's been out here for months trying to get this fucking omega back. But she always got away.

Grumbling again he garbed his state out stuff as he headed back in town. It was time to do something about this alpha who was holding his wife from him.

Unknown to Brock there were eyes on him watching him. Watching as he stormed away. A set of beta eyes as he was scoping out the forest after getting reports of hunters in the woods while it wasn't any season for hunting. The beta watched as the alpha walked away back towards the town. Before he backed up and headed back to the ATV. He graded the radio as he paged into the sheriffs office. "This is officer Maximoff. Paging for Sheriff Wilson.".

"Sheriff Wilson Speaking. What you got Pietro?"

"I have eyes on that Alpha you said to keep a look out for. Spotted him outside of Rogers property. Seeming to be watching or stalking the property. He just cleaned up and headed back to Town."

"Good work Maximoff. Finnish your route and head back.".

-

The two days Sam sent the Maximoff twins off to town to check out if the town heard or saw this alpha around. "Got what did y'all get?". Sam asked as he sat down at his desk looking for the small file he started after Steve informed him about the alpha that might become a problem in town. "Most of the town people have seen him. Said he's been walking around asking about an omega. To the description that Steve gave us. He also has been asking about Steve. But most of the towns people said they gave him no information as he seemed very sketchy about the omega.". Wanda read out all the information she wrote down that she got from different towns people. "And I talked to Old Man John. He said that the alpha was asking about the closest store to be able to buy some camping equipment." Pietro also said as he read the reports he got. Sam nodded as he made quick notes about everything. "Good Work you two. Lets keep a close eye out for this guy. I'm not liking how this is sounding.". Sam said as he finished the file before putting it away. "Pietro head back into town doing rounds. Keep an eye out for him and an hear out if anyone has an problems with him." Sam dismisses them both. Pietro heads out to do this rounds. As Wanda makes her way to the desk. Filing reports and doing check up on certin things.

When a bit later she hears the dig of someone walking into the sheriffs office. She looks up smiling to greet the person. Her smile almost flutters as she sees the Alpha but she keeps herself composed. Trying to hold back her shivers as he walks over to the desk. She can just feel he is bad news. "Hi , welcome to the sheriffs office. How can I help you?". Brock smiled sadly at her. "Hi , I was wondering if the sheriff was in or there is an officer I can talk to?". Wanda nodded as she turns to face him more. "The Sheriff is in. I can go get him for you. But can I ask what this is about?". "There is an alpha in town I'm afraid is holding my wife against her will". Brock told her as he looks down very distressed. Wanda slightly pouted playing up being sad for him as she told him she will get the sheriff for him. If he wanted to take a seat while he waited. The smile falling as she turned away. The alpha tried to pay up the vicitm but the anger was still pouting out of him. Poking through the distressed feeling smells he tried to play out.

Wanda walked over to Sam's office knocking lightly before walking in and shutting the door behind her. "Sir He's here". Sam's head looked up at her surprised. "He? As in Brock Rumlow? the alpha that Steve told us about?". "Yes, said he's here to talk to you about an alpha holding up his wife". Wanda informed him. Sam nodded as he gestured for Wanda to go. "Tell him I will be with him in a second I need to make some calls.".. Wanda nodded as she headed back out. Putting the smile back on her face as she told Brock that the sheriff will be with in a bit.

Sam quickly called Steve. Informing him about what is happening.

--Meanwhile--

Y/n was starting to feel better a little bit. The meds were helping and she was getting use to the crouches. Even helping out Steve were she can. Like sitting and cutting up veggies for dinner and so on. Right now her and Steve were packing and going through his office as he was turning it into a bedroom for Y/n. Even though she said not to. He thought it would be good anyways. She had somewhere to stay till she was back on her feet and then he would have a spare room for friends and family. Plus he didn't use the office anyways. Which was made evident as the office mainly only had packed up boxes. Mostly with stuff like old pictures and stuff Steve just hasn't found a place for.

"Whos this?" Y/n asked. She was sat on a chair as she helped Steve go through some of the stuff to figure out where he would store it. When she came across a compass with a picture of a pretty brunette in it in his desk. Steve looked over as his heart fell a bit seeing the compass. He moved over as he gently took the compass and looked at the picture. "Her names Peggy." Steve said as he sadly smiled at the picture. "Shes...an old friend.". Y/n looked up at him as her eyebrows fall in a sadden look. She can see that look on Steve's face that girl was something more. A look of a deep love. One described in those old romance books. "Just an old friend?". Steve looked back at her as he closed the compass and set it down. A confused look as his eyebrow was raised. "Oh come on Steve. Friends don't look at Friends like that.". Steve sighed as he turned away to sort out some other stuff. "Yes... I was in love with her. .. We were high school sweethearts. She was a Beta but I didn't care. Never been an alpha to care about that shit. I thought she was the one. My one and only. But she moved away. Back home to England as she went to a university over there. so we broke up not able to handle the distances". Y/n softly from sadden for Steve as he seemed to have really loved this girl. "Why didn't you ever go after her?". Steve stopped as he looked down. Only knowing each other a few days. But it seems y/n could read him. Able to tell he wasn't one to give up like that. Especially on love.

"I did.". Steve said softly as he moved to face her again. Leaning back on a smaller shelf behind him. As he crossed his arms sighing as he looked down. "we kept in contact. I worked hard in college and took all the classes I could to graduate early. And once I did I bought a ticket and headed off to England. But when I got there I was too late.". "Too Late?" , Y/n asked watching him. "She moved on. Found a nice beta guy. He was in school working to be a veterinarian. Real nice guy. Treated her like a royalty. What she deserved. She felt bad not telling me. But seeing how she looked at him.... I knew. She moved on. and fell in love with an amazing guy. So I let her go. Headed back home and tried to forget her.". Y/n nodded as she watched the emotions go through Steve. After a moment Y/n spoke up again. "Do you still love her?".

Steve's head snapped up as he looked at Y/n. His eyes ran over her face. As he tried to pick up on her emotions. seeing how she felt about it. But she looked a bit relaxed. Happy to see that Steve was happy. And a little bit sad for Steve's heartbreak. He smiled softly as he looked at her. Caught himself as he noted he wasn't really focusing on her feelings about the situation but more wanting to see her be jealous almost. "No....Not anymore.".

Y/n tries biting back the smile as Steve looks at her. That look that he had when looking at her. It was a soft warm look. One that looking into maybe everything feel like its okay. like a warm , safe place.

There go back to working on cleaning out the room when Y/n excused herself to go to the bathroom. While she was gone , Steve's phone rang. Steve looked confused to see Sam calling him. "Hey Sam what's up?". "Red Star". Steve's heart drops as he used to code name They made up. Steve looked out the door to see Y/n barley getting to the bathroom. A bit slow on the crouches. He softly closed the door before he told Sam to talk as the coast was clear. "Your Alpha guy. Brock. He's here in the office. Asking to talk to me. Apparently he is trying to spin the story that his wife is being held against her will. I haven't fully talked to him yet. That's just what Wanda got from him. But I wanted to call to warn you as when I go out there, I have duty as the sheriff to take this serious and check it out.". Sam warned Steve. "I understand Sam. Thank you for calling me...I have an idea to throw him off. But I don't trust that he won't get upset and do something stupid.". Steve told him. "Don't worry about that I'm having Pietro come for back up along with Bucky. Just keep an hear open, i'm sure we will be up there shortly.". "Alright, thanks again Sam.". Steve said before hanging up with Sam. He sighed as he tossed his phone the side as he hung his head low , shaking his head.

"Steve? ..Everything okay?" Y/n asked as she walked/limped back into the room. Steve sighed again taking a sec before looking back at her. Knowing he needs to tell her. "Y/n.. Something happen or is going to happen i need to prepare you for.". Y/n's eyes scrunched together confused at Steve's very serious face as he helped her to sit back down in the chair. Steve crouched down to be face to face with her. "Brock went to the sheriffs saying I am holding you against your will." "What?" Y/n asked as her heart fell as she started to get scared. Steve took her hands trying to clam her. "He's spinning a tale that I'm holding you against your will, The sheriff is a buddy of mine. He told he was there and that he will have to come here to check on you and hear from you that you want to be here. Now I don't trust that Brock will take that and he will try something... So I have an idea to get him to act out and get arrested. But I need you to trust me." Y/n nodded as she took a deep breath trying to clam herself as she listened to him. "I trust you Steve" Steve softly smiled at her as he gently strokes her hands as he holds them. "The fake mark I gave you the other day.... let me scent it up again as it will seem like I just mated you. Which will probably piss him off.". Y/n nodded as she looked down nervously. Steve watched her trying to read her. "I don't have to if you don't feel comfortable.". Y/ns eyes snapped back up to Steve's. "No! .. sorry no, that's not.. I'm not uncomfortable about the fake mark...Its just....I'll have to face Brock won't I?". Steve fights back the smile as he want's to beam hearing her almost, excitement to have his mark on her , even if it was fake. He looked down composing himself. "Yes, but I'll be by your side the whole time. I promise". Y/n looked down for a second thinking before looking back to Steve nodding. As she agree to it.

Steve pulls back from Y/ns neck as he rebite the mark softly and scenting it. trying to hold back his alpha growl as he hers her softly whimper under him. Thoughts again filling his heads of her as a mate. Finally pulling back as he hears a knock at the door. The scents of Sam and that alpha Brock at the door. He looked at Y/n who looked a bit scared but once she looked back at Steve as he still held her face she calmed down nodding that she was ready. Steve told her to stay there till he called her.

Steve made his way to the door taking a breath before he opened the door. Smiling at Sam. "Sheriff , Hi. What can I do for you?". Sam nodded as he stood on the porch of the cabin Brock was stood down the steps of the porch. looking very pissed off as he looked Steve up and down. "Evening Steve. Sorry to bug you but this gentleman here said that his Wife is being held against her will here. So I need to check in. Is someone named Y/n Rumlow or Y/n L/n here?". Steve nodded as he called for Y/n. Who used the crouches to walk over. Setting them to the side as she leaded on Steve a bit. Asking whats going on with a slight smile. Trying to act like she doesn't see Brock. Who at this was fumming. "Evening Ma'am. Are you Y/n?" Y/n nodded as she looked at the Sheriff Sam. He was an alpha. But had the sweetest and kindest smile and look in his eyes. "Well ma'am I have a Mr. Brock Rumlow who said he is your husband and that you are being held against your will. Is that true?". Y/n's eyes cut back to Brocks. Normal his look would scare her a lot. Knowing what he can do to her. But stand next to Steve and meeting the people like Bucky and Nat. She felt more powerful to be able to get away from him. "No I'm not being held against my will. Mr.Rumlow is my ex husband. I am trying to get a divorce from.". "A divorce! Like hell! We arn't getting a divorce! You are my wife! You are mine! Even if you whored yourself out to this alpha you are still mine! Now lets go Y/n!" Brock growled as he made his way up the stairs and over.

Sam turned and pushed him back. "Mr. Rumlow! Back down now!" Brock growled as he push Sam down the stairs as he reached back into his back of his pants. Pulling out a gun as he pointed it at Y/n. Demanding her to come with him now if she doesn't want to really be hurt. Steve pushed Y/n Behind him as he stared Brock down. Who just smirked. "Even better I'll kill you and that sheriff and take mine Omega back." But as he said that he could hear the sounds of guns cocking behind him. He turned as he sees the sheriff standing with a gun pointed at him. Along with a Beta and an Alpha next to him pointing shotguns at him. As he was distracted Steve stepped in twisting his hand back to take his gun and pointing it back at him.

Sam cuffed the Alpha and walking him to the cop car as he read him his rights as he had Pietro take both Steve and Y/n's statement.

After some time Pietro got all that he needed letting Y/n and Steve go. "Pietro, Send the file to Tony Stark after everything is filed"

_--------------------------------

I know this was long! I just couldn't stop writing this part! I hope you enjoy. If you wish to be on the tag list for this story please let me know. As well as I am thinking of having Tony , Peter and Pepper in the next one. What do you think they should be? My idea is Omega Tony and Peter and then Alpha! Pepper. -MM

[spiderymiasma]

🕸 Five Times.... || Miguel x f!Spider (2/5)

Summary: Gwen sees how Miguel takes it upon himself to comfort you.

//Five Times They Weren't Alone and One Time They Were.

Words: 2.0k

Tags: Comfort Fic, Overprotectiveness, Slight Angst, Mutual Pining, Eventual Kissing, Pre-relationship, Flirting, Dating, Fluff, Wholesome

A/N: A continuation of my 5 Times Series. Use of "Charlotte Webb" as a placeholder for y/n

|| My AO3 || Part 1 Here

2. Gwen Stacy

One thing was for certain, if you wanted anything from Miguel…

 …..you went to Charlotte first.

Gwen spun around in one of the swivel chairs in the other Spiderwoman's office, kicking her new stolen shoes idly.  “Sooooooo….it’s been a while since I’ve seen Miles, with all the extra work Miguel is making us do." She pouted dramatically.  "Can I pllllease get time off to go visit his dimension?  Just for a couple of days?”

The older Spiderwoman's soften as she looked at the teen fondly.  Unlike Miguel, it seems as though his right hand woman had a soft spot for the younger Spiders. 

“Did you finish all your missions?”

“Yup!”

“Did you file all the paperwork Miguel wanted?”

Gwen internally winced.  Well, if you stretch the definition of words like “paperwork” and “what Miguel wants”, then yes she technically did sort of do it.

“Yup.”  She popped her p.

She chuckled, clearly not buying Gwen’s shenanigans.  “Of course you can go visit Miles-“

Gwen perked up.  She didn’t actually think she’d get a yes, already mentally resigning to the fact she’d have to sneak out right under Miguel's nose.

“-right after you get the green light from Miguel, of course”

Gwen slumped over, defeated, all the bravado completely drained.

Getting Miguel to let Gwen do anything was like getting Charlotte and Miguel to admit their feelings for each other.

Mathematically impossible.

What would Hobie do in her shoes?

Gwen lifted her head, playing with a strand of her hair.  “You know, you shouldn’t let guys like Miguel boss you around like this.  I mean, you’re the Spiderwoman everyone looks up to around here.  Are you really going to let a man tell you what you can and cannot do?”

She blinked.  “Gwen, he's literally both of our bosses.”

The teen huffed, dejected.  “You know, Spiderwoman to Spiderwoman, this whole affair is a real loss to feminism.”

She snorted, done with these childish games.  “Gwen, ask Miguel.”

Well, shit.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Miguel, like always, was not in the mood for Gwen's shenanigans.  “What do you want?  Can’t you see I’m busy?”

"Can I take some time off to go visit Miles?"  Gwen leisurely strolled around the room, touching, poking, and prodding at all the fancy science gear.

She knew that Miguel got antsy (Ha!) whenever anyone but Charlotte touched his stuff, but he didn't even give Gwen the decency to look even mildly annoyed.  "Go ask Charlotte, I'm busy."

She sighed, flopping her hands in front of her dramatically.  "She asked me to ask you."

"Then no." 

"Ughh, Miguel!"

"Go back to Charlotte, and tell her I told you to ask her."  Miguel stated, his words clipped in a very "and that's final" dad voice.  Gwen internally groaned.  It was a long trek back to the other Spider's office.  “It's like a billion miles away, Miguel.  It's crazy that you two don't have your offices next to each other.”

His fingers paused in their work, momentarily distracted.  Miguel toyed with the idea.  How nice would it be to be able to see her beaming smiles, the small crinkle in her eyes, her laughter as she gossiped with Lyla.  He could picture it now: the quiet moments in the dead of the night as they worked in comfortable silence together, her woops and hollers whenever they made a scientific breakthrough in whatever fun project they had together, the blazing passion in her eyes whenever they argued over the most inane subjects.

Miguel chewed on his bottom lip.  It would be nice getting to see her every day by his side, knowing that she was safe next to him.  Miguel could easily spend his whole day just watching her work whether in the office or in the field.

Gwen cleared her throat politely.  Miguel blinked out of his daze, almost forgetting that the annoying teen had even showed up to his office. “She’s distracting-I mean-it’s an distraction for me when other people are here.”

Gwen raised an arced eyebrow.  "Peter and Mayday are here like…all the time."

"Against my will.  Charlotte is the only one to have the manners to respect my privacy."

Gwen scowled.  Adults sucked.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

After begging, pleading, and whining, the other Spiderwoman did eventually fold and allow Gwen a two week vacation to go visit Miles.  Two weeks had come and gone in the blink of an eye.  Though she wished she could have spent more time with her boyfriend friend, she eagerly made a beeline straight to Charlotte's office.  She couldn't wait to gossip with her about her time with Miles.

With a skip in her step, Gwen didn't notice how the door to the older Spider's office was already ajar.  Her good mood made her blind to the muted blues and black watercolors that had painted the air around the entranceway. 

Silently cracking the door open further, Gwen paused in the doorway, not expecting to see the sight in front of her.  The usual joyous yellows and bright colors seeped into the walls of the room had dissipated, now replaced with muted blotched blue.  The other Spiderwoman was crumpled into a ball on the floor.  She could hear the quiet sobs of a woman trying to hide her sorrows in her hands. 

And for some reason, Miguel was here.

It was weird to see Miguel of all people comforting her.  Indeed, the big strong man looked so awkward.  As if he had no idea where to put his hands or what words to say.  His big hulking form was hunched over her protectively, completely shielding her from the rest of the word.  His arms hovered around her form as if terrified over the thought of touching her and yet unable to help himself otherwise.

"I'm sorry Mig, I shouldn't be troubling you with this."  She sniffed, voice thick with sorrow.  "It's just the anniversary of…you know…his death-"

"I know, I know,"  Miguel said phrases in Spanish too quick for Gwen to even understand.  Charlotte let out a rather wet laugh through her sobs.  No doubt, laughing at a joke Miguel told her.

Which…honestly made Gwen's stomach twist into knots.  She shouldn't be here.  It was one thing to see Charlotte like this.  But seeing Miguel so caring and vulnerable was…

….well she shouldn't be here.

Charlotte's eyes were a blotchy red.  God, she probably looked so horrendous to him.  "M-miguel, you shouldn't be here.  You always have so much on your plate.  You shouldn't have to worry yourself dealing with my stupid bullshit."

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at her words.  "Chiquita, no te voy a dejar solo así (I'm not going to leave you alone like this)."

Blessed with a sudden burst of confidence, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek, carefully avoiding pricking her with his talons.  Miguel wiped away her tears so gently it almost seemed like he was a completely different person.  "Mi Cielito (My sky), you're safe.  I'm here.  I won't like anything bad happen to you."

The cordial professional boundaries that they put between the both of them flew out of the window.  She slid forward, burying her face into his shoulder.  She inhaled shakily, trying to stem the flow of tears.  Miguel's presence was so soothing.  His warmth seeped through his skin into hers.

Gingerly, he shuffled on the couch, wrapping his arm around her.

Gwen, now satisfied that her friend (boss?) was well supported, gingerly tip toed out of the entranceway. 

It was about time those two love bugs (Ha) got their act together.  She couldn't wait to tell Pav.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Charlotte didn't know how long they sat on the floor of her office together.  With only the steady rise and fall of Miguel's breathing keeping time, it could have been minutes or hours.  The once blurry dark world sharpened and refocused whenever she was with Miguel.  Blotchy inky blues that had settled in the room slowly faded away.

She sniffed gingerly.  It was too embarrassing to lift her head from Miguel's shoulder to look at him in the eye.  "I'm…I'm sorry.  God this is embarrassing, you're not supposed to see me like this."

For some reason, it stung to hear those words come out of her mouth: "not supposed to see me like this".  Had she been crying like this often?  All smiles and arrogance during the day, have they simply been another mask she wore?  To hide the tears that she had at night? 

Though Miguel couldn't judge her too harshly.  How often would he look at pictures of his daughter just to torture himself with a life that would never be his?

Well, it was time that she stopped moping on the floor.  "Come on, let's get you straightened out." Before she could protest, he leaned over, hooking one of his arms under the crook of her knee.  She gasped, momentarily off balance, throwing her arms around Miguel's thick neck.  He scooped her up in his arms, picking her up bridle style.  Miguel was trying his hardest to not touch her so familiarly that it would border on unprofessionalism.

Because really he would do this for any of the Spiders.  Like..well, certainly not Miles, or Peter but..well..

…well he definitely would…

Her shaking stopped.  The arms around his neck remained in place, selfishly not wanting to let go of him any time soon.  Miguel's chest was so warm against her.  She could feel his rapid heartbeat, a comforting presence against her cheek.  In his arms, she felt safe.

He didn't need to be able to look down at her to sense the rising blush on her face.  "Thank you, Miguel."  Her words were so soft, he could barely hear her.  "I'm sorry to put you in this position.  You're a good friend."

Miguel swallowed thickly.  That's right.  That's what they were: friends.  There was a million reasons why they couldn't be anything more than that. 

Though for the life of him, he couldn't come up with any.

She was so warm against him, a comforting reminder that he was still very much human.  It was like he was in a trance, as he carried her over to the couch.  How many times did he carry his wife to bed, as she sleepily cuddled against him?  How many times did he carry his daughter like this after she had fallen asleep in the middle of playing with her dolls?

"Are you okay?" she asked, snapping him out of his daze.  He could feel the featherlight brush of her lips against his chest as she spoke.

He tried to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.  He had got to stop daydreaming about her around people.  "I should be asking you that."  His voice was surprisingly soft and gentle. 

Gently (and reluctantly), he placed her on the couch in her office.  His eyes softened as he watched tuck her legs close to her chest, curling into a tight ball.

"Thank you.  I'm..better now.  I'm sorry for troubling you.  You don't have to stay with me."

Miguel stopped himself from pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.  If there was anyone in this whole building who knew what it was like to have the painful flashbacks, the nightmares, the dark memories...  He sighed, running his fingers through his wavy brown hair. 

He knew what it was like to sleep in a bed that was too large and too empty.  In a house that once held so much life and joy.  He knew what it was like to be alone.

Gingerly, he sat on the couch next to her.  Her head was so close to his thigh.  He resisted the urge to put her head in his lap.  "Go to sleep, mi corazón.  I'll be here to watch over you."

Her eyelids were heavy.  Crying her eyes out in front of her crush was more exhausting than battling the Vulture.  "Please, Miguel, you don't have to."

"No, I don't." Miguel agreed, his voice firm and steady.  "I want to.  Now go to sleep.  I'll be here when you wake."

Too tired to protest any future, she nodded sleepily.  As she drifted off into unconsciousness, she felt a familiar large palm resting on her head, comforting her even in her dreams. 

Part 1 Here

To Be Continued!

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 9

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual conversations. guys... we're so close. SO CLOSE!

The barrier had been broken and routines began to shift around the apartment as the two of you continued to get comfortable with each other. Emily started staying out in the living room when she would hear your alarm go off on work mornings, she’d time it just right so that the coffee was hot and fresh the moment you got out of the shower. You’d usually brief through your day with her, go through any surgeries you had, especially if you were worried about something. She took it all in and always asked the right kind of questions that helped your brain work around the issues, and you were impressed with just how well she understood most of it.

You’d come home to a quiet apartment while Emily slept, drop your stuff off and then head to the gym most days to make sure you weren’t waking her up, so she got proper sleep. Dinner was usually ready as soon as she was getting up and the two of you would be able to eat together, usually on the balcony as the sun went down. You’d had life chats, tell old stories, stupid jokes, laughter filled the space rather than tension. Emily knew just how to get you to tell a story about your childhood, something relating to family or your mom without you realizing what she was doing, and in turn it was never a sad memory. You discovered Emily was a whiz at poker, but you were the breadwinner when it came to blackjack, that she preferred paranormal horror movies, and you were the one that always cried over cheesy romantic comedies.

There was finally starting to be a balance between the two of you, she wasn’t snarky because you were her doctor and thus caretaker anymore, and you didn’t have to babysit any longer. You took care of each other, Emily holding up her end of the deal by always making sure there were home cooked baked goods to snack on while you made sure vegetables made it into dinner. Emily made the promise to only smoke if you were also smoking, which rarely happened but there was the occasional night that you were having a rough go and needed more than a glass of wine to help cope with everything and there was nothing wrong with that.

**

You were in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, surprised that Emily hadn’t been in the living room when you’d gotten up that morning. But it would make sense that she just got tired early and decided to marathon tv in bed instead so she didn’t fall asleep on the couch. You were about to toss her breakfast sandwich into a container when the coffee machine beeped loudly and a few seconds later she was coming out of her room.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath, “sorry. I thought I’d wake up when your alarm went off.”

You looked at her curiously for a moment before your lips twitched up into a smirk, “did you just sleep through the night?”

She stilled, an almost guilty expression on her face, “uh… yeah.” She laughed softly, “guess having to get up early with you to go into the hospital kinda fucked my daytime sleeping thing up.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, pulling down an extra mug to fill with her coffee, “so I take it the new med adjustment is working?”

“How’d you know about that?” She asked, stepping into the kitchen to accept the steaming beverage and you chuckled.

“I’m still your doctor. I took a look at your scans from yesterday and with that came your file.” You grabbed another plate from the cupboard, putting the extra sandwich on it, “glad it’s working. You wanna eat outside?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, “thanks. And uh, another question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“PT said I should bump up my activity now, and I kinda liked getting out in the morning, the city’s quieter. Do you think it’d be okay for me to tag along with you on your way to work more often?”

 “Yeah, of course.” You replied with a smile, “it’s a lot nicer to not do it alone.”

“You’re a life saver.” She let out a breath, “and I wouldn’t like, follow you around at work or wait for you or anything, probably just grab a coffee and wander back here.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even want to see another hospital again.” You replied back with a laugh, relief washing over you when she laughed even harder, shaking her head at you as she picked up her plate, nudging you toward the balcony.

Emily liked her new morning commute, even if it wasn’t starting her workday, it gave her something to do, a proper reason to get out of bed and a way to feel a bit more like a real person again. Most days she’d split off from you a few blocks from the hospital before picking up a coffee or tea to do her people watching in different areas of the city. She’d meander around as the shops opened, checking things out and usually pick up a lunch on the way back home from a local vendor. If she found something she really loved, she’d pick it up again the next day and drop one off at the hospital for you, her way of saying thank you, and apologizing for being the worst patient and roommate you’d ever had.

**

On days that you didn’t work, the two of you avoided the metro at peak times, opting for lazy mornings with later breakfasts and extended cups of coffee. Some days you played tourist, checking out the sights of the city, other days you just wandered around together. On the rare occasion you had more than three days off in a row you were able to rent a car and head outside the city limits to explore a little bit further.

Some days Emily would join you at the gym, eager to get herself back to the shape she was in prior to everything going down. While she knew it would likely take more than a few months, she had to start somewhere, focussing on strengthening what her PT from the hospital said and taking it up a few notches higher. She did prefer to just use the time you went to the gym to work out at home, she wasn’t the gym type, never had been, but she couldn’t exactly store everything she needed in the small, shared space.

On lazier days, days you were too tired or unmotivated to do anything sometimes Emily would wander alone, some days she would keep you company while you showed her your favourite movie series. And some days, you ended up down the road at one of the smaller pubs where you could swap out the usual wine for cocktails and pretend like you were being social with other people.

Which was exactly where you were tonight. A basket of fries sitting between the two of you on the bar top while you sipped on drinks. You were seated at the shorter side of the bar, parallel to the space behind the bar, partially so Emily could have her back to the wall and partially because it gave you both the full view of the room. While chatting with the bartender or watching the sports game was fine, you’d both discovered that watching the other patrons was more entertaining.

“It’s got to be a full moon or something.” Emily muttered; her eyes fixed across the room.

“People are particularly wild tonight.” You replied, snagging another fry from the basket.

“I honestly thought that guy was gonna get a glass to the face.”

“It’s what happens when you hit on someone else’s girlfriend like that.” You replied with a shrug, “he was relentless.”

“And the girl’s boyfriend was twice the size of him, what’d he think was gonna happen?” She laughed, pulling one from you as the bartender came over to check on you, offering another round of drinks that you accepted.

“God I can’t believe I used to be that young and dumb. I couldn’t even imagine doing half the shit we’ve seen tonight at our age.”

“We’ve turned into spinsters.” She replied dryly, “it’s honestly amazing we’re out of the house on a Friday night anyways.”

“Yeah but I’m far too lazy to make my own mojitos.” You paused to thank the bartender for the refill, taking a hefty swig.

“I’ll drink to that.” She tilted her glass toward you and you clinked it with yours. “This group at ten o’clock?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes scanned through the room, following her direction until you found them.

“Girl in the pink’s been getting hit on by green shirt and blue shirt all night. Who’s she going home with?”

“Hmm...” Your lips wrapped around your straw for another sip as you surveyed the situation, spinning your own theories onto things, watching the group dynamics.

“Green shirt’s managed to get pretty touchy without any shying away.”

“Yeah but he’s buying her drinks, I’d put up with the flirting for free shit too. Besides, blue’s hotter.”

“You think?” She looked over at you and you shrugged.

“I’m mean, I wouldn’t fuck him, but if I had to pick between the two of them…” you gestured vaguely towards him and Emily tilted her head in recognition.

“He’s too shy.” She muttered, watching the man in blue, “doesn’t have the balls to flirt with her when green’s around and he doesn’t care who sees.”

“Yeah, but that’ll pay off in the long run.”

“How?”

“Green’s a partier, a fuck boy, he may be flirting with her but he keeps eye fucking everything with a pulse when he thinks she’s not looking. Nice guys don’t always finish last, ya know.” You teased with a smirk and she scoffed, “besides, look at the scar on the back of green’s leg.” Emily’s eyes flicked to the back of his knee, “that’s fresh. I’m sure he’s supposed to be wearing a brace but thought it wasn’t cool, he’s probably still on the painkillers. He’s what?” You eyeballed him for a minute, “5’8’’, 160? With the amount he drank in the last hour, he’ll be three sheets to the wind in the next twenty.”

Emily pulled her gaze away from the group, surveying you for a minute as she took a sip of her drink and then let out a huff, “fuck, sometimes I forget you’re a doctor and you can do shit like that.” You laughed, “my money’s still on drunk-y.”

“Alright.” You replied with a grin and the two of you laughed before distracting yourselves with another group to people watch.

It was almost exactly twenty minutes later when Emily’s eyes circled back over to the original group and she let out a quiet swear. The girl was sitting in a separate booth from her friends, next to blue who had his arm against the back of the booth. Green was attempting to dance with another girl, stumbling so hard the bouncer was already on his way to escort him outside.

“Fuck.” She glanced up to the bartender who was halfway through a conversation with you, “put her next one on my tab.”

“Huh?” You glanced over to her and she nodded in the direction she’d been looking and you burst out a laugh. “Told ya.”

By the time that round of drinks had been finished, blue had made his move and the two of them had yet to stop making out across the bar.

“Jesus Christ.” Emily muttered, “they really don’t care that they’re in public, do they?”

“They’ve gotta come up for air sometime.” You replied and she laughed, “god...” you sighed, your elbow dropping onto the bar top so you could prop your chin up in your hand, “to be that young and just not give a shit….”

“Oh I remember the days.”

“Fondly?”

“Most of the time they make me cringe, I won’t lie. Half of it was likely just to piss off my mother.”

“They really are going to town…” your brow furrowed, “is his hand up her skirt?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Good for them.” You huffed, “lord knows it’s been ages since my last good make out.”

“Yeah?” Emily raised a playful brow, “how long.”

“Well…” you chewed on your lip for a moment, “my ex and I broke up like…almost a year before I moved here...”

“A year?!” She exclaimed, “wait… how long was I under for?”

“Just shy of a month.” You replied, taking another sip of your drink, “got here early March.”

“October is next week!”

“You don’t have to remind me.” You stated with a laugh, picking up the shot Emily had ordered earlier and throwing it back.

“Okay, but relationships fizzle out, you stop having sex near the end of them, sometimes for months. Please tell me you at least had a couple hook ups after that.”

“Nope. Too heartbroken, then too busy with work.”

“So how long for that?”

“I don’t even want to think about it.” You chuckled, “this conversation is making me feel very shrivelled up but the saving grace is that I know you haven’t touched a soul in at least eight months so I feel a little better about that.”

“Glad I could be of service.” She laughed, saluting you before signalling for another round, “you know, there’s a sex toy shop that’s open late around the corner, you could pick something up.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, “that one of your weekly shopping destinations?”

Emily scoffed, “no! And in my defence, I thought it was a lingerie boutique, figured since I don’t have anything that’s actually my style, I might want to pick something up. Went inside and nope, dildos, everywhere. And a very awkward conversation with the clerk.”

“Yeah? What’d’ya buy?” You asked with a grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Emily teased you right back, laughter filling the space between you as the bartender placed down another round of shots.

**

You were sitting at the breakfast bar, laptop in front of you and completely unaware that Emily was already out of the shower.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, the tease very present in her voice and you jumped, practically slamming the laptop closed.

“Nothing.”

“Oh c’mon.” She laughed, flipping it back open, “it’s not like I didn’t already see, I watched you click through three options.” You felt the heat creeping up on your cheeks as she braced herself on the counter, hand half wrapped around you as she peered over your shoulder. “Why bother ordering online, just go to that shop.”

“Well after the raving review you gave I figured an in-person sale might be incredibly awkward. Plus the wrapping isn’t usually discreet and then you’d know exactly what I’d bought and I don’t need that.”

“Did you seriously move across an ocean and not bring any with you, or are you one of those girls who just doesn’t use them?” She asked, her hip coming to lean against the counter as her arms crossed.

“I moved to Paris for an indefinite amount of time, of course I brought some.” You deadpanned, “but it’s just weird to even think about doing anything when you’re in the house, I’ve lived alone so long I usually don’t think about it.”

“Have you seriously not touched yourself since March? No wonder you’re so pent up.”

“You were in the hospital for a long time…”

“Right.” She nodded, understanding what you were getting at, “still… grab a toy, use it. I’ll go out for a drink tonight.”

“That’s still weird though!” You laughed, “then the entire time I’m trying to get off all I’m thinking about is the fact that you’ve purposely left the house and are sitting at some bar wondering how long it will be til you can come home cause you’re thinking about me touching myself. And that’s not gonna help me.”

“Okay, so I’ll start leaving the house more randomly when you’re home.”

“Don’t bother.” You sighed, your chin finding a home in your hand as you redirected your gaze to the computer screen, clicking back a page to see more options, “the vibe died back in April and I’m not big on using the dildo myself, only when it was attached to the ex.”

Emily smirked, suddenly caging you into the counter from behind, “it doesn’t have to be her wearing it.” She laughed, “I can confidently say I know my way around a strap.” Her breath was hot on your ear when she spoke and you nearly choked on air at the tone in her voice. Her fingers brushed across your lower back as she moved around the island, “What?” She raised a brow.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, not daring to look up from the screen.

“Really?” She turned around, pouring out a fresh cup of coffee, “seems like you’re a little flustered, that’s all.” Turning back to you she took a sip, watching the way you shifted in your seat, almost uncomfortably before she barked out a laugh, “I’m kidding!”

“Jesus christ.” You swore, throwing a pen in her direction.

“You should have seen the look on your face.”

“I hate you…”

_________________

@momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen men @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[parrishjeanna]

Y’all want to know what the only thing that has actually ever bothered me about 911 is?

So, I have family in everything, cops, firefighters, medical, army, navy, Air Force but knowing this is a mostly dramady I just brush off the stuff they get wrong cause you know it’s TV and they don’t take themselves seriously so I’m not going to either. However, the taxes episode is the most unbelievable one yet.

Let me explain. First off Maddie and Chimney wouldn’t have been audited because the only thing they did wrong was both claimed Jee-Yun. The first persons taxes that got processed would’ve gotten the money and the other person told, sorry for your luck the baby momma/daddy already claimed them you sort that out amongst yourselves. My sisters played this game with their asshole xhusbands.

They were not filing jointly which makes them both head of the house. If they were to file jointly, which that they did get right, since Maddie isn’t a dependent by not working or being disabled they have to be married, the person who makes the most should always be head of the house because they’ll get the most tax breaks.

But them having to filing jointly and getting into trouble for both claiming head of house is ridiculous.

So, THE only reason you would not claim head of house is if someone can claim you on their taxes. They can only do that one of a few ways, 1) you don’t work and live with them and they pay all your expenses. 2) you are disabled and you are their dependent. If you work you should still file for taxes you just can’t claim head of house. 3) you are married. Even if you are married you can still file separately but only one of you can claim head of house if they are claiming you on their taxes. They don’t have to claim you though. 4) you are their child under a certain age so they are still able to claim you for tax deductions. Again if you are working you should still be filing taxes you just can’t claim head of household. If they aren’t able to claim you and you still live with them and you are working you would file yourself head of house.

HEAD OF HOUSEHOLD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ADRESS WHERE YOU LIVE AND EVERYTHING TO DO ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT SOMEONE CAN CLAIM YOU ON THEIR TAXES.

Sorry for the rant I just think that was their laziest written episode ever. They could’ve come up with a better way to get them two to talk about getting married.

Like I don’t know have a kid who’s a bit older than Jee-Yun who is playing with Jee-Yun ask Maddie where her wedding ring is. Or a parent ask where Maddie’s husband is because they assume they’re married. They even could’ve had it where Maddie is like what happens when Jee-Yun is older and starts asking us why we’re not married, why aren’t we married.

I just hate lazy writing. So glad Tim is back.



[justsomeclintasha]

Clint closes his eyes, sinking back into the comfort of the couch. He’s tired. Tired of reading the subtitles. Tired of not being able to hear the coffee maker. Tired of having to lip read conversations he doesn’t catch most of.

Tired of feeling left out.

It’s been three days. Shield, as advanced as they are with everything else, takes forever to repair his hearing aids, and Natasha isn’t even here to keep his mind off it. She had texted him earlier to let him know her mission is over. She’ll be home tomorrow. He misses her.

Lucky pushes his head onto Clint’s lap, sensing his frustration, and he scratches the dog gently under his chin. He could just ask Tony for help.

Useless, his father scoffs. Deaf and stupid.

He swallows.

All you’ll ever be is a burden.

His throat is tight.

Lucky nudges closer, but he stands, making his way towards the lab before he can change his mind. His heart is hammering in his chest.

“Shut up,” he whispers to the voice in his head. Predictably, he doesn’t get an answer. A slight panic starts to set in as he finds Tony splicing two wires together.

Hey birdbrain. What’s up?

The text appears on a holographic screen in front of him. It bothers him more than it should.

“I need-“ He clears his throat, wonders if the volume is right. “Can you make me a pair of hearing aids?”

Tony spins his chair and reaches in the cabinet behind him. He tosses a slim purple case. Clint opens it to find a brand new set of aids already in there. He slips them in his ears. It takes a few moments of adjusting, but they’re good, better than the ones Shield gave him last time.

“Sound okay? Got a few extra sets in there if you ever need. Stuck with purple cuz I know you like it but there’s a sweet silver glitter pair for next time you have to dress up.”

Clint drops into the chair across from him, hands suddenly sweaty.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you.. you don’t have to make accommodations just for me.”

“You say it like it’s a problem. It’s not.” Tony glances up. “You’re not,” he emphasizes. He sets the wires aside, twisting a spare piece between his fingers. He can be patient when he wants to be.

“I wasn’t always deaf,” he says finally, like an admission.

“You weren’t?”

“You’ve read my file.”

“Nope.” Clint stares at him. “Never saw any reason to. Jarvis ran a background check initially and decided you passed. That’s good enough for me.”

“There is no way I would ever pass a background check.” Tony grins.

“Well, okay, he may have overlooked some stuff, but he’s a good judge of character.”

“I uh.. didn’t have a great childhood.” Clint waves him off as he opens his mouth to interrupt. “Dad was always drunk. Beat the hearing out of me when I was.. eight. Scariest thing to wake up and not be able to hear your own voice. Lots of hospitals and people asking questions. If one doctor got suspicious we bounced to another.”

“You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Always felt like a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m working on it. Just get caught up in my head sometimes,” he mumbles, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. A soft scratching noise has them both looking towards the door. “Sorry, just Lucky. He knows he’s not allowed in here.”

“Jarvis, let him in.” Lucky bounds over and sniffs Clint’s hand experimentally.

“I’m alright, buddy.” Satisfied, the dog moves to Tony, who pulls a bag of treats from the drawer and gives him two. “I knew he was gaining weight! I thought it was Steve the whole time!”

“He’s a good boy,” Tony defends. Lucky’s tail thumps loudly against the desk, and Clint can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah he is.”

[supernatural-bias]

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧!𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mentions of demons, ghosts, over all spooky stuff

↳ song: sweet dreams in sea major—miracle musical

masterlist!

• Shane leads an interesting life

• Er, afterlife, I suppose, considering he had only sprouted his black, fluffy wings after being plucked from the land of the living

• But I digress

• Besides—he was happy

• He had never been the kind of demon to engage in all that blood torture and acult shit anyways. Instead, he took pleasure in harmlessly scaring assholes or the occasion teenager that he would stumble upon durring the witching hour—although that was mostly code for a three am dunkin' doughnuts run

• "The munchies are a serious thing, Ryan. What can I say?" He had shrugged nonchalauntly once, grinning goofily down at his friend that had just been asking about the bags under his eyes—which resulted in tales of his midnight snack runs. You stood with your arms crossed not too far away, shaking your head slowly, but Shane could see the hint of a smile tugging at your lips

• "You really meet to get better sleep, dude. I'd hate to postpone filming for TMS, but you know I will if you aren't up to it. Doesn't mean that Steven won't give you hell for not letting him do his bit with Ricky though." Ryan had just sighed, rubbing at his own eyes as if the conversation itself had tired him out. But just like how Shane had noticed with you, he could see the ravenette resisting the urge to smile

• "I mean, insomnia is the first sign of possession after all. Can't have a supernatural being living inside of the company, our fans would give us hell." At last came his joke. It earned a snort from you, pleasing Ryan, whose eyes crinkled at the edges pleasantly

• Shane just grinned sharply

• If only you two knew

• That was another fun thing about his chosen predicament

• I mean, come on. A demon who's best friends with someone terrified of them? All the while pretending he doesn't believe anything of the sort? At this point, he should just up and leave for Juliard. A degree in acting was a shoe in for sure with how he had been living the past few years of his eternal damnation

• And it was all the more fun with you there as well, the yin to his and Ryan's yang. Always ready with just the right thing to say in the moment or a shitty pun you had heard the other day. Throw Steven in the mix and the four of you were thick as fucking theives

• There were some downsides though. With life (er, death?) there always was

• Ghost Files was one of the things Shane looked forward to the most at Watcher. Doing Buzzfeed Unsolved had been amazing, and even though he was an inhuman being that could crumble businesses with a flick of his pointed tail if he wanted to—demons did play a part in evil corporations after all—it felt liberating to build Watcher from the ground up with Ryan, Steven, and you.

• Plus, there was the added bonus of more shows now—one of which included puppets. He particularly enjoyed that one

• But Ghost Files was the crowned jewel. The one thing everyone—crew, audience, staff, even cameramen—looked forward to

• What can I say. Old habits die hard—and most of these people had been doing Buzzfeed Unsolved since they could properly hold a mic. It felt good to do something familiar

• And that's what it had been like for Shane. He was excited, no, downright giddy, to be back in the element of ghosts and ghouls

• It was fun to watch you and Ryan skirt around an entirely ghost free house, nerves on end as the two of you jumped every little noise. Most of which Shane made

• That's not to say that the three of you didn't find haunted places. Oh no. You most certainly did. The Sally House was the most memorable of them

• That demon really had been ready to kill Ryan and you that night. Right on the pentagram in the basement. But Shane had been able to coax (read: threaten) it into not doing anything but flash a flashlight once or twice

• But sometimes, his true form wasn't enough to spook off the spooks, so to say. It was rare, but occasionally some brave, or incredibly stupid, ghosts would try their luck at laying a hand on you or Ryan

• That got them a one way ticket to the second death they would ever have the pleasure of experiencing. The one delt out by Shane being arguably worse than anything that happened in their mortal lifetime

• He cared for his people. It was as simple as that. So what if that made him unethical as a demon. He played around with hand puppets half the time for fucks sake and he enjoyed it. He was far from an ethical demon at this point, and he was fine with that

• Didn't mean that having to ward off spirits didn't put him into a bad mood though

• Shane would probably never admit it, but the idea of something hurting you two while he wasn't there to protect you left a taste as bad as brimstone in his mouth

• "Shane? Dude, you're looking pale. Well paler than usual." You had stopped in the middle of filming once to comment on his appearance, trying to hide the way you sucked at your cheeks with anxiety. "Don't tell me you've finally cracked and begun to get scared by all this."

• Ryan had smiled at your joke. But the smile slowly slid off his face as he took another look at Shane, who was not laughing in the slightest

• "That Taco Bell we ate earlier didn't settle well, that's all." Shane's excuse was flimsy, but he couldn't care less right then. He just wanted to stay as close to you two and the crew as possible in case another spirit tried anything

• "Alright. But if you need to say the word and we can take a break." You said steadily, jabbing Ryan in the gut playfuly when he didn't automatically back you up

• "Yeah! Yeah, what they said. And jeez you didn't have to hit me so hard. Asshole—"

• "Oh you wanna go Bergara?" You had laughed, comically winding your arm up like Popeye used to do in the cartoons. Ryan scoffed, donning his Ricky Goldsworth voice as he began to fake fight with you

• The sight was enough to bring a small smile to Shane's face. The two of you always managed to do that

• "Nerds." He chuckled, bad mood already begining to lift a little

• "Loser." Both you and Ryan threw back the insult at the same time, laughing all the while

[nerdieforpedro]

The Long Road to Together

Tommy Miller x Original plus size female character (Velora)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, drug addiction mention, pain management, anxiety, PTSD, mentions of death, possible dub con (maybe), body worship, Tommy Miller's dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), P in V (practice safe sex everyone), pregnancy kink, domestic fluff, cheesy jokes

Summary: Velora has been apart of the Miller brothers' lives decades. She's particularly close to Tommy. They've shared countless memories with each other over the years and in a single night everything changes. If only they'd get out of their own way.

Notes: So, I put many subjects and themes I've wanted to write about in here. It should make sense, I had the wonderful @musings-of-a-rose beta it for me and as a fellow Tommy fan, I trust her. I did also add a subplot with Joel because, why not try one out? I really enjoyed this and for Tommy's character. I have a different take on him.

Word count: just under 16K (because Tommy's worth it!)

“You got anything for a bad back?” 

“Nothing that will actually take care of the pain. Best I can promise you is to dull it. You need to go see a specialist, Joel.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna take time I don’t have. You know I gotta…”

“Yeah, I know. Just let me know what appointments they have and I’ll see what my shifts are like old man. You can’t be folding over when Sarah’s just getting into high school. There will be boys there!” 

A slap was heard to Joel’s shoulder and he winced, letting out a curse as he hunched over further at his desk. The stress of running the business by himself was getting to him. Tommy had taken a sabbatical as he called it, the timing had been pretty poor. Thankfully, he had a woman who he considered a little sister to help him out. Her father had been friends with theirs and they always hung out together as children. In middle school, the family moved away for a time, but returned while the Miller brothers were in the middle of high school. Velora had just started high school and looked similar to how she did now, telling dumbass jokes, finding a reason to smack Joel and always being supportive. 

He organized the files that he would need for tomorrow and in particular, permits needed for a job the company would be starting on a ranch outside of Austin. Rebuilding a stable wasn’t too out of their depth, Joel just needed to research more on the permits required which he did, but damn if all the reading was making his head hurt even with his glasses on, add his back pain to that and he was miserable. He missed riding horses, but not so much he was willing to risk not being able to move for a few days. Velora had taken over administrative tasks that Tommy normally did as he was better at it and knew how to navigate the different offices they normally had to deal with the state and city, he was also much better at schmoozing suits and the like than his grumpy self. Velora helped out on her days off in between her shifts at the hospital. She sent Joel off for the evening and put away files that the elder Miller brother had taken out for review. 

“He’s got to learn to put this stuff back. Otherwise he’s never going to find anything.” Velora griped, she wore gray capri leggings because they were easy to move in and matched her white t-shirt. Usually she would dress a bit better for the office in case Joel brought any clients by, but he had been out most of the day, leaving her to get phone calls, further organize items and files. She was also trying to understand Tommy’s organization system which even though he had explained it over the phone twice, she still didn’t understand. “He’s been gone three weeks, like I get it but also I still don’t get what I’m looking at. It’s not even organized by color, number or alphabet, what the fuck is this?” Her brain hurt trying to work out the system. She thought Tommy had mentioned to her that it was by the date they took the client on, but there was no distinction between finished jobs and complete ones as those were mixed in and with different dates. “I feel like he could tell me five more times and I wouldn’t get it.” Shaking her head, she put the files where she thought they went near the front of the file cabinet and locked up the office, heading out to her car and driving home. Once in front of her small two bedroom, one and a half bath house, she sighed, happy to be home. She had a shift again tomorrow, but hopefully Joel would actually look for an appointment. Icy hot, tiger balm and heat packs could only do so much. Velora understood why Joel didn’t want to go to a pain clinic, he’d have to tell them about his past addiction issues with alcohol and it may affect his treatment plan, hell with some doctors, they just keep recommending tylenol and ibuprofen when that clearly hasn’t been working for him. He needed good pain management.

Kicking off her shoes, Velora flopped back on the couch and started at the ceiling. It was 8:30 at night. Too early to go to bed and too late to start any shows or movies.

“Where are you Tommy Miller?”

Elsewhere in the world…

The grass was crisp under his feet, the sun had just set not too long ago as he walked back down to the rock outcrop overlooking the rolls of green grass he had seen earlier that day. He couldn’t sleep again. The younger Miller brother had been worried about his brother Joel. He knew he didn’t deal too well with people even with Velora helping him. But he would text Joel later and maybe give Velora a call. There was more he needed to discuss with her than anyone else.

It had been seven years. They seemed to have passed by in a blink of an eye. Tommy recalled first joining the US Army, doing his patriotic duty and a way to use up the excess aggression he had from not really knowing where he was going next in life. At first it was fine, basic training then he was assigned to a platoon where he got to know other soldiers. It was when he was assigned to the 1st Armored Division that his optimism started to wear thin. His core group consisted of himself and five other members; they actually made it through Operation desert storm. What he saw there, the things he did, he never spoke about them except with the group and one person removed from the war. But the bodies, the smells, the tastes,, the sounds all of it overloaded everyone. Each man had their own way of dealing with it. One of the group was dishonorably discharged for using heroin he found overseas, but the Army never said what they did with the rest of it after removing it from belongings. He wasn’t the only one they confiscated it from, anyone who had it was dishonorably discharged but it was never made public what happened with the drugs. It was also never mentioned in great detail what they did to the country of Iraq. No one ever mentioned completely decimating and crippling a country, nearly burning it down to its foundation only for the same people who supplied the Army’s weapons and gear to switch profit off of a land that they aided in destroying. 

Tommy left the army after seven years of service, thankfully his brother allowed him in the construction company to work so he wouldn’t go completely insane. But his ‘Ironsides’ members weren’t so lucky. One died from an opioid overdose, another from drunk driving and two from suicide by gunshot. None of the funerals were covered fully by the VA, each family only received $1500 toward burial costs, but had full honors with all the pomp and circumstance. The two cousins in their group asked to have their ashes spread to their home which was Ireland, the only reason the veteran came to this place. It was beautiful though he had to admit. He may want to bring Joel and Sarah here, his brother would complain the entire time but he may get a grin out of it and Sarah would enjoy exploring the land. The younger Miller wondered if he should ask Velora to come too, she wasn’t one for the cold, but may like the greenery too. Watching his oldest friend muddle around the hilly terrain would be fun, he could steady her, show her the lakes and watch the sunset with her. Tommy felt he may not have cried as much if his Sweet Pea was here, she could crack a joke or just let him hold her, rock him  slowly as his head was on her shoulder. 

With two urns, one under each arm, Tommy carefully set one down and opened one, pouring the ashes out to scatter across the cool breeze that was blowing. He did the same with the second urn, waiting until another wind could carry the ashes away. Tommy had taken more time then he told Joel and Velora he would be gone, he didn’t mean to stay longer. It was just easier, he could work though his emotions more and not risk breaking down in front of them, though that had failed with Velora the night he told her he was going to spread that ashes per his brothers-in-arms wishes. 

Four weeks ago…

He had mentioned it like he was going to the store. She had asked him to explain and he didn’t. Tommy wasn’t going to until she pulled him into a hug. He didn’t realize it at the time, but tears had been running down his face. He remembered the warmth of her embrace and settled into the couch with her, almost laying on top of her to cuddle. She just ran her fingers through his hair, they didn’t say anything to each other, he tried to make as little noise as possible while sobbing. Her red shirt she had been wearing was soaked with his tears. Velora never mentioned his crying when he followed her to the bedroom and demanded to sleep next to her, promising to only hold her hand. She had smiled and told him it was fine if he needed more from her, to take what he needed. No matter if it had been money, time, food or those three DVDs he never returned, his old friend never complained. Velora would just smile and tell him it was okay. Even when Joel would get pissed with Tommy about the direction the company was going in to missing a game or two of Sarah’s (he really tried not to but sometimes the suits at the city were really long winded and insisted on drinks),  Velora would be there in his stead for his niece and tell him play by play as much as she could of the game when she would stop by in the evening. The veteran recalled that the night had been humid, despite the fan running, moisture stuck to their skin. Velora was in her simple thin nightgown and Tommy just wore his boxer-briefs to bed. 

Tommy may have took that a few steps too far. 

The night began with him holding her hand, that was fine for a time but, then he took her into his arms from behind, drawn to her soft curves that accommodated his taut muscles. The delicate oche tone of her skin glowed within the moonlight. It was when he kissed the back of her neck and his hand went to her breasts that she pulled away from his touch slightly,

“Tommy…don’t play around and go to sleep.” He heard her say, he couldn’t make out the inflection of her voice. His friend’s hips wiggled toward him, his free hand grabbed her hip, pulling it toward him.

“I’m not Sweet Pea. I need to touch you more, just let me, just for tonight.” A growl emerged from his chest, his teeth grazed her shoulder before nipping her lightly. Her gasps encouraged him further, she never said it, but a small smile always came to her lips when Tommy called her that. 

“Alright, but just…ah..” Velora wasn’t given a chance to finish her sentence. Her breast was plopped out of her nightgown as his hips grinded into hers. Tommy kept calling her his sweet pea in her ear and she reached a hand back to try and reach his cock, to feel it. “J-Just put a condom on and stick it in…” An order that Tommy wasn’t willing to follow right now, instead he pulled away from her, quickly slipped his boxers off and turned Vel on her back. “W-What are you doing? Why didn’t you just-” The nightgown she had on was over her head, the veteran hovered over her, he knew she would be angry but he would not fuck her the first time. Maybe the second time but not the first. Tommy had already planned other times he may bend her over. He wanted to make love to her in this moment, subsequent encounters could be messy and quick but the younger Miller brother wanted to savor her body as Velora was now, only for him..

“You told me to take what I needed.” His mouth took her erect nipple and large chocolate areola into his mouth, hearing her scream the first time convinced him that this was right. Her hands ran through his then medium length raven hair, tugging on it, his chest pressed into her stomach, sinking in it. The sensation had him grunt onto her nipple, rolling it with his tongue, his legs wrapped around her calf, his length dragging against her leg. Her body continued to writhe under his, his face soon in between her breasts nuzzling the sensitive skin between. Velora was looking down at him, panting, surprise on her face. She hadn’t expected him to fully undress her nor to try to explore her. “Velora,” Tommy paused and peered up at her, “I need all of you, so I’m going to take it all. Are you alright with that Sweet Pea?” He asked, moving upward and settling himself between her wide thighs. He wasn’t going to enter her yet. However, though she did spread her legs for him, Tommy closed her thighs around his waist so he could feel their soft embrace. 

“Yes, I told you to take what you need. I didn’t quite expect this way though.” Her digits danced along his bellybutton, then his stomach, not as firm as his military days, but still tight enough to display an ab or two. The pads of her fingers circle his nipples, small but at attention, all for her right now. “You don’t have to be gentle either Tommy. I’m here with you, for you. Just let go.”

“Sweet Pea, I want to be careful with you. You deserve that, always you hear?” Descending, he felt her heartbeat against her chest with his, glad to know he wasn’t the only one feeling like it might burst. “Give me your love Vel.” Lips crashed together, he bit her bottom lip, drawing a sliver of blood. He just said he’d be gentle but it was overwhelming, one of his hands took the back of her head and forced it forward, deepening the kiss, Vel mewled into his mouth and pressed her feet into the mattress to help move her hips forward, she felt the throbbing of Tommy’s cock just above her folds, a hand came between her and the velvet skin. Two fingers parted her lower lips and a squeal was heard when he released her head and it fell on the pillow. “Not yet Vel, gonna eat that dripping pussy.” He meant to use sweet words with her, that’s what she should be hearing, his Sweet Pea. Sliding back down, Tommy hoisted her thighs on his shoulders, giving each a small peck and pulling them so she could only see his hair for a small part of his forehead. When he spoke directly into her mound, he heard her say it,

“Fuck Tommy, make me cum. Sop my pussy up with your mouth!”

The younger Miller brother smacked his lips. “I’m going to have to see how dirty I can get you to talk Sweet Pea.” His nose ran up her slit, taking in her strong scent, he caressed her opening with his plush lips before slipping his tongue inside, rotating his the tip of his oral muscle was causing her cunt to quelch already, he then inserted it centimeter by centimeter , reveling in her screaming his name. His length continued to throb but his goal was to have her climax before entering her. The waves of contractions inside of her canal was constricting his tongue, he longed to have his cock inside of her, to have her continue to cry out his name while he could watch her face unravel. The pressure on the sides of his head increased as her large thighs pressed together in an effort to keep him right where he was, not that Tommy had plans to be anywhere else. His nose tickled her clit and provided a particularly strong clamp down from her. So he set his elbows against the mattress and forced his face against her mound, holding his breath as he used his nose and mouth to make her climax. With alternating curses, calling on the Lord and Tommy’s name, Velora reached her peak, the soldier was able to at least draw his face back a little before suckling on her clit, overloading her body, making it jerk. Tommy managed to inhale deeply, satisfied that his face was soaked with her scent and nectar. He ran two fingers through her cunt and brought them to her mouth. “Suck on them with that loud filthy mouth on yours. Turns out I needed this side of you love.” 

Her warm tongue quietly took her own juices from Tommy’s fingers, after they were clean, he got up from the bed and rummaged through his jacket and found a condom. He looked up at Velora who was turned on her side toward him, the easy shine of their affection for one another draped her body. Her curves and stretch marks on full display, ‘she’s mine’ he decided. ‘No one else’s, I’ll make damn sure of it.’ He crouched down next to the bed, meeting her at eye level, “Velora, you’re sure you’re alright with this next part?” He needed to know. They were friends first and foremost and he respected her boundaries, except tonight of course, but he wanted to make sure she was really okay with it. The woman nodded and took his hand in hers. 

“Tommy Miller, get in this bed and make love to me. You said you wanted my love. I’m giving it to you. Come to me.” She got up on her knees and held onto the headboard to keep herself from tipping over back onto the bed. “I told you to let go. Just have me. Please.” It was the look she gave him, so permissive and delicate. His arms wrapped around her once more as he kissed her, not deeply just to touch his lips against hers. Their foreheads touched and he met his nose with hers. 

“Velora, you’re a hellova woman.” Tommy smirked and laid her back, moving her toward the middle of the bed. He was in between her thighs once again as she opened herself before him. As he rolled the condom on his length, he marveled at her body; wide, tender, subdued and hushed for him, she bit down on her lip to quiet herself, presumably because he had mentioned volume and word choice. Tommy didn’t want her to quiet down now. He wanted her to go hoarse from calling his name, from what he did to her. Leaning forward, he pressed his tip into her folds, releasing himself and using both hands to cup her face, his thick fingers massaging her the top of her jaw, just under her ears, “Look at me Sweet Pea. Open your mouth, I want you to use those lungs.” A short nod from her was all it took, his hips eased forward and back easily for the first few pumps, only going in half way, keeping his eyes locked on hers as she cried out, 

“Oh…oh..fuck Tommy, you’re…spreading…me…” Velora whimpered, her thighs began to close again and his hands had to move to keep them open. His rhythm picked up as his elbows made contact with her knees pulling her legs back toward her chest and curling her body for a deeper angle, the pace picked up as he was now diving his cock fully into her flush with her mound and pulling back until only the head of length was inside of her. It was difficult, he could barely speak because her cunt kept sucking back in deeper, the slapping of their skin filled the room. Tommy raised one of her legs and turned his head to bite her calf, then licking it after, tracing his tongue over his teeth marks.

“This pussy is mine Sweet Pea, you won’t fit anyone else Vel. Goddamn you tight as a vice woman…” He murmured into her leg, pounding into her, he felt the pulse of his hardness growing closer to completion. Velora reached for Tommy, her arms stretched outward toward him, he dropped her legs and grabbed her love handles, continuing to roll his hips into hers. His forearms were scratched by her nails, leaving red marks on his olive skin. “Velora, you hear me? This cunt is mine only mine. Say it Sweet Pea.” A command with her pet name. It pushed her over the edge, 

“Shit yes, yes yes yes Tommy, my pussy’s just for you. Tommy Ahh!” Her neck flicked back as her walls closed around his heat, he was able to push into her six or seven more times before he released inside of her. The veteran didn’t pull out yet, dropping himself slowly on top of her plush form and ran his nose over her lips that were slightly parted, there was droop at the corner of her mouth, her eyes had tears dotting them, his large hand cupped her cheek against and tipped her face forward so her neck was no longer bent. “T-Tommy…T-Tommy that was…I…” Her quiet words expressed what he couldn’t. 

What has he done with his best friend? They’ve crossed a major line. He was worried that when they came out of this, she wouldn’t speak of it, like other insecurities and issues that he had told her about over the years. She never shied away from listening to his thoughts, however intrusive and depressive. But he didn’t want to be this vulnerable with anyone else. Even with other women he dated, there was always a barrier that he put up as far as feelings. They always told him he hid behind his humor and sarcasm. Tommy knew he did, but the one person he was always comfortable with was Velora, was he the same for her? He realized he had never asked, not that she didn’t share her own issues with him, but she didn’t talk about men she dated with him so much. Not that he encouraged it, he never wanted to hear about her dating life, no one would be good enough for his Sweet Pea, was he even good enough for her?

“Valora, rest. I’ll be right back.” A peck from his lips to hers before he slid out of her and got out of the bed. He went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Looking in the trash can, he scoffed at the loss, ‘should be inside of..’ before he could finish the thought, he cursed himself. Tommy knew he needed to stop, they hadn’t even had a conversation about what they just did, he was thinking about putting his seed inside of her?! “Fuck, I’m insane…” Shaking his head, he grabbed a washcloth out of her bathroom and returned to the bed, Vel had rolled on her side and was attempting to sit at the side of the bed, “Let me clean you up first, take it easy.” he brushed the back of his hand on the copper toned flesh of her hip. He tapped the washcloth on her thigh as she raised her leg and he held it for her, wiping front to back before tossing it on the dresser, knocking over a lotion bottle or two.

“Tommy, why would you throw it?” She asked, chuckling, ‘thank God, she still laughs. That’s good.’ His eyes went from her face to her slit, despite wiping it down it was still glistening, he licked his lips before setting her leg back down and letting her pull on his shoulder to sit up next to him at the bedside. Velora looked forward for a few minutes before speaking again. 

“Did you take all you needed lucky beetle?” She kept turned away from him. “Thanks for cleaning me up Tommy. We should head to…” his hand ran up her spine.

“We’re not doing anything until we talk about this. Vel, I…I want to..” She kissed his cheek and told him words that devastated him.

“This should be between us like always. I won’t ask you for anymore. We’re just- just friends. I hope I was able to help you some. We don’t have to talk about it.” The younger Miller brother remained silent as she wobbled to the bathroom to relieve herself, she closed the door. In his disappointment, he quickly threw his clothes on and dressed, leaving her home and hopping into his truck. A deep wail came from Tommy before he started the engine and drove home, he laid awake and slept through his alarm the following day. Within the week he was off to Ireland to distribute the ashes, he said he would be gone for a week, week and a half tops. He was gone for about three weeks.

Velora’s tears streaked her face in her bathroom. She should have told him that yes, she wanted her cunt to be just his. For him to only be with her and no one else, but she couldn’t. She knew how Tommy gets when he’s sad or frustrated by something he can’t control. That’s when he’d normally find a woman to fuck. She’d used it to her advantage, granted she didn’t think it would happen, it never had before. The woman wore the same nightgown she had before, bland panties, they cuddled like they normally did. He liked to be the big spoon. She knew she shouldn’t have given in, but it was Tommy, her Tommy. She’s known him for more than half her life, tried to date other men but they flat out don’t compare or worse, they actually suck. She couldn’t tell him that it was the first time she had sex fully naked and the lights on, that he asked to see her face and took the time to prep her before entering her. God he used the mouth that she dreamed about on her, just thinking about it now…She should have let him finish. But she was afraid he’d say it first…that it should be another thing between friends. The way she heard him hastily dress and run out of her house told her, she had done to him what men had done to her in the past: dismissed his feelings.

In the time he was gone Sweet Pea tried to go on dates, but she couldn’t stand the touch of another man, even from a side hug she flinched. Whoever said the best way to get over a man is by getting under a new one was wrong. She can’t even be near a new one.

Two days before arriving home…

Joel had spoken to Tommy two days before the latter’s flight home, asking what the hell he did to make V go on so many dates. Tommy was curious how his brother knew the information given that he didn’t think they spoke about subjects like that. Joel said that he heard it from Tess, Joel’s off and on again, whatever she was. That was an entire bag of worms he wasn’t getting into. At least his relationship with Velora wasn’t like that…but it could be. They started out as friends and now those two assholes can’t be in the same room without eye-fucking each other or cursing up a storm. Tommy explained that they had a miscommunication when he last spoke to her and that’s why they were unusually curt with each other on the phone. Joel gave it some thought, sure he was closer to forty-five than forty, but nah, Tommy wouldn’t have right? Not with…

“Tommy you didn’t sleep with V did you? Tell me you didn’t.” Tommy could hear Joel’s head droop. Damn him and using the same disappointing voice he uses when Sarah talks a bit too much trash at soccer and makes one of the girls on the other teams cry. 

“We sleep over each other’s homes fairly often after we hang out. I told you, it’s just..”

“Goddammit Tommy! You can’t do that shit, especially not to her. You know you can’t cut her out of your life like you do other women. I told you this shit would come back to bite you in your ass like a snake in a hole.” His older brother's condemnation of his actions past and present made Tommy suck his teeth.

“This from the guy who keeps holding on to a woman who only uses him for a few good times and disappears for months at a time. Fuck, she’s one who told me we’re not going to talk about it. Still be friends. What the hell else was I supposed to do? I took some extra time, what’s wrong with that?”

“The difference is I know what my relationship with Tess is, you asshole. You slept with a woman who’s been there for you through all your shit. I know you made it about you. It wasn’t about her at all, was it?”

Silence…his brother had him there. At the time, it hadn’t been about her, he even used the fact that she said he could use her however he wanted to do exactly that. Tommy exhaled.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do now? I’ve already blown everything to shit. She’s doing the same thing I would, getting out there and meeting some guys. Why’d you have to tell me you asshole? I fuckin’ hate it…she’s out with some bastard who won’t even….”

“Eh, I don’t need details of what ya’ll did. And it’s not really going that well. She told Tess that she freaks out when the guys try to touch her, even holding her hand. It’s all for show, guess trying to prove something to herself. Both of ya are a damn pair.” Joel chuckled on the line, the first time during their conversation. Tommy followed suit and a low rumble of laughter. 

“We’re two people who make shitty ass decisions. Just, see if Tess can get her to hold off ‘till I come home. I know her, it’s only making things worse and she’s going to be in head about it. All of it.”

“Yeah, on that same token little brother, get your head out of your ass and talk to the woman. Velora deserves that much at least. You’ll have to get her to listen tho’. I don’t think she’ll be keen on ya right now.”

“Shut up and just pick me up at the airport in a few days. Bring Sarah, I miss my cute niece.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up and then mention my daughter. I shouldn’t bring her just to spite ya. But she wants to ses you too. Loves your stupid ass. I guess you’re a’right at times Tommy. Take care, I gotta go to bed.”

“Lucky you. You can sleep. I’m just awake for no damn reason. You aren’t the worst big brother. See you in a few days.” 

The brothers smiled as they ended their calls. Joel trotted upstairs and kissed Sarah goodnight as she was already in bed. She stirred slightly and a smile formed on her face at her father’s warmth. One of the few times Joel didn’t look like he was completely over everything was whenever he gazed upon his daughter, his only light. 

It was 3:15 am where Tommy was packing up most of clothes, he had brought a backpack and a duffle bag that was significantly lighter now that the two urns weren’t in it, plus he wouldn’t need to check his bags this time so he might get through their airport quicker and get home. He went out into the cold night air with his coat on, hands in his pockets and hair tied back. The puffs of hot hair leaving his nose made him chuckle, he thought of her again, hoping that she hadn’t had too many dates in his absence but some to make her feel better. He didn’t want them to have gone well of course, but if she has the dates that’s fine. Joel wasn’t wrong, he did need to speak to her when he got back, he just had no clue what to say. 

Sorry for fucking you? Sorry for telling you that I don’t want anyone else to see you like this? That I’m especially sorry for not doing this years ago when I first realized that my feelings for you went deeper than that of a friend and maybe sabotaged some of your dates, sent messages from your phone and comforted you when the guys of course stopped communicating with you. Thankfully I only did that a few times before you caught me and told me to just tell you if I thought a guy was trash. I brushed you off because I would tell you they were all trash, but I knew I was garbage too because I was still fucking around, so i couldn’t tell you that. I didn’t have the right. Actually, that might be why you said what you did that night, you knew I didn’t have the right to you. I used you once again and why should I feel like I’m entitled to more? Just because of how you said my name, how you seemed surprised when I wanted to see you and hold you, how good you felt in my arms, how happy I am when I’m in yours…I’ve really screwed the pooch on this one. 

The short walk and the cold air gave Tommy pause as he found himself at the same rocky outcrop that he had spread the ashes over. “Had I asked, you would have come with me. I should have just asked…I have to tell you sorry in person, Sweet Pea.” The stars were hanging in the sky, twinkling at the haunted man. He began slowly back to his cabin and was finally able to sleep, there was no one to hold him when he shed his tears that night.

Velora had tears of a different nature, she was able to finally kiss one of her dates, it was a fair kiss, definitely not like her one with Tommy. She compared him with everyone now that she had a taste of him. Her date suggested that they go back to his place to which she declined, there was no spark, no longing, no anticipation. The man was good looking, could put sentences together, paid for dinner, seemed nice, no real reason to not try him out except he wasn’t Tommy Miller. He didn’t have his dark hair, deep brown eyes, that goofy looking mustache that tickled her tummy, his cinnamon skin or velvet voice. This man was none of those things and it wasn’t his fault. It was hers for agreeing to this date. Vel’s friends were proud of her for getting out there and exploring her options, but she was going through the motions, no matter if it was work, helping out Joel and Sarah or just moping at home, it was all hollow. The man walked her to her car, to which she thanked him for the date and drove home. 

Once home, she hopped in the shower and wash the date away, scrubbing her inner thighs especially as he had tried to finger under the table, but seemed to have difficulty navigating her large thighs, she couldn’t tell if he just hadn’t been with a larger woman or was out of practice in general. Velora got out of the shower, dried off and brushed her teeth, using extra mouthwash, she didn’t want to taste that man at all. 

Sitting on the bed, she looked at herself in the mirror, wrapped in her towel. This was the room she was taken by Tommy or more apt, she offered herself to him. Happily. The circles under her eyes were darker and she chuckled, it’s not the first time she had cried over Tommy Miller, but it was usually because he had done something stupid and not the other way around. It was enough to keep that man in a place that would freeze a witch’s tit an extra week and a half. 

He may have told me that he wanted to be friends with benefits or maybe that he actually had feelings for me, but I didn’t let him talk. These men aren’t Tommy and it’s not their fault. I should have told him years ago but I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. Tommy, Joel and Sarah are family and I just couldn't…I still may lose them anyway. I shouldn’t have told Tess why I was crying and dating. She likely told Joel and…would he know? Is that why Tommy hasn’t come back yet? My head hurts. I feel like shit. Tommy’s the only one that looked at me like that, he touched me from head to toe and told me that I was only his. It was likely just dirty talk but still, it was nice to hear. Pfft, just nice? It was what I’ve always wanted to hear. I just didn’t want to be second anymore…Second to his grief, to his anger, pain and second to whoever the flavor of the month was. I’m tired of being second, I want to be first.

Vel laid across her bed and started at the ceiling, her tears were steady and she gave up trying to wipe them away. She woke up the next morning with a stuffy nose from not covering herself properly before sleeping. 

“Fuck, even my nose is tired of my shit…”

The day Tommy gets home…

Tommy arrived at the airport around seven in the evening, he was almost home. He had called Joel to pick him up, the uncle was excited to see his little niece as his brother said he would bring her. Normally he would call Vel but he couldn’t see her yet. Sarah and Joel greeted him warmly in the drop off area and helped him lay his bags in the truck. The brother chatted about how business had been and Sarah chimed in about soccer and school. The bright young teen did have something important to share.

“So Dad, we’re going to have pizza tonight right? Since Uncle Tommy’s back.”

“Yeah pumpkin I told you we would.” Joel sounded puzzled, unsure why his daughter was confirming plans they had already discussed. Tommy did not like the sound of this, it’s never good if Joel is surprised. He knew his brother stayed prepared. 

“I invited Aunt V to eat pizza with us, you got three pizzas right?” Tommy glared at Joel who kept his eyes on the road. His daughter may be in cahoots with Tess, which surprised him because he didn’t think Sarah liked the woman. He foresaw major issues going forward. 

“I ordered three because I thought it was going to be the four of us. You didn’t mention Vel.” The older Miller brother said slowly, he needed Tommy to know this was not his idea, and frankly he didn’t want the clusterfuck this was going to be, to be in his house.

“Well, Aunt V has been kinda down lately, hasn’t she Uncle Tommy?” Sarah leaned forward in her seat and patted Tommy's shoulder. He couldn’t lie to his only niece, but he also was not going to speak about his love life to a fourteen year old.

“I’ve been away Peanut so I wouldn’t know. Has she now? We should cheer her up.” Tommy bit his lips, and rocked forward, Joel knew those motions were, he was self-soothing. He was so pissed, but couldn’t say anything because he would sooner die then show Sarah anything other than her sweet uncle. Joel knew this was going to be a problem when they were alone. 

“Baby girl, you are so loved.” is all Joel managed to say before cutting on the radio.

Tess was at Joel’s house paying the pizza man and Velora was sitting on the couch. Tess was humming, this woman they all maybe saw three months total out of the year. It was weird, but Joel loved it so Vel figured she would just keep her trap shut. She shouldn’t speak about anyone’s relationship since she had mucked hers up with Tommy. Though a part of her wanted to look nice for him, so she ended up pinning her hair up, exposing her neck and wearing an olive green three-fourth sleeve shirt dress, she also may have left the top button open so she had a bit of cleavage showing but not too much. Sarah was going to be there after all. Vel also made sure to put on her favorite lotion from Bath & Body Works, ‘into the night.’ Maybe she was hoping for something to happen, at the very least, she wanted to be able to talk to him, likely not about the last time they saw each other but at least be civil.

The door opened and Sarah burst in, hugging Vel and snuggling into her, commenting on how good she smelled, Joel carried a bag of Tommy’s and hugged Tess, giving her a kiss on the cheek. That’s when Vel lost her breath, Tommy Miller strode through the doorway and set his backpack on the floor, nodding toward Tess. His eyes met Vel’s and he went to speak as she did , but nothing came from either of them. It looked like Sarah was going to say something but Joel suggested that they eat before the pizza gets cold. Everyone ate and listened to Tommy’s trip and embellished stories, Vel soaked up his laughter and smile, wondering how she would feel if he were to tell her he didn’t want to speak to her again, as he did other women. She was going through the motions again as Joel carted Sarah off to bed before long, she had fallen asleep across Velora’s lap. A place Tommy wanted to be. She looked beautiful, the earth tone dress looked gorgeous on her. It was then that he was surprised, Tess offered Vel a ride home. Apparently, a car ran a stop sign and rear ended her. She hadn’t been injured but her car was in the shop for repairs. Joel and Tess had been giving her rides from home to work. Tommy saw an opportunity. He had left his truck at Joel’s so he could drive home once he made it to their house after the airport. 

“I can drive you home Sweet Pea.” He stated quietly, setting a hand on her shoulder, he stepped in between Tess and where Vel was sitting. Tess was about to interject but Joel shook his head, signaling to let them be. Velora nodded. 

“Sure, thanks Tommy.” With that, she stood and thanked Tess for the offer giving her and Joel hugs before slipping her flip flops on and heading out with Tommy. He opened the truck door for her and she climbed in, he took special care to take a gander at her legs which the moonlight was reflecting off their well moisturized sheen. Tommy then got in the truck and started driving. 

“Tommy…I-I’m sor…”

“Leave it for when we get to your place. We need to sit and talk face to face.” The grave tone he used worried her, was this really happening? Was she going to lose her best friend over the best sex she had?

Once at her home, she opened the door and Tommy locked it after they got in, Velora set to opening a bottle of whiskey and pouring them both glasses with one cube of ice each. She sat next to Tommy on the couch and slowly sipped on her drink, clicking her nails on the glass. Tommy took a large swig and set his on the coffee table, taking hers and placing that on the table as well.

“Velora, I need you to listen to me. Don’t say anything yet.” 

“T-Tommy, just you’re not going to leave right? Just forget it. Just don’t tell me to go away.” His eyes widened, that wasn’t what he expected. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed to try and calm her, but that only made her jump. “I know I shouldn’t have, honestly you’d never taken me up on it before. I wanted to see how far you were going to go, I didn’t expect…not that i didn’t enjoy it, but if it means we can’t be friends then, I’ll forget about it.” Her speech was pressured and rapid, eyes wild and darting around, when she did focus on Tommy’s face, he saw that she was frightened. 

“Sweet Pea…Just give me a…” Tommy tried to cut her off to explain but she kept going.

“You can’t call me that anymore. You can’t say it like that. Sweet Pea, it makes me wet each time and I can’t, I can’t Tommy Miller! We’re friends, you can’t call me that, not after…” The tears that she had been avoiding since she saw him walk though Joel’s doorway broke through, it was Tommy’s turn to hold her and to console. It was then he realized he wasn’t the only one that had been having feelings over the years. How long had she been in love with him? How long had he been hurting her? How long had they been hurting each other?

“Velora I don’t want to be just your friend. I feel the same way. Honey please…” Tommy whispered as he brought her close, her tears were wetting his shirt, but it was fine by him. He just needed to make her understand that he didn’t want to share her. But he also thought maybe he shouldn’t undress her this time.

After some time, she stopped just embracing her, small hands wrapped around his back, pressing on his shoulder blades. They were quiet except for a few sniffles. Vel leaned back and kissed Tommy’s cheek, her face puffy from her waterworks,

“I’m sorry I didn't let you talk, well this time and especially the last time. I just wanted to avoid talking about it. I couldn’t handle you telling me it didn’t mean anything.”

“Velora. That’s not anything I would ever say to you. And it wasn’t what I was going to say the other night either. I planned to tell you that I don’t speak like that to anyone, even during sex and that I didn’t want you seeing anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else. Vel…I…” Tommy was cut off by her lips, not forceful but clearly to quiet him again, he cupped her face and leaned into the kiss, letting out a small moan. He did let her go after he licked her bottom lip and she didn’t allow him in. Not that type of kiss he figured.

“Just a little at a time Lucky Beetle. Please a little at a time. You just told me something major, I can’t have you say that I love you right now too. I know you like to get things all out in the open but just let me sit in it a bit.” The explanation made sense to him, in his haste to share his feelings, he forgot that she needs things in pieces, slowly. It’s why he loved talking to her because she could help him see things part by part, but that was clearly different in a relationship aspect. Her hands raised to play with his hair, then ran along his cheeks and poked his mustache. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear it, but I just need time. It won’t be too much. I promise.” He nodded, accepting her proposal.

“Should we get you cleaned up? Your face looks a mess Sweet Pea. Er, not that…” The woman let out a bellowing laugh, it was a sound that he was elated to hear. He hadn’t heard it for weeks and the last time he did, was one of his highest and  lowest points.

“Yeah, I know I look a mess.” She stood up and patted his shoulder for him to follow her to the bedroom. “Tommy, I should tell you, or rather I don't know if you already heard from Joel, I have been on dates since you were away. A few…” A drawer opened and she got out a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt for him. Tommy had his own drawer at her house and she did at his, they had for years. “Like four dates,” She turned to face him, but kept her eyes to the ground, still she felt she needed to be honest. “None of them panned out. They weren’t you, I compared them all to you. Even the last one…” Her arms crossed over to stomach as she held her elbows, Tommy could fill in the gaps but he still needed to know.

“How far did you go with him?” He asked flatly. He readied himself for the potential answer that she may have slept with someone, it’s not like he hadn’t done the same thing in the past, though while he was away he didn’t think to. The vet hadn’t expected Velora to take a page from his playbook as far as fucking away feelings.

“Kissing and he tried to…well not that he could find what he was trying to finger. It’s not like mine’s in a different place than a smaller woman’s, you just have to go a little deeper.” Her eyes rolled as she complained and Tommy chuckled, it was entertaining  hearing her mock another man and gave him a sense of pride. 

“Sounds like you had a tough go of it hun.” He placed his hands on his hips, his mustache continued to dance above his upper lip as she continued to chuckle. Velora shook her head and threw the clothes at him, which he caught. “Thanks for telling me though, you're honest to a fault.”

“Shut up Miller. I’m going to shower first.” A small smirk greeted her lips as she grabbed her own nightshirt and panties before heading into the bathroom. Tommy set his clothes on the bed and went back into the living room to finish his whiskey. They felt more normal, like themselves. It was good, but he didn’t want it to stay like this. How else was it supposed to feel?

Velora took a quick shower and brushed her teeth, remembering the glass of whiskey she had and that mint likely wouldn’t taste good with it. She tossed her worn clothes in the hamper and found Tommy sitting on the couch, looking at his empty glass. “Did you want mine too? It doesn’t go well with colgate.” Tommy shook his head and downed her glass as well before heading into the bedroom and stripping, then into the shower. When he came back out, he put his clothes in a small pile in the corner of the room out of the way. The pair sat on the bed next to each other.

“So…”

“So…what do we do now?”

“We should sleep, talk more about things with fresh minds.”

“Did you want to go get breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sure, though I should probably check in with Joel to see if he needs help at the office.”

“It can wait until the next day, he’s actually doing better. Tess convinced him to go to a pain clinic.”

“Really? He left that part out when he was updating me. Old man with a sore back.”

Velora climbed up in the bed and slid under the covers, Tommy watched her and wondered if he could really sleep in the same bed as her without touching her. He should be able to, he has self-control. He followed suit and slipped under the covers as well, turning on his side away from her. If he faced her, he would feel tempted to touch her and after they had a positive conversation the last thing he needed to do was compromise that again.

Turned out it was not up to Tommy Miller whether things were going to happen or not.

Velora became the big spoon to Tommy’s little spoon and that was fine until the sun started to shine through the curtains of her bedroom window. Tommy rolled over on his back and Vel’s leg wrapped around his slim waist. That would be fine, if his hips hadn’t shifted up slightly and a familiar bulge touched her inner thigh. Exhaling, she opened her eyes to see if he was awake, he was not, his breathing still steady and his face in a neutral position. Her finger started to circle his dark nipple, she sank her body weight on top of his abdomen and rested her forehead on his chest, her soft digits inched along both sides of his clavicle. “Fucking delicious menance Tommy.” Vel hummed into his chest, sturdy hands took hold of her hips.

“Am I now? Right back at ya Sweet Pea. I thought I was having a damn good dream. Looks like wakin’ up is even better. Didn’t know you were such a vixen.” A low hum emerged from Tommy’s lips and he sat up, holding her over his hips. “Don’t move, you’re ridin’ me this mornin’ Sweet Pea.” His eyes had a soft glow to them, placing his lips over hers before she could protest, he knew what she’d say, to lay her back down because she was too heavy, but he didn’t want to, He wanted to watch as she bounced on top. Her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, grasping tight, unsure how much pressure to put on him. Tommy, released her hips to slide his boxers down, unleashing his swollen member from the cloth confines. He then slid her thin wet panties aside to touch her puffy lower lips, a long moan was released from Vel as the mixture of cool air and warm callused fingers entering her, made her squirm. “Sweet Pea, you’re ready for me this morning aren’t ya? Fuck Vel, we wasted too much time. I could have had a ring on your finger and Sarah could have a cousin or two.” Her eyes shot open, did he just…? She pulled back, making her ass press against his thick cock, a gasp escaped from his mouth.

“Tommy, d-did you just…what?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean Velora. You don’t want me to say three words fine. I know many a way to tell you the same damn thing woman.”

“Well you wanna try this morning?” Her suggestion made him kiss her neck, licking it as his fingers pumped inside of her slowly. “T-Tommy, give me your…”

“My what Sweet Pea? I’ll have to be careful where I call you Sweet Pea. I can’t have you gettin’ this wet at a cookout.” He smiled into her neck, before biting it. One of Vel’s hands grasped the back of his head, tugging it toward her neck.

“Fuck Tommy. Your cock. I want your cock. I’ll make a baby with you. Give it to me.” She yelped as his fingers started to move faster, her nectar dripping down his palm.

“Not yet, I have to show you who can find your pussy with these fingers.” His mouth left her neck and found her lips again, biting her lower lip as she moaned his name. He could watch her like this for the next hour, maybe hours. 

“Don’t be an ass about it Tommy.” Her hips were moving faster, her hands came back to his shoulders as she began moving up and down instead of in a circle.

“Look at you, quick study like always Sweet Pea. Be my angel and soak my fingers.” Tommy commanded, curing his head to nipple at the top of her breast. He felt her squeezing his fingers, then the flood of her slick down his wrist as he slowed down his fingers to match her body’s release and subsequent decrescendo. She sat panting on his lap, her eyes heavy as she met his dark brown orbs again. “Velora, you’re sure I can cum inside you? We still have a shit ton to talk about.” He saw her nod but needed her to speak to him so he didn’t move.

“Tommy, I’ve dreamt of you getting me pregnant and raising a family with you. We’ll work out the details later. It may not even happen this go around. We’ll have plenty of other times to practice. I love you Tommy Miller. I want to make a home with you and a family.” Velora kissed Tommy’s forehead and reached behind her ass, taking his hot member in her hand, teasing his head, “I too am not going to let anyone else have this cock if I have anything to say about it.”

Tommy wondered why he hadn’t seen it, how he could have been so blind, but that moment passed, “Did you have me not tell you I love you so you could say it first?” Vel chuckled as her small hand stroked his cock, “You’re my petty ass vixen angel and I love you. Take off that gown. We don’t fuck clothes in this house.” A beamng chuckle was shared between them as she removed her gown and tossed it on the floor and Tommy assisted her in lifting up to remove her panties, he then shimmied his boxers off and he sat her right back in his lap. “Ready Velora? I’ll ease you in slow.” 

Velora’s hand guided Tommy’s cock to her soaked folds, slipping inside of her easier than she thought, though she didn’t expect her hips to slam flush with his. She let out a loud whimper from the expansion inside of her, the pulsing heat, the grimace disappearing from his face once he was inside of her, she remained still to adjust and was unsure if she should move, it felt as if he was piercing her womb and stomach. It felt like they were finally in the right place and the right time with each other. But she wanted more, she would take from him until he had nothing left to offer her, He hadn’t said a word until she pulled on his shoulders and pressed her feet into the bed to move up, only making it where half of his cock was still inside of her. “Tommy, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this too long, damn…did you get bigger while in Ireland?”

Tommy still didn’t answer, he was focusing on not shooting his load into her after she sat her full weight on him. Velora was able to take all of him in one stroke, a feat that hadn’t been performed by any other woman he had been with. Now with her moving, he was twitching even more and it felt as if the wrong move or loss of concentration would have him prematurely released. However, when she commented about his size, his eyes open to see the woman that he loved struggling to ride him, it was breathtakingly slow, the perfect pace to make him last longer. “Sweet Pea, I’m gonna be rough for a few, you’re doing the Lord’s work up there. Need to know how it feels to fill you to the brim with my seed Velora.” Bewildered, Vel’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he began, taking ownership of her hips and forcing his upward into her, she truly started to spring off his member, leaving only his bulbous head inside of her before bringing her back down so his balls smacked her ass.

“Goddamit Tommy! I’m gonna break, Ah…Tom-Tommy..” Her voice cracked as she screamed, one hand dug into his shoulder, her nails drawing blood from his skin as her other hand cemented itself at the base of his skull. Her back was already arching, she was trying to stop her walls from sputtering, to draw this sensation out, him making her and her cunt cry for him. Miller’s grunts increased with his pace, his goal was to stuff her with his cum and he would succeed this morning. His mouth found her round shoulder, her light stretch marks broke though the rest of her brown skin, he started licking them, but felt his teeth start to dig into the soft flesh. “Ah..chew baby, Bite me Tommy..!” She continued to call his name, it was a ballad leading to their mutual end. Velora came first, her nails, raking across his back and head as her cunt attempted to milk his cock of its contents. Tommy was able to get in a few more pumps before he felt it, finally, thick ropes coated her walls as he moaned her name into her shoulder, tasting something metallic on his lips. They remained still, regaining air in their lungs, Tommy fell on his back with Vel on top of him, her breasts landing on either side of his head as her chest fell on his face.. He tilted his chin up and landed a string of kisses in between and on the tops of her breasts. She hummed as she stroked his hair, feeling him soften and start to slip out of her stretched pussy. Thankfully, only halfway.

“Velora, you alright honey? Didn’t break I see. You’re too strong of a woman for that.” His familiar glow returned to his face as she looked down at him and nodded. 

“I’m better than I thought I would be. You might be the death of me yet Tommy. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to just relax again.” Her bubbly sounds had Tommy trace his hands along her love handles and back. 

“If anything, I’ll go first. You started it this morning, remember?” He reminded her as she raised up off his flaccid cock and plopped beside him and he pulled the covers over the both of them. His hands returned to her waist as she nuzzled in the crook of his neck. “We’ll have to check our injuries later, let’s get some sleep. I love you Velora.”

“I love you too Tommy.” The two found sleep in each other's arms for the time being.

The next morning…

A series of loud knocks was at Velora’s front door.

Sarah had been adamant about seeing her uncle Tommy. Joel and Tess tried to assure her that he’s fine, he’s resting up from his long flight, which might be true though Joel doubted it. The fact remind that he did leave his bags at his place from when he drove Velora home last night. Sarah was worried that Tommy may not be happy with Aunt V going out on dates and he could have argued with her and might be moping around his house. It was plausible and Tess found it convenient to need to drive into town for a meeting or two, which she did not have to do before this conversation started.

“You shoulda never told a child about grown folks business.. Tess.”

“Sarah’s a teen, not an idiot. She knows things have been weird with them. Plus she overheard Vel and I talking, I didn’t tell her anything.”

“And now you have to go? After you start some shit?”

“They were meetings I thought were pushed back and now the parties want to meet. It’s annoying and horrible timing but -”

“Seems like good timing for you.”

“Joel, don’t start that shit again. You always do this get mad at me and then-”

“And then you leave and stay gone, not talking to me for weeks or months at a time. Would it kill you to be consistent Tess? Lord knows I am.”

Tess held up her hands, done with the conversation for now. She headed for the door. “Joel, I’ll be back later tonight. Take that time to calm down so we can talk like two adults.”

Joel crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. He felt small arms wrap around him. “Dad, why don’t you just talk to her instead of picking a fight?” The older Miller brother kissed his daughter’s forehead and smiled. 

“Your old man’s stubborn as a mule baby girl. I gotta be right, even if it kills me.”

“We’re going to take uncle Tommy’s stuff by his house right? I want to show him my new trophy. I fell asleep before I could show him last night. Joel couldn’t say no even though he was fairly certain his brother wouldn’t be home. Gathering Tommy’s junk, he threw it in his truck and drove over to the house. His brother’s truck was absent from the driveway so since he had a key he dropped off the bags inside. Sarah still insisted on seeing him so he drove to Velora’s where now he was knocking on the door. 

When there was no answer, he turned to his daughter who shocked him once again,

“You think they’re going to be friends with benefits or actually date? But they know each other pretty well so maybe not for long. I’m going to be a bridesmaid or the maid of honor.”

“Sarah honey, that’s putting the cart before the horse baby girl.”

“Dad. I’m fourteen. I know these things.”

“Where did my sweet girl go? I don’t want you to know these things.”

Tommy climbed out of bed first, he heard chatter outside the door so he figured he had some time. He relieved himself in the bathroom and grabbed a warm rag for Vel, cleaning between her legs. He couldn’t help but use two fingers to push some of his cum that had leaked out back in, that made her flinch and wake up. “Good morning Sweet Pea, better late than never. Fell asleep before I could clean ya. Someone’s at the door. Goin’ to tell them to kick rocks.” She nodded and rolled over toward the nightstand to check the time, two in the afternoon? It was pretty late.

Tommy popped his jeans on and didn’t worry about boxers. The cold floor felt good under his bare feet as he walked to the door, now on the other side, he heard two voices that he didn’t want to see right this minute. “Welp, it was going to happen sooner or later.” He unlocked the door and swing it open, 

“Afternoon brother, little Peanut.” Joel noted Tommy’s messy hair that was sticking all over the place and that he seemed to have some bruises on his abdomen. Dammit, really? My daughter has to see you like this…

“Hey little brother. We took your crap to your house. You good? Your hair is a little…” Joel studdered, first Tess and now Tommy, why were the adults he knew so damn bothersome and exposing his sweet daughter to things she shouldn’t know until she’s his age, scratch that, he needs to be cold in the ground before Sarah even thinks about, such things.

“Uncle Tommy, is Aunt V alright? If you look like that, what does she look like? Did you put a hurt on her?” The youngest Miller asked with a head tilt. Both men remained silent. Joel was the one now with his arms crossed and rocking between his heels and the balls of his feet. 

“She’s taking a bit of a nap right now, Peanut. I can stop by the house later-” 

“I'm alright, You should maybe go get freshened up though Tommy.” Velora walked up behind Tommy in a loose gray t-shirt and black leggings and tugged on the waist of his jeans to signal he should head back inside. Vel stood in the doorway and gave a stern look to Sarah before bursting into laughter. “You’re a firecracker young lady. You’re going to give both your father and uncle heart attacks. Please let your father hold onto his dream that you’re still his baby girl.”

Sarah stepped forward and gave her aunt a hug, patting her back and niggling into her. She whispered, “Aunt V, you look a lot happier. Both Dad and Uncle Tommy can be kinda dumb so don’t be too mad at him.” Vel chuckled and patted the teen’s head,

“I won’t. I promise. All adults are dumb at times, Peanut. It’s our claim to fame. I love you, you little scamp.” She kissed her forehead and let her go, Joel nodded and he headed back to the truck and left with Sarah. Asking her questions about what she knew about ‘putting a hurt on someone’ and where she had heard it. He didn’t really want to know, he just needed to identify whose knees he needed to break for telling his daughter this information.

Tommy was in the shower, using Velora’s green tea and jasmine body wash. It smelled nice on her, he wasn’t much for smelling like a flower, but he did need to be clean. He was lathering his chest when his Sweet Pea entered the shower naked and put her hand over his, helping him to lather himself. He chuckled at her eagerness to touch him, he was planning on initiating later but he wasn’t opposed to having a bit of slippery fun. He reached beyond the shower curtain and grabbed a second washcloth, the basket they had been neatly folded in fell over, but that could be tidied later. Tommy was quick to wet it and turned around, nearly falling back against the shower wall at Vel’s hair in her hot pink shower cap. Her lips pinched together as she pushed slightly on his chest to signal she was not amused. 

“Sweet Pea, you can’t tell me that’s not funny though. It had to be that neon, bright ass pink?” He cackled in between her soft hits with the soapy washcloth.

“Dammit Tommy, you know I can’t get my hair wet unless I plan to wash it and do that whole process. Stop laughing..ha, ha.” The woman started giggling along with him, the pair of them laughing until they wheezed. 

Tommy took his washcloth and ran it over Velora’s shoulders and took special care under her arms. He rung the washcloth out over her breasts and added more of the body wash to make the lather thicker before circling around each breast, carefully lifting them from their lowered position. Velora continued to drag her washcloth across his chest, then around to his back until she lowered it just before reaching his butt. She then brought it back to the front and wiped up and down on his abdomen eliciting a few more chuckles from the mustached man. Tommy started in the middle of her stomach and branched out with larger strokes before starting on her back. He then paused,

“So how do you want to take care of below the waist?” 

“I think we should each do our own, I don’t trust you not to start fingering me and I don’t want soap in my pussy.” 

“You know me so well Sweet Pea.” He answered with a smirk and made sure to clean his cock and balls well and ended with his ass as Vel did the same. They rinsed off and Vel stepped out of the shower first to set a few towels on the floor to soak up the water she was dripping and to grab two towels, one for each of them. After drying off, Vel put on the same t-shirt and black capris she had on before, they had been fresh out of the drawer so she didn’t mind putting the back on. Tommy slipped on a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt from his drawer in Velora’s bedroom. Tommy headed to the kitchen to start some coffee and make some brunch. He found eggs, onions, peppers, cheese and toasted some bread with some apple butter. Velora was finishing up the bathroom when she smelled his cooking, her mother told her not to trust a man who can cook when she was younger, but Vel found it to be one of the many sexy qualities Tommy had, among others that she could put her hands on now.

She walked out to her small kitchen and got some plates and glasses down to get the table. It could fit four people comfortably though it was on the smaller side, with just the two of them, it was just the right size. Tommy dished up the food, he made three pieces of toast for each of them, after he set the frying pan in the sink and ran some water in it, they sat down to eat, in silence for the first few bites. 

“So…should we talk about things or…?”

“I mean we can. I guess we should start with whose house we’re gonna live in. Yours is on the smaller side Vel. makes sense since it’s just you living here, but…”

“No I mean, about before. We moved things pretty fast and you never told me about how your trip went with, well what you were going to do, though we weren’t really speaking at the time.” Velora moved a piece of her omelet around on her plate as she bit into her toast.

Sitting back in his chair, Tommy crossed his arms and sighed, “Do we really need to talk about it? I went, took care of my guys’ ashes and came back. Yeah I was gone longer, but I needed time to think. I couldn’t do that…”

“While you were here. While you may have to face me, is that it?” She asked, looking up from her plate. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“What about you? While I was gone, you’re out here setting up dates left and right. I know that was your one friend who doesn't think I’m shit who told you to do that and you did it! I had to hear it from Joel of all people. That was weird as shit.” he shook his head, recalling the conversation, it had been unnerving. 

Velora took a deep breath, “I told you about it when you came back and we finally talked before and we…I was honest about it. I didn’t need to hide, I came to fucking Joel’s house with all that damn pizza and listening to tess talking about meetings and travel! I didn’t want to go, seeing you…it, I was happy to know that you were okay, but I felt guilty and hurt Tommy.” Her eyes never parted from his, the intensity of them caused him to look away, but the veteran was drawn right back.

“I know. I was in shock when Sarah mentioned on the drive home that you were going to be there. I honestly didn’t think you would want to see me, given how I reacted when you said what you said after we made love. You can say it, you know Velora. We’ve made love twice now.” Tommy grinned, trying to lighten things up a bit, but to no avail.

“I know I told you that I needed time.” Velora paused to try and figure out her phrasing. Tommy titled his head, trying to anticipate what she may say, he hoped it wasn’t that they should see how things go. He was serious about moving their relationship forward. “I’d rather we talked about things and made some future plans. We skipped ahead on the babymaking front. I didn’t think I’d…well I knew I wanted to but…” Her cheeks were becoming hot once again, having a child with her best friend and crush Tommy Miller had been a fantasy. Now she may have actually done it without dating, marriage, deciding where they’re going to live, none of that. It made her giddy that he wanted to see her pregnant and have a child with her, but what would come with it? Was she prepared for that?

“Velora, well I won’t say relax because we’re needing to make some major decisions.” Tommy rose from his chair and stood behind Vel, placing one hand on each shoulder and kissed her temple. She took a few sips of water for her throat that was painfully dry now.  “One step at a time honey. It’s alright we don’t know right now. We just started this together. Plus we gotta move you into my house, this kitchen’s too damn small and I got room in my master bath to expand the shower.” Vel coughed on the water, setting an elbow on the table before cradling her forehead in it. 

“Lord above you really are trying to kill me Miller.” Their expressions of joy echoed through the small kitchen as they continued their meal and bikered about whose house should be sold, which mattress should be in the master bedroom and who has the better office.

Six months later…

Velora plops another rose near the mailbox. She already had brought three over from the back of Tommy’s truck. She had borrowed it to drive to the florist to pick up her order that she had placed last week. Set on adding more color to the front yard, she had added yellow tulips near the large front window that was off of the living room. Red was what she wanted on the corner around the mailbox. She took to gardening well, finding it was calming in addition to decorating her new home. She and Tommy had closed on her small home last month and were able to make a sizable profit from it. Due to the time constraints though, she sold much of her furniture except what was left to stage the house. Tommy, Joel and Sarah had helped moved her items into Tommy’s larger house. Velora had fussed about it, but she knew it was the right choice, moving into his house. It was her first house though, she remembered when Tommy had helped her move in.

Standing up from her leaning over position, she felt light-headed and had to lean on the mailbox, thankfully it was sturdy and she was quickly able to regain her balance. Her head swam for a minute but then calmed. It was happening more frequently and it worried her. Tommy had asked her to cut back on her hours at work, go to part time at the hospital. She was stubborn and refused, stating that it happened from time to time, she was fine, it would pass. It’s been two months of symptoms off and on again. What really worried her was her tender breasts and back pain. They didn’t seem connected and both had been happening since she hit puberty decades ago. She didn’t mention it to Tommy though, didn't want to worry him. Heading back inside the house, she called and made a doctor’s appointment, relenting that she may need to have things checked out, though whenever she had scans before they were always benign and she was advised to lose weight. “They’ll just tell me the same damn thing.”

Tommy was thriving, sure he had way too many pillows on his couch now, but he was able to convince Sweet Pea to keep some on the bed and in the guest bedrooms, at least break them up some. The little touches as far as plants, new colors of green, reds and yellows, nothing overbearing but more accents to his neutral home. In the pillows, but also in the towels, rugs, blankets for when they would watch movies on said couch and even a few shirts in his closet. He only wore those colors for her, no one else though. Tommy brought up the topic of marriage first saying that before a baby came, he wanted to have a ring on her finger and a certificate in his hand. Velora shook her head at him as usual and asked him how he planned to do that. She was washing dishes, wearing just one of her oversized t-shirts and panties. 

“Well, like this Sweet Pea. You thought you were gonna be stuck with me before. Now we’re going to make it official.”

“Miller, we moved in together three months ago, don’t you think it’s a little soon to-” His arms wrapped around her waist as he kissed her cheek.

“No it’s not. I told you we’d do one step at a time. This is the next step. We can make it big or small. Besides, I got this ring on sale.” He chuckled in her ear and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a small box. Vel dried her hands and turned around.

“Tommy I’m not taking some mood ring you got on…that’s a box. An actual box.”

“Yes. Wait, you thought I was gonna fake you out with a mood ring? What kind of man do you take me for?” Tommy exaggerated his fake outrage, crossing his hand over his chest and stumbling back. “You wound me…Vel how could you?” 

Velora shook head again, her face in her hands, not believing what she was seeing. The punk did get her a ring. She hadn’t asked for one, she honestly thought it would be next year before she got one, they hadn’t even made wedding plans yet. “You keep surprising me every day Tommy. I find you as annoying as much as I adore you.”

“I’ll take that as a yes honey. Put this on so I can see it on the pretty hand of yours.” He removed the gold ring from the box and slid it on her finger. He held her hand as he moved it around, it appeared to be a little loose. “I was sure I got the size right. Vel, did you lose some weight?” His eyes squinted at her hand, they didn’t look much different so he released her hand and grabbed her hips making her gasp.

“Tommy! I haven’t lost any weight. We just have to get it re-sized. I’m still going to wear it anyway until we do. It’s beautiful.” She admired it, a 6 mm band with 1 carat diamond in an oval setting. “Wait, how much was this?”

Tommy ignored the question, his hands were roaming her hips and love handles, she felt a little less, though she didn’t look it. He would know, the man felt her up daily, several times a day. “Sweet Pea, when’s your appointment? I’m going to come with you.” Vel kissed his cheek before placing her left hand on it.

“You don’t need to, I’m fine. They’re just going to tell me I need to rest or drink more water or lose weight like they always do. It’s why I usually just go for my physical yearly and not much else.” She explained. Tommy knew not to press her too hard on it, they were both stubborn so he would just worry instead. A distraction was in order they had gotten a new dining room table, Vel had called his old table “musty” for the mismatched driftwood it had been made of. The dark cherrywood suited the otherwise light room perfectly, drawing your attention to it. 

Tommy used his hands on his fiancé’s hips to guide her back toward the table, he reached and lifted her ass onto the table. “What’s gotten into you now? Don’t be picking me up like that. You’ll end up with a back like your brother.” He tugged on her panties pulling them down to her knees and then off. Squating, he used his forearms to part her thighs before nibbling her sensitive skin. 

“If I get a bad back from lifting you Sweet Pea, I’m gonna make sure it’s well earned. Let me taste my fiance. I wonder if now you’ll be more savory or honeyed.” He felt her put her legs over his shoulders and place her calves against his back, by now, she was aware of the position he wanted her in for his meals.

“How does that make any sense? Shit…don’t just use one love. I always need more.” Her hips bucked at the insertion of his finger, he was teasing her, leaning toward her mound and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with her scent, intoxicating as he found it.

“My greedy girl. I aim to please ya always.” A second digit followed, pumping into her down to the knuckle, usually he worked his fingers in slower but her juices were dribbling onto the wood table, making it glisten. “May have to use your nectar to polish the table later, Sweet Pea.” Tommy ran his other hand up her shirt, pulling it to reach her cushy belly. He placed a kiss on it before placing his hand on the small of her back and scooting her hips forward to start to curl his fingers inside of her, a small spongy depression he discovered inside her months ago that had her babble in between obscenities. Peering upward, his head was hung forward toward her chest, hands firmly on the table, arms taunt, forcing her pelvis to meet his hand. “Almost there Vel, a little more…” His thumb plucked the small bundle of red flesh hidden at the top of her slit. A feral growl left his love as his fingers were taken from her, thighs pulled his upper body forward. 

“Tommy…Either put your fingers back in or use your mouth. You will not leave me like this on our dining room table. Didn’t you just say you ‘aim to please’?” His snickers echoes against her drenched mound, his breath, rolling over her sweltering skin.

“I do, but you know I like my pleasantries. I’m a Southern gentleman.” Velora couldn’t see his face, but she could picture his lips curving upward, forever teasing her. She guessed she knew what it was about, she was able to keep her balance with one hand as the other twirled in his soft onyx waves.

“A gentleman now huh? Who leaves a lady wanting? Not sure I want a gentleman then. I want the same man who told me he was starving and I had to make sure he had a warm meal.” Her voice raspy from her screams, cracking when she spoke. Tommy flicked his tongue on her clit, then blew on it.

“Not my exact words, but I’d hate to make such a beautiful woman wait.” He felt Vel release his hair as he plunged into her moist cunt, lapping at entrance, grunting with the roll of her hips toward his face. His mustache tickled her clit each time he pulled back to take a small gasp of air. Her body went rigid as her peak was reached and Tommy shot up to wrap his arms around her waist easing her down on the table. “Easy Sweet Pea, easy Velora…” He kissed her chin, her hands reached for his face and licked his lips, 

“I think I’m more savory than Sweet love. May need to change my nickname.” The veteran’s head dropped into her chest, matching her laughter. He now knew how sturdy the new table was. It could stay.

One week later…

Joel pulled up to the florist’s shop. He needed to send flowers for the condolences of one of their frequent customers who would use them for construction contracts. The man’s mother had died and the elder Miller brother in his effort to be more sociable, was following more social cues. He also was doing what his daughter had suggested and ‘ghosting’ Tess. He didn’t feel great about it, but Sarah had advised to ignore her calls and texts since they couldn’t agree to which direction their relationship should go. Joel wanted a partner, someone who he would be comfortable having in his life with his daughter. Tess got along with Sarah just fine, because they didn’t spend much time together outside of a few weeks or a month. His sometimes partner was just fine with that arrangement, thus their disagreement. The man was currently distracted though so he wouldn’t be answering any calls, he was placing his order with the same florist who V had been getting her flowers from. On the glowing recommendation, he ventured into the shop and was met with a woman who had a silver streak in her otherwise strawberry blonde hair. She gave him a warm smile, wiped her hands off on her apron before reaching out for a handshake, it was firm and she had callaouses as well from the different plants she had worked with, a small pink mark was on her neck. Joel wondered what it was from, he did eventually place his order, but they ended up comparing handshakes, whose accent was stronger, discussing children, trucks and work boots. A warmth that Joel hadn’t felt since his wife passed spread in his chest, her name Andy, she had told him like the sheriff from ‘The Andy Griffith Show.” The two laughed over the reference and that their children had no idea who the man was. 

Velora sat next to Tommy on the plane. He had asked her to set aside three particular weeks in September. Vel agreed as long as he didn’t have a flash mob or a minister to marry them at an airport. He defended himself by telling her she may be the one to take them to a drive through wedding chapel if she can find one, just to save some time and money. Her head found Tommy’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She felt safe and terrified. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with him before leaving the country, well maybe she did, but she got cold feet, she was also nervous. It was happy news, but more than anything, she didn’t want to stop working. She knew Tommy would insist on her not working or at the very least, going on light duty, a compromise. Not a bad one if she was being honest. The flight was nearly thirteen hours, Tommy had done this by himself? There were points when they did move around and chat about what their actual wedding plans would be. Something small at the courthouse with immediate family and a reception at their house in the backyard, unsure of where they were going for their honeymoon, it was decided they could figure that one out later. Holding Tommy’s hand as the plane finally started its descent, Velora resolved to tell him one way or another. 

The emerald grass crunched under their boots as they walked gingerly in the forest behind the cabin they were staying in. It was cozy and Tommy smiled to himself that Vel was indeed holding onto his arm for any warmth she could gather. He surprised her with the destination of Ireland, but he wanted to show her it’s beauty that he had seen on a much more somber trip. His fiance had been the first person he thought to bring here besides his brother and niece. They were on their way back from the same rocky outcrop that he spread the ashes over some months ago. Velora held his hand as he teared at the memory, glad that she was here with him this time and for every journey the pair would take after. Velora stopped and Tommy did as well, wondering why she had stopped walking.

“We’re almost there Sweet Pea. We can warm up and drink hot chocolate. Might even go out and try some brennivin. One glass though, it will knock you on your ass, almost got me.” He was trying to lighten the mood after this visit to the site. Vel shook her head and it made him confused, she looked nervous.

“I-I have something to tell you. Honestly, I had to think about it and wrap my head around it, because normally it's never anything.” A strong gust blew through the trees whipping the leaves loudly to where the puzzled man saw her mouth move but didn’t hear. He made out, ‘we’re…’ What? All of her body language changed, like she was about to burst, whatever it was it was happy, so was it what he thought?

“Say again Vel, I can’t hear you.” He pointed to his ears but she lunged toward him and cupped his face, giving his lips a peck. The wind had started to calm but was tossing her ponytail in every direction. “Tell me what earned me that.” He grinned.

“We’re pregnant! You’re going to be a father Tommy!” Snot was starting to run down her nose and her eyes were squinted due to the air currents, a mess, but to Tommy it was the face of the mother of his child. The only face he needed to see until the baby was born. His outcry of joy was matched by the enthusiasm in which he picked up Velora and spun her around. She screamed for him to put her down, her laughter spurring him on, eventually he did and tugged her along to their cabin where they lit the fireplace. 

Tommy insisted that they shower and she spread out on the bed so he can put his head to her belly. She assured her fiance that it was too early for that but no was not an option. As her nails lightly scratched his scalp, Tommy rubbed his head on his other half’s stomach, knowing that a new life was growing inside of her.

“Thank you Velora. You’ve given me so much over the years. Now you’re giving me a little Miller and a future too. I love you Sweet Pea.” Closing his eyes, he listened to Velora breathe, her hand was still in his hair but she had fallen asleep. With a light huff, his fingers ran up her arm and traced her jaw, ending on her soft lips. “I’ll tell you again when you wake up, Velora. Rest up honey, we’ve a long road ahead together.”

Moots who might like it: @maggiemayhemnj @laurfilijames @rhoorl @fhatbhabie @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @guelyury @perotovar @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @morallyinept @legendary-pink-dot @undercoverpena @beabliss @grogusmum @sp00kymulderr @magpiepillsjunior @for-a-longlongtime @pamasaur @linzels-blog @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

[rallamajoop]

Eveline, the Connections, and the buried D-series lore

A surprising number of unused text files can be found by datamining the RE7 game file (I found next to nothing in RE8, for comparison). Many look to come from an earlier version of Mia's sequence on the tanker, which I may get to posting about those later ‒ but by far the most fascinating are a series of three files about the the E-series project, adding names and a whole tragic backstory to a couple of humble key items that are still in the game: the D-series arm and head.

These three documents were presumably earlier drafts of those you can still find in the final lab, though they contain a number of details missing from the final game. I'll share all three below, but we'll start with the second, because it's by far the most interesting.

Biological Weapons Development 2 We've decided that the biological weapon should look like a young girl. That way it will be easy to slip it into groups of, for example, refugees. In early ■■■■, 1999, Dr. Olivia ■■■'s team infected a human embryo with ■■ from ■■■■, creating four prototypes. These were named, Dana, Dahlia, Darlene, and Dorothy. The D-Series was able to control the thoughts of others by making them ingest a mold-like secretion. The initial symptoms caused by this secretion are visual and auditory hallucinations, and ■■■■. The secretion also erodes the target's cerebral ■■■. As the infection progresses, the target develops strong feelings of friendship towards the girls, and actively seeks to serve them. It is also possible for the secretion to fuse with the target's somatic cells, causing mutations in the body's physical structure. D-001 Dana Deceased (■■■■) D-002 Dahlia Deceased (Decrepit at 319 days) D-003 Darlene Deceased (Infection) D-004 Dorothy Disposed of due to poor performance D-005 Dolores Suicide D-006 Diana Killed by D-005 D-007 Daniella Killed by D-005 D-008 Doris Deceased (■■■■■■) E-001 Eveline Stable [Progress under observation]

(Excuse the slightly-wonky table at the bottom ‒ it's the best I could easily do for tumblr.)

There's a real SCP vibe to all those clinical details and tantalising redactions ‒ far more is redacted in these early versions than in any file that made it into the game. What really killed Dana and Doris? We don't know, but the idea of causes worse than what's reported for other subjects is nasty stuff.

The most striking implication in this list is the story of poor Dolores, who killed two of her sisters (Dolores and Diana, D-006 and 7) before killing herself. We don't know why or how it happened, but Dolores was D-005, which is a number you might have seen before:

Well, shit. That poor damn thing.

The D-series arm belonged D-002 ‒ Dahlia, who was apparently 'decrepit after 319 days', so very likely affected by the same rapid aging as Eveline.

You find the arm attached to a horrifying corpse-doll-thing, the arm itself allegedly gifted to Marguerite by Eveline soon after her arrival. And speaking of this particular asset, the fact this arm seems to have tried to grow a whole new head even after being severed is a wonderfully creepy bit of detail.

I didn't find it strange that both components would have been on the ship with Eveline ‒ they're required components for making anti-infection serum, which might well be needed in transit or at their destination, and perhaps those components have a longer shelf-life than the serum itself. But the third document in the series tells us there was rather more to the fact that Eveline herself had that arm in her possession.

Biological Weapons Development 3 Eveline (E-001) has displayed remarkable results in performance tests against mice, ■■■■, monkeys, and humans. Finally, we have a biological weapon we can use. Unfortunately, her metabolic functions are lacking, meaning she still requires doses of ■■■■■. If ■■■■■ is not administered, the somatic cells age rapidly, and in a worst-case scenario ■■■■ may also occur. An attendant will be required to administer regular doses of ■■■■■ to Eveline. Having observed Eveline (E-001), we have noticed several interesting points: ・ Eveline has a tendency to regard the targets she gains control of as "family." It seems that gaining control of humans has a special meaning for her. ・ She treats part of ■■■■■■'s (D-0■■) corpse as a treasured possession. Perhaps she regards it as a memento mori from one of her sisters? ・ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. Perhaps ■■■■■■■■■■. Those infected with D-Series secretions can be treated with a special serum. The serum can be synthesized by ■■■■■■■■ing D-Series somatic cell tissue. In case of accidental infection, administer the serum as quickly as possible. Be aware, however, that the serum is only effective against mild infections. Administering the serum to those with severe infections can result in the infected cells coagulating and ■■■■, and may even result in death. Be sure to administer the serum at the appropriate time.

So apparently Eveline was in the habit of carting poor Dahlia's severed arm around with her, as some kind of twisted memento. Dahlia most likely died long before Eveline's creation, which does not make that detail less creepy.

Though it's much less interesting than the latter two, here's the first file in the series too:

Biological Weapons Development 1 This program started in 1997 with financial backing from ■ ■ ■ ■. The aim was to create a biological weapon that could take control of enemy groups without having to engage them in combat. This gives the program an advantage that differentiates it from previous biological weapon developments: it lets us turn our enemies into allies. Soon, those who once opposed us will voluntarily become our friends, serving us as required. With this program we can increase our allies while avoiding the costs associated with military engagements and having to deal with prisoners of war… The governments of ■ ■ ■ ■ and ■ ■ ■ may also be interested in this new program too.

Still no detail in any of these to explain why the two arms so very clearly attached to the D-series ""head"" were apparently not fit for purpose, but eventually you've got to just shrug and go with this stuff.

All these files are not so much "cut" content as older drafts that were accidentally left in the game, and they contradict the versions that did make it in in a few places ‒ for example, the draft version puts the project's beginnings in 1997, whereas the final version moves that date forward to 2000. But it's a real shame all that detail on the D-series was cut, because it adds so much context to elements that did make it into the finished game. The game still works without them, but I'd venture the whole picture is that little bit richer for knowing about them.

[sakarrie-creates]

It’s that time of year! Here’s my 2023 art summary! After two years of having to include non-colored pieces, I finally did enough ‘full’ pieces to fill my art summary template! I did have to get a bit creative with the months since I was able to draw a LOT more during the summer, but I’ll take it! Sorry it's a bit blurry. I'm not sure if that's just for the preview or not, but it was a smaller file than normal and since these reflections are 99% for my own interest, I decided it wasn't worth trying to change.

As usual, I got rambly so reflection questions are answered under the cut. The template I used is available here in case anyone else wants to make their own! My fic summary will be coming in a week or so, so stay tuned for the stats and round-up there. :)

What events did you participate in (with art)? Player Appreciation Week, Fandom Trumps Hate, Dear Fellow Traveler (Animatic), Weird People (Editing), SPN Comfortably Queer Zine (dropped), and lots of zine applications for page artist, merch artist, comic artist, and spot artist roles!

What was your biggest challenge this year? While time, like last year, was still a challenge, I think my biggest challenge was a mix of low motivation and an intense perfectionistic mindset. At the start of the year, I got super into TOH and was super hyped about all the zines with apps opening. I really REALLY wanted to get into them and figured I should apply for art too just cause it would increase my overall chances of getting in. After the finale, I did a screenshot redraw that ended up being absolutely fantastic for where my skill level is. I went deeper into rendering than ever before, and somehow it worked for me. 

That probably was the start of my unreasonably high expectations, and I got it into my head that maybe if I could make a whole portfolio of artwork at that quality level, I actually stood a chance at getting into a zine as an artist. From then on, I was hardcore crash-coursing perspective, rendering techniques, and generally trying to improve without allowing room for mistakes. While I do think it helped me grow a lot, it burnt me out so I struggled to work on stuff past summary (when all the zine apps were) and even dropped from the SPN Comfortably Queer Zine cause my imposter syndrome was so strong. (Though that was also partially because it was a ‘sign-up and you’re in’ zine, so they never saw my art during the application process and had no way of knowing if I was good enough.

What was something you were surprised by? I’m pretty sure I discovered the perspective tool is CSP this year! CSP has so many tools I’m not aware of (despite watching tons of tutorials and guides), so it wasn’t super surprising but it was nice. I have to say, they’re a serious hassle to work with and require a higher understanding of vanishing points and such than I currently have, but I could see it being very useful for future scene art pieces.

Did you try anything new this year?

Yes! This year I kicked down the door to the merch world and have been collecting and designing throughout the year. Though the designs have mostly just been for zine app portfolio’s, everything has worked out really well for me and I hope to produce charms for my collection as I improve my skills. Where do you think you most improved? Definitely my confidence in rendering! And probably my rendering itself too. I did a ton more pieces with it this year and it’s definitely a favorite part of the art process for me. I think I’ll have a lot more fun with it this year too, since I’m trying to keep it lower pressure, so I can experiment more to find out what brushes and styles I like most. What are you most proud of? I think I’m most proud of how ambitious I was with my zine apps. Though I didn’t get into any for art and it burned me out a fair bit, I did a lot of hard work and made pieces I can be mostly happy with. As for specific pieces, I’m very proud of my animatic clip for the Dear Fellow Traveler MAP (which is what the Belos art from the summary is from). My portion was about 5 seconds with 24 fully colored and shaded frames. A few of those were moving frames too, so the end result is the closest thing to actual animation I’ve done. I also really like the rendering on the Huntlow Epilogue art and generally how the Steve&Matt hug turned out.

How’d this year compare to your 2023 goals? I honestly couldn’t remember what my goals were, but all things considered, I didn’t do too bad! Thankfully past-Sakarrie was wise and made it a bullet list so I can just check things off. Met: -Player Appreciation Week -Add to zine portfolio -Apply to at least one zine as an artist (fine if don’t get accepted) -Keep experimenting with backgrounds and shading -Pull out some old WIPs -Build more consistency of style

The checked off ones I definitely met, so good for me! This was a very zine-focused year, so I way exceeded those goals. The last two I did do, but they’re a bit subjective. Specifically, I think the ‘WIPs’ I was referring to were old sketches, but most of the old WIPs I revisited were already colored and I was either adding rendered or cleaning them up for zine usage. As for style, I’m REALLY bad at telling haha. That said, my characters seem reasonably similar when I draw them, so I’m going to tentatively count it. Kinda: -One fully colored piece per month

I’m gonna give myself a half check on this one. I didn’t have a fully colored piece every month, but I did have over 12 fully rendered pieces in the end, several of which had backgrounds. So while I didn’t meet the letter of the goal, I feel like I met the spirit of it.

Did Not Meet: -Finish Huntlow comic -30 minutes animatic digitalize rough draft -Maybe make some fanart of my favorite fics

These don’t shock me. They’re all personal projects and this was a very external-goal-driven year for me. The Huntlow comic is a big love of mine but it’s definitely ambitious for where my skill is. I’ve got the whole thing messy-sketched and most of it has been clean sketched, but the jump from that to lineart is gonna be hard, and I have no idea what I’d be doing with color since the panels don’t have a background. That said, I do feel like it’s some solid work and I adore the angst vibe of it, so maybe I’ll get it done one day. I could also see myself posting it as a messy lineart comic so that others could enjoy the concept being executed in case it never gets finished.

As for the 30 Minutes animatic, I still 100% intend to complete it eventually. I love the way it fits to the music and I’m so proud of the thumbnails. Even if it never becomes a full animatic, I want to digitize the frames and line it up with music so I can share the concept I see in my mind with others. My brain was somewhat overtaken suddenly by TOH this year, so now that that’s settled and I’m hoping to follow my muse more this year, maybe this will be something I can get excited about again.

The fanart for favorite fics is no surprise since it’s kinda the tack on. With low motivation and projects with deadlines that needed my focus, personal art like this was buried way below other priorities. It’s a nice though for sure though.

Alrighty then, now it’s time for 2024 goals!! Oh goodness, I really don’t know what to expect of myself. I definitely am going to try to allow for more personal projects with lower pressure, but I do still have some goals. Hopefully most can be accomplished without applying big pressure though.

2024 Goals:

-Number One Priority: Create for my and don’t put myself in a place to get crazy burnt out and still have requirements. If I meet this goal, then it’s okay if I don’t meet any of the others. (It would be sad.... But I would still count it as meeting overall goals.) -Participate in Summergen and PAW Week (Art or Fic) -Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November) -Design CS Charm -Have a fully usable Zine Portfolio (Currently need more merch samples and rendered pieces with backgrounds) -Apply to new TOH Zines or other loved fandom zines. If I end up getting into any, I can pull back, but since that doesn’t seem likely, I want to get into the habit of always being ready to apply with what I have. -Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 10 times throughout the year) and add my best pieces to instagram (8+ pieces by end of year). -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes digitized so it can be shared with music      2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail      3. Fanworks for other people’s fics      4. Participate in an extra bang or exchange with art      5. Design and manufacture a pin -Play with different brushes and rendering styles -Draw something from scratch every month, no matter how small -Not exactly art, but I want to have a finalized long-term merch display plan for all my items Overall, how’d the year go? I think I did well! I didn’t meet all my goals and I pushed myself too far, but I learned and improved a LOT this year. All things considered, I made pieces that last year me would be blown away by, so I think that’s an automatic win. I’m pretty uncertain on how this next year will go (even more so than last year, which is surprising since I was changing schools last year), but I’m hoping to enjoy what I do and create art semi-regularly. Here’s to 2024!

[wonderinglostsoul]

Criminal mind fanfic Chapter 4

Continuation of my Criminal minds fanfic. I really suck on titles

Master list:

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You are an FBI agent with a past and you were about to enter the BAU.

Trigger warning: BAU stuff like killing, violence, assault, mention of rape and suicide. I tried not to get too graphic with the description

Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Reid arrived at the station. Morgan was still monitoring the search for the unsub. JJ excuse her self and went to the rest room while Rossi was asking for an update. The unsub was not located yet. JJ comes back looking around, alittle bit worried.

"Where is [Y/N]?" She asked when she rejoined the group.

"She was just getting her phone at the car. I asked a officer to accompany her.  Hey!" Morgan spotted the officer that accompanied her " Where is agent [Y/N]?"

The officer was puzzled and started to look around. "I thought she comes back already."

"But you did accompany her outside." Morgan asked.

"No, she said she can handle it and that I should comeback inside." The police said. Morgan face went pale. Hotch immediately run outside, followed by the rest of the team. JJ trying to call her cell

"Its directing to voicemail." JJ said.

At the parking lot they saw the SUV. The door was still open on the passenger seat. Hotch saw blood on the ground and your cellphone, smashed. He opened the passenger door and the keys was on the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry, Hotch, I should have stayed with her." Morgan said.

"Did the unsub see her face?" Hotch said.

"Yeah, I think so. She was able to corner him but the unsub slip away." Morgan said.

"He must have targeted and followed her here. He knows she is FBI and waited for the opportunity." Hotch said under his breathe. "Morgan, JJ join the search team near the unsub's house. Reid, you will come with me to join the other group patrolling the area. Rossi, stay here and monitor the situation. Please call Garcia. asked her if she has anything with Michael." Hotch instruct everyone. They all run to the SUV and joined the search party.

Rossi call Garcia. "Garcia, can you please check any property under Michael Tate's name?" Rossi asked her while returning back to the station.

"There is none sir," Garcia said.

He ran his hand in his head because of frustration. "How about a place he most frequently go that was private." Garcia typed again.

"I checked all of his transaction but there is no place like that sir." She said. Sad that she cannot help.

"Damn, how can we find this guy!" Rossi said in frustration,

"Sir, is everything alright."

"No Garcia, [Y/N] was kidnapped by the unsub." Rossi exclaimed.

"Oh" Garcia mumbled. Rossi heard that she was typing on her keyboard. "I found her sir."

"What? How?" Rossi asked. There was shocked in his voice but he was also impressed.

"Before you flew to las vegas, Agent [Y/N] asked me to activate a tracking device on her necklace. I sent you all the coordinates." Penelope said.

Rossi were dumbfounded. How did she know that she will need it.

He put everyone on conference call. "Garcia sent the coordinates. [Y/N] was there."

"How did you know that?" Morgan asked

"Garcia did. Apparently, she asked garcia to enable a tracking device on her necklace." Rossi answered.

"What?" Morgan said.

"I am as surprised as you do" Rossi said.

"This address," Reid interrupted. "This is Christine's house." He remember the case file of Christine.

"Thanks Rossi!" Hotch said. They all went to the address while Rossi notified the commander to provide them some backup.

You wake up and saw that you were in some kind of a barn. Your whole body was aching especially your head. You are seated while your hands are tied, raised and was hanging on a chain. You were trying to make sense of your surroundings when the chain suddenly started moving and pulling you up. When you are standing up and slightly elevated from the ground. The unsub emerge from the shadows. He was holding a big chunk of wood. He was approaching you.

"It really baffled me to see you in the forest. I thought you were Christine risen from the dead. Sure you look a little older than the last time I saw her but you are still as beautiful." He said looking you at your face. He was trying to touch your face but you look away immediately. "But I know you are not Christine, no one will ever come close to her." Then he started swinging the wood. It hits your stomach. It hurts than it usually should because of the earlier injury from Andrew. He hit again, this time you are pretty sure that your ribs are broken. You were wincing. But still managed to speak.

"Can you please....stop hitting my stomach. My ribs are already broken." You said panting. "Hit my thigh."

"What?" The unsub said and swing again, You were able to avoid your already broken rib but he hit your lower back and your were afraid that your kidneys might be damaged.

"I told you to hit my thigh because there is no vital organ there." You manage to let out  despite the pain. "I...know that... you dont want to kill me.... Just like how you dont meant to kill Christine."

The unsub was shocked. No one knows what really happened that night.

"YES, I know that Christine did not kill herself. You did! She rejected you and told you that she wanted Andrew." You told him. The memories came back to him and he somehow lost it so you added. "It is Andrew that I choose!"

"He will not like you! He likes girls you wear dress and stilettos!" He shouted at you and then took another swing. Good thing it was low and hit your thigh. Now you understood the reference of the dress. The only thing to do now is to subdue the unsub.

"Michael. Please, understand that even if my love for you is not romantic. You are still the most important person for me." You told him.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes. You were always there for me and I will be the same to you. Please stop this. Put me down so I can help you too" You said. He looked at you. Sadness in his eyes. He was like that for a second and then he move closer to you . He reached out to your hands, holding the twine binding your hand. He leaned forward and whispered to your ear "You are not Christine." Then he started to swing the wood again. Hitting you on various part of your body. You braced for impact. You were used to torture but this one is different, when you were tortured you know that there are things that they wanted to know so killing you was not an option but for this one, you know he was really trying to kill you. You cannot fight as well since your ribs are broken. You dont have any upper body strength to use your legs. The only thing that you can think of is your team. You hope that garcia has provided them with your coordinates. You were hoping that Hotch would bust in and save you. And then you heard his voice.

"FBI! Lower your weapon!" You open your eyes and saw some figure at the entrance. But you cannot recognize any of them because they were blurry. The beating also stop.   

"Put down your weapon!" Is that Morgan? Then you hear the wood hitting the floor.

You hear foot step approaching but you cannot see who is it because you can't barely open your eyes.

"[Y/N] are you okay?" You can hear Hotch voice. You tried to lift your head and open your eyes to see him but your vision was too blurry.

Hotch tried to untie you but it was too tight. He shouted to Reid to lower the chains so that he can remove your tied hands of the lift. You can feel your body moving down so you tried to flat your feet on the ground. However, your legs was to weak and you almost fell down. Good think Hotch was there. He was able to catch you, holding your waist. He lift your tied hands to remove it on the hook. He asked you if you can walk. Of course you said yes. You even tried to stand up and move your feet but your whole body was weak so Hotch put your tied hand around his neck and lifted you, princess style. He carry you outside, the medic has just arrived and readying the stretcher. You can smell Hotch's sweat and cologne, they were sweet and comforting. You were not aware but you are burying your face on his shoulder like a child finding a comfortable spot on a bed. Hotch did not mind this. He knows you were just trying to be comfortable. When the stretcher was ready, Hotch lay you down. The paramedic started to check your vitals and injury. They put neck brace and some first aid. They check your ribs and you wince.

"Her ribs are broken and there were bruises all over her body." The medic said. "Good thing you arrived in time. If this continue for another minute she might die." The medic said.

"I am fine." You said. Still panting.

"Thats great, but we still need to bring you to the hospital." The medic said. They put me in the ambulance and then they asked Hotch if he will be riding with them. He hesitated for a momenting. Not wanting to leave the team behind. You hear Morgan telling Hotch that they can handle the crime scene. So Hotch finally agrees to join you in the ambulance.

You opened your eyes and saw Hotch. He was talking to the medic. He was so serious, eyes are worried. He really looked like someone with authority. It makes you smile. Both of them notice that you were conscious.

"Are you okay? Anything else thats hurting?" Hotch asked.

"No, just my head and my ribs. I think they were broken. I am asking the unsub not to hit my upper body instead hit my thigh but he is not listening" You said jokingly. Hotch smiled at that. His face somehow lights up and looks younger,

"You are really handsome when you smile." You said and then slowly you slip into the unconsciousness. Hotch eyes widen on this remark, even the paramedic was shocked. He and Hotch look at each other and then Hotch cleared his throat and call your name you are not answering. The paramedic said that it was ok, you are most probably tired. The ambulance arrived at the hospital. You were rushed to the emergency room. The doctor ordered some test like xrays and CT scans for you. They also did some mending on your bruises. Hotch was in the waiting room when the rest of the team arrived. He just mentioned that you are still being tested.

After a few hours the doctor face everyone. "She is going to be alright. She has 2 broken ribs on her right side and bruises on her head and the rest of her body but nothing was critical. We just need to observe her for a few days."

"Can we see her?" Asked Reid.

"Yes, but she's still sleeping. This way." The doctor bring the whole team to your room.

[sdaomine]

'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

==

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun—a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively,  hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

==

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

==

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he  couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn’t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

==

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

==

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

==

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach) - Chapter 8 -Final

When Renji was asked to deliver paperwork to the twelfth squad, he did not expect to hear what was going on behind the door.

“I-It’s too big! I-It won’t fit!”

Mayuri grunted.

“Quit your squirming, it’s almost in.”

Another sound left your lips and Renji slammed the door open.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING!!”

He was huffing and you both turned your head. Renji’s face was blank when he saw the metal box in your hand. It looked like one of the many items the research lab tended to tinker with. You were holding one side as Mayuri held the other trying to push a pole through the very narrow hole.

“Is there a reason you’re yelling?”

Mayuri did not seem amused and Renji rubbed his head angrily, handing over the papers as he stormed off.

“Why was he so mad?” You quizzed.

Mayuri could care less. He dropped the device disinterested.

“I’ll have to construct a new one.” He advised.

You just nod, following his lead.

It’s not weird for you to be working with Mayuri. He’s begun to bring you in on a few of his projects. Nemu typically did most of the heavy lifting since you lack the knowledge in this field. So you just helped in any way you can.

Mayuri is digging through one of the closets and you stand at the side, waiting for instruction. He straightens, looking a bit irritated.

“It seems that was our last modifier. I’ll have to build another from scratch.” He doesn’t look too happy.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

He did that sometimes when he just needed to think.

“Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll be right here.”

With a bright smile, you salute. Mayuri is used to your behavior. You think he’s just going to leave, but he moves closer to you. When he places a hand on your cheek, you immediately flush. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, he just licks his lips, heading off. Leaving you there with steam practically coming out of your head.

“Kurotsuchi-taicho..”

He’s been doing that a lot. Hitting you with those little affectionate surprises. You watch the path that he’d left, cheeks warm.

“How unfair.”

He really knows how to get you frazzled.

For the next fifteen minutes you try to tidy up the lab. His space is typically a little messy and although he never voices it, he does appreciate when you organize his stuff. You’ve figured out a system where he can have a sense of organized chaos. This way he’s content and it isn’t messy.

Once you’re done you feel a sense of accomplishment. Your eyes spot a particular file and when you see your name, you can’t help but peek into it.

You flip it open, reading over the scribbled notes.

“(Y/N) (L/N) holds a remarkable amount of power. Her consciousness is physically linked to her zanpaktou. My studies have uncovered that during the rebellion, her weapon may have been of the few unaffected by Maramusa’s control. Her abilities need to be studied closely.”

You scan through the many notes, all with dates attached, marking progress and or breakthroughs.

“My analysis was correct, her zanpaktou is able to reconstruct itself. Intriguing indeed.”

“There has been a change since she has been reinstated as a reaper. Her body is not completely affected by physical injuries. Her healing factor has remarkably improved. I need to study her progress.”

One particular sheet seems tucked a bit under the rest. You slide it out.

“It seems I’m beginning to have a physical response to her. I initially thought my interest in her power was attracting me, but this is both chemical and emotional. I have been having certain thoughts. Examining her, exploring her, entering her..”

Your eyes widen and you drop the paper, face red.

The date on the sheet lines up with the time you’d started coming in more frequently after you’d been approved to return to duty. The thought of him thinking of you that way since then, it makes you hot. You always thought Mayuri was emotionally unattached back then. So of course you never even considered the both of you. It was enough just to be with him.

Seeing his thoughts so effortlessly expressed on the paper is affecting you.

Yes, you both have shared kisses, but it hasn’t advanced any further than that.

The thought of him doing all those things he’d written is invigorating, arousing.

“What are you doing?”

You spin around, ready to deny everything, but the sight before you is another shock to your system. The man standing there is not the one who’d walked out of the room earlier .

Blue hair, even features. He’s wearing nothing but the bottom part of his robes, and you let out a shaking breath. You’d like to say this is another person, but that nonchalant stare and those eyes, you’d recognize them anywhere. You can’t believe that you never once wondered what he looked like underneath all that makeup. Your brain just sort of came to the conclusion that he was born that way.

His hair is still dripping, and he frowns.

“Are you that put off by my appearance?”

Put off was definitely not the word you would use. You can’t get any words out, and he flash steps, landing right in front of you. He looks ready to say something, but he takes in the way your eyes shake, your lips quivers. Cheeks bright red.

His eyes shift to the table, and when he sees the document you’d just been reading, they move back in your direction.

“Does it scare you.”

It sounds more like a challenge than a question. He’s just looking at you and you feel as though you’ll combust on the spot.

“Are you terrified?”

Another challenge, almost like he wants to hear your reply. He wants an honest evaluation.

You finally work up what little courage you have. Reaching out your hand, he just watches. You place it right on his chest, and your heart beat increases. This time when you look at him, Mayuri is the one who feels as though he should backtrack, because the desire you express hits him with the precision of a sharp blade, right through his chest.

“Mayuri..”

It’s the first time you’ve called him so informally, and he decides at that moment that he never wants to hear any different. His lips slant over yours with the urgency of a man that’s been starved. Your body is pulled to his and you welcome it. You don’t truly register it when he once again disappears. It only becomes apparent when you feel your back on the softness of a mattress. Mayuri parts, only to look at you. Those golden hues seem to have changed to a darker color, or maybe that’s just your imagination. His desire is a mirror of your own. He’s fairly built, not that you’re surprised. His robes have always given an outline of broad shoulders. Now you have the pleasure of seeing them without the restrictions of those clothing.

“Is this what you want?”

The fact that he asks, as if ensuring that you’re comfortable, makes you want it even more. You nod, reaching for your own robes as you begin pulling and tugging to get them loose. A smirk plants itself on his lips at your impatience. He helps you to sit upright, gently pushing your hands away so he can assist. 

Your hands lower, and he easily slides the knot at your waist loose. The entire garment comes apart, and the material sags on your shoulder. All of his movements are so slow, controlled, like he’s trying to enjoy this entire moment. Mayuri is so much more tender than you expect for someone who usually displays no emotional or romantic interest.

It takes a moment and you’re completely naked. His tongue slides over his upper lip, almost like he’s dying to finally kiss every inch of your body. He shoots forward, kissing you and you both fall back onto the bed. You can feel the tightness of his muscles, and the cloth of his lower robes that are brushing your legs. You moan at the friction. It’s when he finally cups your breast that you truly cry out. Mayuri pulls back, smirking as he litters your neck with kisses.

“What a beautiful sound..”

You whimper, because his lips seem to be moving down. You’re still a bit dazed from the touch, so you don’t register it until he parts your legs. Your brain picks up with the rest of your body and the last thing you see is that little smirk before his lips find your center. Your eyes spring open at the sensation and you grasp at the pillow at the sides of your head with his tongue invading your most sensitive area.

“M-MAYURI!!

Your scream could probably be heard from miles away. Your back arches, because his appendage is touching places you’ve only ever dreamed of. The shockwaves of pleasure that rush through your body are hard to control. The wet noises of his tongue lapping at you so hungrily is too much to take. His teeth nick your clit and your mind is gone. You jerk forcefully as your release rips through your body. Mayuri is more than satisfied, he licks and sucks until your body finally settles back and all he can hear is your little content whimpering.

Mayuri straightens, taking in the satisfied expression you display. Your chest is still rising and falling a bit quicker than usual. It's obvious you’re trying to get it all back to normal rhythm. He lifts a hand pushing his hair out of his face. The action gives you a beautiful sight of the tight muscles of his upper body. It’s only when he reaches for the tie of his bottom robes that you find yourself anticipating it. He frees himself of the garment and you drink in the sight of him. He’s erect, almost painfully so.

You can still feel the slickness between your legs. You’re twitching, desperate for him.

“Do you want this?”

Another question to confirm your consent. Tears prickle at the edge of your eyes because you want him so bad and it feels like he’s almost taunting you at this point.

“Please! P-Please…Please..”

You don’t care if you’re begging, you need this.

That’s apparently all the encouragement he needs, because he rejoins you on the bed, and the second he’s close, you pull him in for a kiss. One that he reciprocates happily. His hands spread your legs slowly, and you wrap them around his hips and he eases himself in. You both release a sound at the action. Mayuri breaks the kiss to gather a breath, and you hold on, ready for him to completely fill you up, make you entirely his.

He hisses at the resistance, and you shut your eyes. He pauses and you whimper again.

“I-I’m sorry..”

You haven’t exactly done this before, so it’s no wonder that he’s having some difficulty.

“It would be foolish to apologize for something like this..your body is exquisite.”

It sounds like he’s scolding you for apologizing for something clearly out of your control. You blush and smile. Mayuri turns, looking at you, a little glare on his face.

“You’re irritatingly irresistible, it’s vexing.” He mumbles.

Your smile grows wider.

Deciding that you might have to be the one to make the next move, you lick your lips and jerk your hips forward.

Mayuri staggers at the action, breath caught in his throat as your hips are now joined. He’s fully inside you, his breath at your ear, uneven.

“Y-You crazy..”

He means to say something else, but the warmth of you encompassing his length is almost too much for him to produce words right now. Maybe you should have taken a gentler approach, but Mayuri has always been the one carrying out tests, this time it felt like your turn.

“Gomen, I was impatient.” 

You mumbled, clearly just as affected by your new connectedness.

Your legs loosen their grip on his hips, and you urge him to move. The feel of his stillness is making you even more impatient.

“P-Please move Mayuri.”

You plead.

He huffs, trying to work up a glare. Instead, it looks more like desperation and lust. He pulls back his hips, right before he slams into you. The action makes you clutch on the muscles of his back as you moan helplessly. He grins, gripping your thighs as repeats the action. With each thrust your body jolts in rhythm and each cry is louder, more explicit than the last. His body keeps pace and you’re nothing but a mess of moans beneath him. He’s hitting a new angle each time. At least that’s what it feels like. Every jerk of his hips rocks you deeper and deeper. It’s almost too much. Too good.

One particular thrust touches just the right spot. Your legs seize involuntarily and you cum with an uncontrolled scream of his name. Your body tightening around him makes him groan, and he keeps moving until his body follows your release. You can feel his seed shooting up into you and another soft moan escapes you.

It takes a moment for you both to gather your breath, and your wits. Mayuri pulls out after a minute or two, laying down right at your side. His juices seem to be leaking out of you, and the thought has your body tingling. You grip at the sheets, a bashful expression covering your face.

When you feel an arm wrap around your waist, your eyes shoot open. Mayuri pulls you to his chest. You can’t help but peak up at him, just to take in his expression. His eyes seem a bit distant.

“K-Kurotsuhci-taicho..”

Your whisper makes his head turn.

“You are a minx.”

He states. Your blush darkens.

“Wearing such expressions, tempting me, you should be punished.”

You yelp when his hand moves down your body. You press your face into his chest. He expects you to shy away, but you grip at his shoulder.

“Please..punish me Mayuri..”

He grins.

“I intend to.”