#out of my control and will simmer down the next few days

[daughter-lilith]

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 4 | Read Part 3 here

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+

CW (For whole story): Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 6k

*Reminder, this is part 4. ⋆ a few tags for some. let me know if anyone would liked to be tagged for the next part. @stanfordscrush | @lanafofana | @catch-all | @thoughts-of-bear | @agathaharknessfan96 | @niki-is-a-reblog | @avabjorna36 | @acrobatalien42 | @princesspeachtacular | (some tags don't work but the thought is there!)

A simmering heat bubbled in your core, hot and powerful. The electric sparks fueled you, firing throughout your body, charging you with an incredible force that waited to be unleashed. You were magic incarnate. The Weave merged and flowed within you. You remember now, the phenomenal power that has been a part of you since childhood.

The echoes of shouting and weapons clashing finally pulled your attention away from yourself. Scanning the area, you gasped as blue and purple nebulae surrounded you, an endless space of brilliant cosmic collections. Floating rocks of various sizes were scattered all around, with the largest rocks nestled in between or on the ancient bones of fallen gods; and the areas with the flattest surfaces were crowded with battle. The Astral Plane.

But what were you doing there? You looked across one way, noticing a large portal where githyanki soldiers occasionally streamed out of, weapons drawn. Above you, red dragons soared ferociously, each flap of their wings like a hurricane. Some had long black streaks painted along their sides, and the others, seemingly on the opposing side, went without a mark. The dragons roared and clawed, battling each other across the Planes.

You noticed a familiar rider on the back of a red dragon with a long black streak, Lae’zel. You remembered what she once told you before battle, that those markings represented the dragons on your side. Even from a great distance, you could see the ferocity in her pose, and the rage in her eyes as she effortlessly directed her dragon in battle. She was always a force to be reckoned with, on the ground or in the air. But if Lae’zel and the red dragons were here, then this was the—

“You will see no ascension!” a mighty voice roared, piercing across the Plane. It sounded ancient and powerful, dripping with hatred. Vlaakith. The glowing, yellow eyes of the Lich Queen glared at Lae’zel, who was flying side to side, dodging various attacks of lightning and thunder.

Your heart heaved, stomach tightening as full awareness was flooding back into you. It was the battle where you, Halsin, and your friends agreed to help Lae’zel with. All but Jaheira had joined you, as she settled into the life of being a grandmother, finally putting up her daggers. But she sent a large band of Harpers in her place, her daughter among them.

You had years of peace after the defeat of the Absolute, but the tyrant queen still lived. It was the one thing that Lae’zel could never truly move past, especially since she was forced to occasionally defend herself over the years, being hunted down by those who still blindly followed Vlaakith. Lae’zel never gave up on her rebellion, itching to help her people once and for all, but she needed the aid of her closest friends. Vlaakith was a threat to the githyanki, and if her reign continued, it wouldn’t be long before all non-gith fell under her control.

A familiar voice reached your ears, frantically calling your name. “My heart! Rise!” You promptly turned towards the call to find Halsin, his bright eyes concerned with how you lingered on the ground, seemingly out of it. He started to move towards you but was cut off by three gith monks who jumped in front of his path.

A flash of golden light raced over his tall body, and the roar of a great bear emerged, large claws swiping at one of the monks. A blaring war cry filled your ears, and you noticed Karlach, who was dripping with fire as she charged towards Halsin’s aid, axe raised high.

Heart pounding, adrenaline surged through your veins as you finally began to rise, suddenly feeling the weight of something heavy at your back. There was a sound of something scraping against the stone as you stood, and you remembered the longsword strapped at your back, eager to be used once more.

“Ooh, glad to see you remembered how to use your legs!” someone near you said, the sarcastic speech you could recognize anywhere. You turned to see silver-white hair and blaring red eyes, stimulated by the heat of battle. Astarion, daggers raised, whirled around four of his attackers with immaculate finesse. “Now, darling, a little help would be lovely!”

You grinned, feeling the crackling energy in your fingertips growing stronger. You ordered him to dash far off to the side as you raised your hands high. Feeling the electricity surging down your arms, you eyed four of your targets who were prowling toward Astarion. Before they could get within dangerous range of him, you threw your arms forward as a rush of invigorating power escaped you with great force. “Perurē!” Streaks of crackling blue lightning sprouted from your fingers, instantly shocking all four giths on contact. All four immediately succumbed, weakened from earlier assaults.

Astarion sighed, dusting off his pants then bowed dramatically in your direction. “Well that’s more like it.”

You smiled, scanning the area to better assimilate to what else was going on and how everyone was doing. You remembered this moment, feeling it like the way you would déjà vu, except it wasn’t some quick fleeting memory. You were simply there. The battle in the Astral Plane was happening all over again.

You felt something behind you, a presence leaping towards you fast. Quickly, you withdrew your longsword, noting the orange flames that danced along the blade. Spinning, you swung the blade in time to lacerate clean through a large gnoll, its eyes glowing deep pink. Charmed, you realized. But now, its gaze darkened, lifeless, as it slumped to the ground, its severed body partially sizzling from the sword’s flames.

Satisfied, your eyes continued to sweep the area, taking in how the rest of your friends were faring. All around you, hordes of allies and enemies clashed. Lae’zel still soared above you, occasionally taking on Vlaakith herself with a few githyanki at her side, but she was consistently forced to evade more than she could attack. For now, though, she held strong while the rest of your allies held on the ground—or the suspended rocks at least.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you searched for your druid, wanting to fight at his side. Karlach was still raging, a hellish force to be reckoned with. And instead of finding the enormous bear beside her, you saw a massive, feline beast biting down on the neck of an enemy gith, two extremely long incisors pulling away from a bloody throat. You could easily recognize the gold in its eyes as your lover, who had apparently shed his bear form for a swifter, fiercer, saber-tooth tiger. Halsin dashed across the rocks, leaping with pristine grace, his jugular strikes always true.

A swell of love and pride spread across your chest as you watched him, roaring and merciless. It had been a very long time since the two of you fought like this, having only faced minor dangers since defeating the netherbrain. The usually stoic, calm elf, who had grown accustomed to long, peaceful days, had not lost his vigor. Blood pumped faster through your veins at the sight, and a pleasurable spark flickered in your lower abdomen. Should you survive this and the two of you reclaimed your solitude, you’d leap for him, wrapping your legs around his waist and lose yourself enveloped in his massive arms, not caring to wash away the blood of battle first.

Halsin seemed to sense your eyes on him because mid-run, he stopped, turning his head in your direction. His chest was moving rapidly as crimson stained his once white, dagger-like canines. He stared at you intensely, golden eyes piercing into yours from across the plane. His long tongue swiped slowly over one of his blood-soaked canines and you gasped at the sight, certain he was detecting your thoughts.

“Halsin,” you murmured, breathless. As though he could hear you or read your lips, he let out a soft guttural purr, starting to march towards you.

But a sudden bright light pulled you out of your arousing trance, and you turned towards the source as another spherical portal emerged some distance away. Dozens of gith started pouring in, and given the color of their armor, they were no friends of yours. They were running in the direction of Gale and allied gith fighters who seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“Gale!” you shouted, repressing all former desires and refocusing on the battle at hand. The wizard immediately looked at you, eyes determined. “Behind you, cut them off, now!”

Gale swiveled around at the charging gith soldiers who were running up the inner rock that was more of a wide tunnel with a ceiling. Bright flames illuminated Gale’s arms, and in a quick sweeping motion towards the giths’ direction, he threw his arms up. “Ira!” he bellowed. Instantly, a column of flames sprouted from the ground, spiking towards the ceiling, immediately torching the few unlucky gith who were caught in the middle of the spell’s path.

The fires effectively cut the rest off, leaving Gale to deal with the other side. Sensing he would soon be overwhelmed, you sprang off the rock, soaring high in the low gravity, and landed with a divine smite to the first enemy who was unfortunate to be in your way. You easily fell into a natural dance, shifting between slicing and cutting to throwing fire bolts and thunderwaving enemies away from you whenever you began getting overwhelmed.

“Ira et Dolor!” You heard the incantation through the chaos, catching a luminous green light off to your left. Shadowheart, mace swinging, ran through the field as a floating circle of green, necrotic guardians flew around her as she weakened and injured all foes who breached her circle.

With her at your side, it helped lessen the number of foes, and you did your best to help her from getting knocked out of her concentration. You then turned your attention to the sound of a familiar, joyous laugh. Wyll, rapier held high, wielded the weapon with clean precision, fluid like Astarion, but unique to him.

The former Blade of Avernus, now Duke of Baldur’s Gate, still fought like he hadn’t missed a day over the past twenty years. His hair was longer, twisted halfway down his back, swaying with him as he dodged and weaved. But despite his unwavering skill, he was sidetracked by a thundering blast from his side, throwing him on his back. Wyll shook his head, clearly dazed.

An enemy warrior approached Wyll from behind, and your heart skipped as you called on your energy, aiming to teleport in the form of mist. But before you could, another shout from Shadowheart. “Ex Textura!” A large, spiritual greatsword rose from the rock, behind the impending warrior who stalked towards Wyll. With a great, sweeping arc, its radiant power struck hard at the gith warrior, forcing them to their knees.

You looked back at Shadowheart, sweat spilling down her forehead, who simply grinned at you before turning her attention elsewhere. Back to Wyll, you proceeded to teleport near his side. With flaming hands, you thrust hard against the fallen warrior’s chest. Wyll, back on his feet, took hold of his rapier and slashed it cleanly across the gith’s throat.

“Appreciate the assist,” Wyll breathed heavily, his smile never waning. Spots of blood dotted his face and long coat, and he gave his rapier a brief shake. His beard was fuller now, with a few sporadic strands of silver peeking between his dark hair.

“Of course.” You bowed, playfully. “But we had a little help.” You nodded towards Shadowheart, still surrounded by the ring of guardians. You lived for moments like these during battle, where you found a chance to quickly banter with one another before falling back into the dance.

And dance you did.

Bellowed spells, arrows flying, and swords clashing echoed in the great Astral Plane. The would-be god was not falling easily for she was as impressive as Lae’zel warned you all she would be. Lae’zel was once a devout follower after all, and knew only of the strength and power the tyrant queen possessed. But Vlaakith would fall today, she had to.

Exhaustion began to mount within you, your muscles burning with the consistent grip you had on your sword. The heat from the red dragons occasionally clouded you, their fires nothing to be trifled with.

Finally finding Halsin again, this time he had fully dismissed his wild shape, the tall elf swinging his shadow blade in a long arc. Halsin’s hands glowed with a bright light, and he threw his hands forward then did a slamming motion. A beam of pure moonlight struck down from an unknown place, seemingly ignoring the fact that they were not beneath the moon or stars but rather floating in an otherworldly place among them. It seemed Selune’s light could still reach this plane.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, though he was too focused to notice. Your legs carried you on, tired but moving. The world spun around you as you fought, sometimes finding yourself at Halsin’s side before being separated once more. You’d briefly lock eyes, making sure the other was okay before pursuing the dance.

You were breathing heavily, giving it all you had, everyone was. Your energy was beginning to wane, only allowing you to cast the most basic spells. You tapped into your core, feeling the warmth within you, the ancient magic passed down through your ancestors, it would not fail you.

“You alright there, soldier?” Karlach appeared on your left flank that was left wide open.

Before you could answer, another presence on your other side joined you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed large, bulging muscles, thinking it was your druid. But a different accent left their lips.

“Ahh, you wouldn’t let this party go to waste, no?” Minsc moved closer, bumping your side lightly with his arm. “Move your legs, my friend! The battle rages! The false god meets her end today! Isn’t that right, Boo?” A series of light squeaks followed his inquiry.

You chuckled, taking a deep breath, a new resolve rising within you. With your towering friends at your side, you shouted battle cries and charged back into the fray. In time, finally, the battle was turning in your favor by drastic numbers. You had brought the would-be god to her knees as you, Gale, and Shadowheart stood the closest to her but still a decent distance away. On the other rocks, the rest of your friends and allies were clearing out the other gith, the ones who refused to flee. The rest of you watched Lae’zel land with her dragon, an earth-shattering thud. You all observed her eagerly, waiting for her to end this.

Lae’zel’s dragon, whose saliva dripped with red fire, stalked towards Vlaakith who lay wounded and considerably damaged. “We will be your thralls no longer!” Lae’zel snarled, her eyes frenzied with rage.

She shouted a command at her dragon who made a thrusting motion with its back. With the rapid momentum, Lae’zel leaped off its back. Silver sword in hand, she vaulted through the air with feline grace, a streak of ferocious fury, and brought down the glimmering blade directly through Vlaakith’s chest. A piercing cry left the Lich Queen’s throat as dark blood, almost black, splattered from her lips, proof that she was still just a mortal in the end. A string of cursed words left the fading tyrant’s mouth which only encouraged Lae’zel to twist the blade. Another moment, and Lae’zel withdrew, stepping away from the fallen queen who collapsed forward with a hard fall.

Lae’zel stumbled back, breathing heavily, her yellow eyes wide with shock that this was all over. It was finally over. She turned around on semi-shaking legs, catching your eyes first. The grip on her sword started to waver as realization swam over her. You nodded your head, half-smiling as your chest rose and fell rapidly.

Then, a shadow of movement behind your gith friend caught your eye. The long, skeletal arm of the fallen queen lifted, and a silver blade materialized in her hand. Eyes widening, you acted without thinking, using the last bit of your energy to misty step at Lae’zel’s side, shoving her out of the way. In the same second, a sharp, stabbing pain blasted through your core, your entire body seizing under the shock. A choked gasp left your throat as the desperate sound of your name cut across the plane.

Instinctively, you looked in the direction of Halsin, who was sprinting towards you with a desperate, terrified look in his eyes before he shifted midway towards you in his considerably faster saber-tooth shape.

A string of curses dripped from Lae’zel’s throat, venomous. “Aghh! Vlaakith hta'zith! Die!”

You were faintly aware of a violent slashing sound, then a crowned head tumbling away from shoulders. Your legs felt numb, knees weak. And just as you were collapsing, a bright flash momentarily blinded your vision.

The light subsided. You blinked rapidly, looking around to still find yourself standing in the Astral Plane, but something was different. You felt different—lighter, no longer reeling from the scathing pain, in fact, there was no pain at all. You heard a sound, something of a strained cough, and glanced down to find yourself on the ground, your other self. Ejected from your body, you stood in shock, watching the other you from the outside, like a spirit watching itself.

You looked down at yourself, cradled in the strong arms of your lover, a blue light flowing from his hands. Halsin was on his knees, begging you to hold on, pouring all of his magic into you. Your friends ran to you both, frantic, everyone who could heal desperately trying to transfer what magic they had left into your declining body. Still standing, you tried to speak, but in this disconnected form, you were deemed silent, an invisible witness.

Your physical form looked up at Halsin, and you felt your heart breaking despite no longer being attached to it. “Stay with me, my heart,” Halsin pleaded, voice thick and tight with fear. “Please.”

You watched yourself weakly raising a hand to cup Halsin’s cheek as blood and sweat tinged his face. As you spoke, a line of blood trickled from your lips. “In every life,” you murmured, smiling sadly at your greatest love. “I’ll find you.”

Halsin covered your hand with his own, shaking his head, refusing to accept this. “Oak Father help me, please.” His voice trembled as he felt the life in your body waning. “A portal!” he shouted at no one in particular. “Open one, anyone!”

But the Astral Plane was too fast, already claiming you barely a minute later. You felt yourself slipping away as you watched your body fade into golden, sparkling dust, flying out into the vast spaces before vanishing entirely. Halsin fell over, no longer having you to hold and a pained wail escaped his throat.

It was then, in your ethereal form, that you took the chance to look around at the fallen. But there were no fallen. Every person, enemy or ally, had ceased to exist, only their weapons were left behind. Your breathing was coming in rapid waves, panic momentarily blurring your vision. You glanced back down at Halsin who was staring at his empty, blood-soaked, trembling hands. The very same hands that held you only mere moments ago.

“Halsin?” Shadowheart cautiously spoke, her face crestfallen.

Halsin suddenly threw his head back, arms flexed, and the loudest, fiercest cry bellowed from the depths of his broad chest. It cut through the Planes, a beacon of the deepest agony and ire, powerful enough to put Karlach’s rageful, barbaric roar to shame. Your heart shattered at the most sorrowful sound you’d ever heard, and you ached to reach for him, to touch him.

“My Halsin,” you cried, dropping to your knees beside him as he fell forward again. “I’m here. I’m right here.” You moved to throw your arms around his neck but your ghostly form passed right through him. You glanced at your hands, defeated, watching a misty blue aura outlining your arms.

“Oh, Halsin.” Karlach dropped to her knees, throwing herself around the weeping elf. Blue flames flickered over her skin as she sobbed profusely, resting her head on Halsin’s shoulder.

Wyll followed suit, coming on Halsin’s other side and stretching his arms around him as wide as they could go. Shadowheart snuck beside Wyll, crying quietly as she leaned her weight over the two, resting her hand on Halsin’s back. Gale stood nearby, eyes glazed over in shock, his staff carelessly dropped near his feet. Astarion, who usually detested expressing any sort of vulnerable emotion was redder in the eyes than normal, tears staining his cheeks as he paced back and forth, fangs bared, erratically waving his hands.

Minsc held Boo close to his chest, kneeling near Halsin with their heads bowed. And Lae’zel was muttering a string of curses, frantic, angry, shouting your name over and over again. You watched her glistening eyes, spewing threat after threat at the fallen Vlaakith, cursing her to a terrifying and tortuous afterlife.

But as Halsin continued to weep, his fists balled tightly, Lae’zel’s ranting finally seized and she collapsed directly in front of the defeated druid. Blood smeared her arms and chest as she tentatively reached for Halsin, placing a trembling hand over his knee.

Lowering her head, she choked back tears, fighting the threatening dam. “It should have been me… Vlaakith—” she choked, pausing for a moment. “That was my death. Mine.”

You shook your head at her even though she could not see. You would do it again for her, for anyone in front of you. And there wasn’t a single doubt that they wouldn’t have done the same in return.

Without lifting his head, the druid responded. “Do not say that.” Halsin sounded distant, sniffling as he spoke.

Lae’zel said nothing after this, only allowing herself to cry freely, bowing before Halsin. Everyone remained quiet, save for the sounds of constant sniffing and the heavy, unstable breaths Halsin made. Gale and Astarion now huddled as close as they were able to get to the large elf. Your heart both broke and swelled at the sight. You hated that you had to leave them behind, to leave your beautiful, amazing, love of your life behind. But you also smiled sadly, feeling a sense of peace knowing that at least he wasn’t alone. He still had his family.

With one final attempt to touch Halsin, a sudden torrent of wind opened up from behind you. And in an instant, taking one last glance at your family, you were sucked into another strange portal. This one was void of visions and considerably faster than before. Blue lights rushed past you, quickly dimming and fading into darkness.

Then one violent, gasping breath later, cool air rushed back into your body like you had just reached the limit your lungs could no longer take. You fell forward slightly, blinking rapidly as your vision cleared. Gone was the rocky surface and starry surroundings of the Astral Plane, replaced by cool, ceramic flooring. You noticed a familiar cloak covering your arms - no- not a cloak, but a robe. You were kneeling on your kitchen floor, suddenly aware that you were being partially held up. Your stomach flipped, a fierce and untamed nervous excitement. If you were back in your kitchen, in your body, then that meant— “My heart, are you alright? What happened?” a familiar, deep voice graced your ears.

You leaned back, lifting your gaze to find Halsin searching yours, worried and panicked as he studied you. A blue light faded from his hands as he observed your appearance.

A shaky gasp left your lips as you took in the form of the druid, the softness in his eyes, the love that flourished deep within them. He looked almost the exact same as he did in your vision—memory— but gone was the blood and sweat, replaced by a more tired, stress-induced elf.

He said your name again, lifting one hand as if to cup your chin but stopped midway, cautious, as though still unsure of what contact was too much. So you made the choice for him, reaching for his face, taking him in. He seemed surprised for a moment but didn’t hesitate to lean into your touch, though a level of concern still lingered in his eyes.

“My Halsin,” you whispered fondly, holding his gaze, watching the ever-increasing surprise in his eyes. “You came for me.”

Halsin was breathing fast, and you could feel him starting to tremble. “You- you remember me?” he breathed, taken aback.

You nodded slowly. “Everything.” And as you said the word, all of your memories pulsed in your mind, like a reminder that you weren’t dreaming, it all happened. “I saw everything. My life in Faerûn…our life.”

A distant, ghost of a tickle entered your brain. It was like your life in Faerûn was just as much a part of you as your current life on Earth. Memories were shared equally. Your time as a high elf for over two hundred years mingled with your time as a human for a considerably lower number of years. All of your friends’ faces were clear as day, the many races of Faerûn, as well as your Earthly friends, just as much a part of your life. How strange, you thought. Your two lives merging rather than fighting for dominance. But you didn’t question it further, for now, choosing to focus on the elf before you. The one who never stopped caring for you. The one who crossed dimensions to find you.

Halsin, who was clearly at a loss for words, slumped forward, head hanging low. You saw him trembling and could feel the parts of relief and shock consuming him. Your heart beating rapidly, you smiled and slowly rose to your feet. Halsin stayed still, staring towards the floor, lightly clinging to one of your legs which loosened your robe some more.

With a featherlight touch, you reached down and slid your fingers beneath his chin, gently urging him to look at you. Lifting his head, his eyes glistened lightly as he looked up at you, a soft frown curving his lips.

“Oh…my sweet bear,” you whispered, stroking your thumb over his chin.

Your heart skipped one beat, then another at the sight below you. This massive, beautiful man completely and utterly shattered for you. You felt heavy with empathy at the genuine relief in his eyes that slowly pushed through years of anguish. Halsin was staring at you with pure reverence, devotion, love. He looked into you the way one would a goddess, thankful for your delicate care and attention, silently begging that you’d allow him to be consumed in it forever.

Halsin’s strong arms fell to his sides, suddenly feeling weak as he looked up at you, unable to believe this was happening. It was what he had hoped for. What he had dreamed, prayed, and longed for. He didn’t know exactly what to expect when showing up at your doorstep, but just a few minutes ago he had succumbed to the idea that he would have to leave. He would leave to make things easier for you because the truth overwhelmed you, frightened you. And more notably, you hadn’t remembered him. As much as that truth stung, your mental well-being meant more to him.

But kneeling before you now, he saw it in your eyes. The same eyes that he had lost himself in thousands of times before. You were right there. You remembered him. And as if reading his thoughts, you spoke again.

“I remember all, Halsin,” you reaffirmed, your sweet voice caressing his ears. “Now, come here to me.” You loved this view of Halsin kneeling before you, the assembly of emotions in his gorgeous eyes. But you were ready for more of him, you needed more.

You smirked down at him as a wave of urgent excitement swelled within you. Halsin chuckled, briefly, taking one last look before he rapidly rose to full height in one quick motion. You almost stumbled at the force of his large frame now towering over you again, but his arm was quick to curve around your waist, keeping you steady.

Your eyes darted between his and then at his parted lips. With silent confirmation, you both surged towards each other, closing the space between you as your lips met in a deep and tentative kiss. Together, your lips moved gradually over one another, each peck and pull rising with purpose. A groan rumbled from his throat, the familiar sound causing a rush of heat to your core. You kissed like you were reacquainting yourselves with one another, exploring the taste of the other’s lips.

For you, it felt like it had only been a few hours and simultaneously years since you last kissed Halsin. Another strange way your memories of your old life collided with this one. You could only imagine how Halsin felt, for it had literally been just over a decade for him. The mere thought made you want to lean into him more, to mold yourself into him, reassuring him that you were back, that you were there.

Halsin’s grip on you increased as he tugged you in closer until he felt the poking of your hardening nipples against him. A hot, electric charge spiked up his back as he kissed you feverishly, taking in the softness of your lips again. He groaned again, feeling you smile against his lips as you started to kiss him even harder. He returned the vigor, kissing you deeper, faster, encouraged by your exploring hands traveling up his rigid biceps and reaching around his neck before threading through his hair. A soft moan drained from your lips and Halsin felt himself twitch, abdomen tightening, nearly forgetting how incredible such a sound was from you. He longed to hear more of it, to be the one who encouraged it, loud and angelic from your supple mouth.

Halsin’s breath was hot against yours, his warm, woodsy scent consuming you. Chills spread all over your body, quickly soothed by the heat from his large physique. His large hands roamed over your thighs and up your back, leaving a tremor of shivers in their wake. The intensity of his kiss was growing ever more ravenous, burning with the heat of a thousand fires. Your needy hands found their way tugging at Halsin’s forearms, and following your signal, he quickly unstrapped and discarded his arm gloves without ever breaking the kiss.

Your nails ran down his fully exposed arms, gripping around hard muscles, feeling his skin prickle beneath your touch. Halsin groaned again, further stoking the fires within your pelvis. You slid your hands along his firm abdomen, sliding them upward towards his chest, wishing there was no fabric blocking you from his heated skin.

Your faces constantly tilted from one side to the other, consumed by each other’s mouths, wanting to taste one another as much as possible. Halsin’s tongue dragged along your bottom lip and your lips parted wider, eagerly inviting his tongue inside. You gasped as strong hands lifted you and the world quickly spun until your bottom was placed securely on the countertop. Halsin’s knee spread your legs wider as he settled in between, his lips still roughly on yours.

In this position, you easily felt a stiff bulge pressing against your stomach, causing your core to flush with heat. Your pulse quickened, suddenly remembering just how large Halsin was, thick and growing fuller by the moment. Desperately, you tugged him closer to you, pressing your still-covered breasts into his chest while one leg wrapped around his waist.

Unexpectedly, a light taste of salt touched your tongue as it continued to dance with Halsin’s. Soon after, a warm drop of fluid fell on your bottom lip, trailing down to your chin. A sudden break in the kiss had you both gasping for air, your lungs finally free to take in all the oxygen they needed.

Halsin’s forehead leaned against yours, your warm breaths mingling together. You opened your eyes and found him already staring at you, eyes shimmering under the dim light. A flicker of gold flashed in his irises before darkening again. Slight worry gripped you as you leaned back to see him better, but he kept his head bowed. Thin streaks of fresh tears trailed down Halsin’s cheeks as he proceeded to catch his breath.

Halsin smiled shyly, glancing away for a moment. “It would appear I am feeling…” he took a deep breath, shivering, “…a bit overwhelmed.”

Halsin’s heart was hammering in his chest, his blood so hot he could practically feel it simmering in his veins. His whole body felt like it was on fire in the most pleasurable way possible. To be standing there before you, the greatest love he’s ever known, who not only remembered him but still felt just as passionate as he was. Years of love and grief came crashing into him in full force, barreling into the years of loneliness he spent without you.

And then, to feel your touch again, to taste your lips, it was all so much and still not enough. His emotions needed to be free, to escape his body and help ease the unbearable flames. So he cried as he kissed you, feeling his cheeks burn as each tear was marked with the love he had for you. A love that never waned, that could never be replaced by another.

He watched you analyzing his face, imagining how sorrowful he must have looked. But you simply smiled at him, lifting both of your cool hands to his cheeks. “My Halsin,” he heard you whisper, and a tingle pulsed down his back. He had to remove his hands from your hips, placing them on the counter to steady himself. Oh how he loved it when you said his name that way, your Halsin. Another reassurance that you had truly returned to him, still claimed him.

Halsin stayed still, his arms resting at your sides while he let you take your time exploring his face. Your soft hands held his cheeks as you leaned upward, placing gentle kisses at the corners of his eyes. He shivered at your touch as his fresh tears were captured on your warm lips. The tenderness of your thumb stroked his cheek as you tilted your head to finally kiss his mouth again. Halsin leaned into you with ease, tasting his own tears, sighing against your lips. This time, however, the kiss was softer, slower, your deep breaths still coming down.

You pulled away from Halsin with a quiet smack of your lips, placing a hand over his pacing heart. It beat rapidly within his broad chest, strong and powerful. You could feel the passion he had for you, the equal level of anxiousness and enthusiasm to be with you again.

“My sweet Halsin,” you whispered, and Halsin focused on you, ready to hang onto your every word. “How about we take our time? We have the rest of the night, and the sun rises late in the winter.”

Halsin chuckled softly, nodding at your suggestion. He was torn between wanting to crash back into you again, to pull you into his body in another tight and greedy embrace. It had been so long since he last felt you, since he last had you, that he scarcely knew what to do with himself.

But perhaps you were right, perhaps it would be wiser to pace yourselves, though the desire relentlessly burned inside of him for more. His breathing began to level, and his eyes ceased new tears. He would take it slow with you… for as long as he was able to at least.

A/N: Whew, I honestly can't handle sad/emotional Halsin, I'm so sorry!

Next post is the final😔. But even longer than this part! Can't wait to share as soon as it's ready!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yandere-sins]

How'd you think Yandere luci and Yandere Mammon would deal with a S/O who's hiding the fact they're a virgin and is always trying to avoid intercourse by excuses like pretending to be asleep etc because they don't want to lose their virginity to them? (ALSO BTW, I LOVE YOUR WORK. like your work is super amazing and detailed <3 best yan writer)

Thank you for reading my writing!! I am so glad you enjoy it ^-^

And thank you for requesting! ♥

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Lucifer

♡ As if he doesn't know. You might be able to fool another human, and maybe someone as dense as Mammon, but you can't fool Lucifer. He had already noticed you shying away from his touch, the goosebumps and sudden tension that would go through you every time he touched you (rather innocently even). It's like you expected something to happen and are unsure how to react. Maybe you don't want it, perhaps you do, but your signals aren't very clear, and that makes him suspect you.

♡ He could blame it on some form of trauma that he doesn't know about, but he'd expect your reactions to be a bit more violent or fueled by rejection if that was the case. Instead, they are bashful and tense, with a taste of sweetness and innocence that Lucifer quite likes. And he caught Asmo giving you a knowing look once while you seemed even more hesitant to approach the 5th oldest brother; you made it much too easy for Lucifer to figure out what kind of game you were playing.

♡ So, he'll play along for a while since it's now in his control. You might not be a well-aged drop of lust yet, but delaying the inevitable is going to do you both well. Riling you up, getting you to let down your guard, and leaving you hot and bothered will benefit Lucifer greatly. Seeing your walls crumble will be enough to satisfy him for a while, so he won't have to put his hands on you prematurely. You may simmer on the knowledge that he'll take your virginity at some point, be sensitive, and get confused at times over his actions. Maybe even fantasize what it'll be like. Will he be rough? Gentle? Ease you into it or brutal steal your innocence like he did with your freedom? Letting your thoughts and desires run wild, no matter how much you want to deny them, will almost guarantee that once you are ready, you'll be at a point where you'll crawl to him, begging for release. And Lucifer likes that idea very much.

♡ Things he'll do to chip away at your defense include but aren't limited to spooning up against you at night, his cock perfectly pressed against your body but not grinding against you. Just letting you know it's there and ready for you and allowing you to get used to it but never letting you scoot away. The same is true with his hand placement at night, his palm at your lower abdomen, just resting there, and his fingertips slipping beneath your clothes to leave feathery trails of allurement. So close yet far enough away, teasing, playful, promising. The warmth it emits seeping into your body, heating you up, only for him to retract and leaving you hanging. Sometimes, his fingers will play with your clothes, letting you know just how agile they are. Your mind will do the rest as you can imagine the chaos and pleasure they can leave in their wake. He wears human pheromones suited to your taste, and he'll flirt with you, complimenting you even when you feel vulnerable, letting you know how receptive he is to taking the next step. It's only a matter of time until you cave, but Lucifer will do everything to make it the hardest few days of your life.

Mammon

♡ Mammon is indeed a little dense. He might feel a bit off-put if you reject his advances repeatedly, but he doesn't see anything wrong with it the first few times. There is absolutely no subtlety in his advances, his kisses bordering on orgasm-territory already when he's in the mood, his hands greedy as is fitting for his title. You might be forced into these affections, but even you can't help but squirm beneath him. It only gives him more incentive to take it up a notch when he's just so passionate, your lips constantly bruised, and your neck marked by his teeth.

♡ So it becomes very frustrating and confusing for him when you kick and scream the moment he gets a bit more intimate. He'd like to respect your choice despite him not giving you one when it comes to whether or not you'll be with him for the rest of your life. Mammon likes to think he's gracious like that. But he thought you two were on the right path to taking the next step, yet you keep rejecting him. To be fair, he's been very clear that he wants you for a long time: Grinding against you, fondling your body even though he should be concentrating on other things. You've caught him jerking off next to you, moaning your name quite a few times even though you pretended to be asleep. And if that isn't clear enough, he's been nagging and sometimes even begging on his knees for you to give him some of that sweet body of yours to fuck. You've rejected him all the same, so for Mammon, it hints at something being seriously wrong, but he can't quite figure it out himself.

♡ It takes some... advice from more experienced individuals for him to come to a conclusion. Levi thinks perhaps he smells bad, Satan questions why anyone would want to be with Mammon in the first place, and Beel asks if maybe you're too hungry for any of that stuff and if Mammon fed you properly. But hey, at least Asmo is useful, hinting at the possibility of you feeling... insecure. Maybe you're too "inexperienced" (Mammon vehemently denies the possibility of you being a virgin, cause duh, look at you! Stunning, gorgeous, and he will totally kill anyone who touched you before him, but clearly, with how seductive and sexy you are, he can't possibily your first). So Mammon deducts Asmo is right; you're just nervous because you'll be with a great guy like Mammon!

♡ Worry not; he decides to show you the ropes! ... Literally. You might stutter and reject his ideas of getting close and personal, but Asmodeus had a handy bag of goodies for Mammon before he left. Even though Mammon is at his limit, he tries to keep it together for you, tying you up and making you watch him jerk off, reciting all the things he wants to do to you, how he'll do it, and showing you how insane you are driving him. There won't be any more nights to hide away after that, as Mammon will demonstrate to you exactly how worthy you are to lay with him. But at least he'll ease you into it, that's something, right? You'll get the full 7 hells of orgasms from his mouth to fingers to toys. Forcing you to rely on him as he takes away your senses, like sight, and the freedom to move as you please. By the time he finally gets to wet his cock on you, you'll be already too well-fucked to care, and if that isn't devotion, what is?

[juuuulez]

📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess,” part two.

📖 -> part one.

info: Richie Jerimovich x reader, no use of (y/n), allusions to sex, kissing, smoking weed, alcohol consumption, overall generally pretty fluffy, Richie wants what’s best for you, king of self control bro is trying so hard.

omg this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week SORRY. but anyway i think this was sweet and is so richie’s growth and awareness era i think he’s trying so hard and is doing an amazing job.

let me know what you all think 😝😝

The floorboards are cold, where you’re sitting against Richie’s door, waiting for him to return from work. 10pm sharp? Yeah, right. Though, you’ve never known Richie to be a punctual man, so it doesn’t bother you that much. Anybody else, and you would have left. But maybe you’ve missed Richie more than you’ll let on.

The 6 pack of beers has already diminished, a half-drunk bottle nursed in your hand, the liquid warming with the air. Heavy footsteps are heard from the stairwell, promoting your head to tilt towards the corridor.

10:23pm, there he is.

Before he’s even approached you, he’s apologising, fumbling with a set of keys inside the pocket of a leather jacket. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, princess,” Richie is cursing. “Carmy was bein’ a massive bitch, and apparently there’s a gas leak ‘n—“

The rambling stops, Richie assumably coming to his senses as he eyes you, sitting on the floor, drink in hand.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” He relents, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

So you simmer on the thought, rolling it around like a pearl, sucking on the inside of your teeth. Finally, you come to stand, not reaching anywhere near Richie’s height.

“Mr. New York?”

A grin breaks out on Richie’s face at your clarification, tone questioning despite the fact that you’re sure, that you remember all of those little conversations. About a dozen people, only made real in your brain, courtesy of Richie’s overzealous descriptions of every little problem in his life.

Sure, he was just your dealer. Just a guy you hooked up with occasionally. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t listen, right?

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He grumbles in approval, a spare hand coming to rub the back of your neck. It’s an intoxicating movement, makes your body warm and fuzzy, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

Richie unlocks the door, the jangling of keys sounding through the hallway. Always the gentleman, he holds it open for you, a smug grin on his face.

“Already made a dent in the beer. Couldn’t wait,” You muse, fingers hooking into the cardboard handle of the 6-pack. “Y’know, this better be worth it.”

“You’ll be right.” Richie dismisses, his eyes following your form as you saunter into his apartment, already so familiar with the place.

He dumps a plastic bag down on the floor, the clutter making an indistinct noise you don’t care to expand on. The beers are placed on the table, and you’re quick to settle into his couch, shoes discarded and knees tucked to your chest.

“So…” Richie begins, coming to stand next to the couch. “Did you want some food?”

Your gaze flickers to him, soaking in how he seems to be a little nervous, a little hesitant. So different. “You know what I’m here for, Richard.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t call me that, it’s weird.” He outwardly cringes at your words, retreating further down the hallway to retrieve the subject of the night.

In your eyes, it was a little amusing. He’d changed, certainly, but you understood why. Maybe Richie’s party days were over, but you’re certainly weren’t.

Your hands find the TV remote, switching it on. It’s been left to Netflix, some kids cartoon looping in the background from when Eva was here, the colours bright and characters animated. Clicking your tongue, you call out to Richie. “Big fan?”

He comes down the hall a few seconds later, nodding towards the TV. “What, of Adventure Time? Fuck yeah. Shits awesome.”

It makes your face split into a grin, a notion he catches onto. Richie leans down, sitting next to you with a joint poised between large fingers, which you eagerly take. Fetching the lighter, you spark the flame, taking a deep inhale to burn the bud inside.

The lighter falls from your hands, Richie scooping it up to light his own cigarette.

“Blazing tonight?” You ask him, a curious lilt to your voice. It’s not often he doesn’t jump at the opportunity.

“Nah,” Richie waves his hand. “Not much, at least.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax back into the couch. “Party pooper.”

Regardless of the quip, Richie’s big hands find your legs, wrapping around your calves and pulling you further down the couch, so you’re lying on your back, and your legs spread across his lap. They rest there, warm over your jeans.

The joint doesn’t last long, you’re antsy to get it through your system. The next one is cradled a little slower, where Richie even takes a few drags, though you can tell he isn’t hungry for it like you are. Cartoons buzz in the background, a distant noise, and the beers quickly disappear leaving you in a giggly stupor.

You end up in a new position: Richie is lying on the couch, his firm chest against your own, with your chin propped up against him. There’s a grin on your face, chewing down on chapped lips, looking as pleased as a goddamn cat. His hands are planted on you, warm over your back, holding you firm and close. Your fingers fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, tugging and twisting it absentmindedly.

Then, his mouth is warm on yours. Hot tongue sliding against hot tongue. It’s unclear who initiated it, but that doesn’t matter, because he tastes like mint gum and nicotine. You probably taste like weed, but Richie doesn’t care, for it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of you. Like a familiar pattern, someone he can come back to when all else fails, someone who he doesn’t need to try for. You’ll always have him.

Your hands travel down the expanse of his torso, finding the band of his sweats. The fabric is soft and you savour the sensation for a moment, every piece of stimuli feeling that much better, like a prickly fog has overcome your mind and makes your body tingle. You press further, dipping your fingers under the band, which makes Richie grunt into your mouth.

“C’mon,” He mumbled against your lips. “Hands off, sweetheart.”

It takes so much effort to pull away, faces inches from each other. And fuck, your eyes are red, glassy and lidded as you stare at him with a mix of satisfaction and tired lust. It’s sleepy and quiet and feels perfect.

“What’s up?” You ask him.

But he just shakes his head, blue eyes still studying you. “Nothin’ s’up.”

You’re sceptical, of course, because when has Richie ever refused sex? Not with you, at least, and certainly not like this. The thought doesn’t simmer long in your mind, because the grin is soon returning, with a poorly suppressed giggle as you shift a little atop him, pressing your hips down against his own.

“I can feel you.” You tell him, utterly amused by the notion of his arousal beneath you. The sweats do little to contain it, and you can tell that Richie finds the situation enticing, his length hardening slowly under the heat of your clothed body.

The giggles don’t stop, seeming to have hit at the worst possible time, but you feel completely smitten. Your head ducks down against his shoulder, to which Richie pats over your hair, holding you close. He’s breathing steadily, one… two… three…, all in an effort to not flip you into the couch and fuck you right there.

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cus ya fuckin sexy,” He mumbles into your hair, which only provokes another round of snorted giggles from your form. “Trust me, I’d give the world to fuck you right now, princess. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a goddamn week.”

You look back up at him, still smiling and happy, albeit a little sleepy. Everything is blurred and fuzzy, and you can imagine how good the sex would feel right now. “Then do it.” You urge him, tongue darting out to wet your lips, despite the dry state of your mouth.

And it’s so goddamn hard to resist. Because right now, it’s all Richie wants to do. But there’s this stupid voice in his head, telling him no: that’s a terrible idea, he can’t do you like this anymore. He doesn’t want to be the person you come to for drugs or sex. That’s not healthy, and it won’t stop if he keeps indulging in it.

Even if he can feel your clothed breasts against his body, and his dick twitches with each of your words, cursing his mind for being such a massive cock-block.

“Hey, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He points out, brushing back your hair to get a better look at your face. It’s true, you’re drunk and high, drowsy eyes blinking up at him with a smug little grin.

You must know that, too, for you rest your head back down on his chest. If he won’t fuck you, at least you’ll probably have the best nap of your life like this. His heartbeat is audible from this position, and you press your nose closer into his shirt, inhaling a deep breath of musk and man and smoke. “You’re just lucky this is really good weed,” You mumble with a deep sigh, “But you owe me a lay.”

“I know princess,” Richie agrees, his voice low and so close to your ear, the only thing you’re truely aware of anymore. “Maybe.. maybe I’ll take you out, huh?”

The suggestion has his mouth going dry, and not from the weed. It’s slightly timid in the way his tone drops an octave, a tad quieter, simultaneously hoping you’re too stoned to remember but also lucid enough to answer honestly.

“What, like a fuckin’ date? Gross.” You shoot back, the words crude and playful. Your discontent is betrayed by the grin on your face, nose scrunched up in amusement, to which Richie pinches at your ass through those jeans.

“Not gross. I’d be a goddamn gentleman.” He pressed back, conscience lightened at how easily you take the suggestion. His hands soothe the curve of your back, following a trail up your spine, and back down.

It’s calming, and with your eyes closed, it feels like you’re near floating. The distance between you and Richie is nonexistent, like you’ve melted into him, a heaviness over your mind that feels like a weighted blanket.

“M’kay,” You manage to mumble with the last of your awareness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And he lets it go, for now. Because that’s a positive answer, and you’re practically falling asleep. Richie is glad you can’t see his smile, how happy that idea makes him, the mental image of taking you out like a regular couple. Maybe he’ll wear his nice dress shirt, a tie if you’re lucky, and take you to some restaurant. Bore you with his stupid stories and have a glass of wine, and then, take you home… give you the night you deserve, something calm and loving and (most importantly) sex you’d actually remember in the morning.

You fall asleep on his chest, dreaming of the same thing.

[rorylovesmatt]

all over her (part 2) - matthew sturniolo

part 1

summary: Y/N hasn’t left her house in what felt like ages but one night she decided that it was finally time to get her revenge

warnings: slight mention of drinking

word count: 878

a/n: can someone spam my inbox i’m feeling extra lonely today 💔😣😔 idk how i managed to write all this in under 6 hours.. *NOT PROOFREAD*

Y/N stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, feeling the weight of the past few days pressing down on her chest. The walls of her room, once a sanctuary of comfort, now felt like a prison. It had been a week since she last saw Matt, a week since the betrayal with Emma came to light. The pain was still fresh, gnawing at her insides like a harsh predator. She had locked herself in her room, avoiding friends, parties, and hasn’t eaten in what felt like weeks.

Every day felt like a dull blur, each hour blending into the next. She barely left her bed, barely slept, and barely lived. Her friends had tried to reach out, but she ignored their messages, preferring to wallow in her misery alone. She couldn’t shake the image of Matt and Emma together, the way he used to look at her now directed at her best friend. Someone she trusted with her life.

One evening, as the sun began to set and painted her room in a soft orange hue, Y/N decided she had enough. She was tired of feeling like a victim, tired of letting Matt and Emma’s betrayal control her life. It was time to reclaim her power, to remind herself and everyone else who she was. The idea of revenge had been simmering in the back of her mind for weeks, and tonight, she would finally act on it.

She rummaged through her closet, pulling out a dress she hadn’t worn in months. It was a beautiful deep red . She slipped it on, feeling a surge of confidence as the fabric hugged her curves. She put on her makeup, accentuating her best features. With a final glance in the mirror, she felt a spark of her old self returning.

Y/N grabbed her phone and texted her best friend, Madi, who had been begging her to come out for weeks. Madi’s response was immediate and enthusiastic, promising to pick her up in thirty minutes. Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. This was it. She was going to face the world again, and she was going to do it on her terms.

When Madi arrived, she engulfed Y/N in a tight hug, beaming with excitement. “You look amazing” Madi said, her eyes shining with joy. “Tonight’s going to be amazing”

They drove to the party, lucki blaring in the car helping to drown out Y/N’s lingering doubts. As they approached the house, the sound of laughter and music grew louder. Y/N felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbling within her. She was stepping back into the world, and she was ready to make a statement.

The party was at its peak when they arrived. Y/N felt a few curious glances in her direction as they entered, but she held her head high, refusing to let any whispers affect her. She spotted Matt and Emma almost immediately, their arms wrapped around each other. The sight made her stomach churn, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside. Tonight wasn’t about them. It was about her.

As the night went on, Y/N drank with friends, danced, and let herself enjoy the moment. She felt a sense of freedom, a weight lifting from her shoulders with every laugh and every step she took. Then she saw Chris.

Chris had always been in their circle, a friend of a friend, but they had never been particularly close. They’ve only had brief conversations whenever she would go see Matt. He was leaning against the wall, a drink in hand, watching the crowd with a laid-back demeanor. Their eyes met, and he gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. She walked over to him, fueled by a newfound sense of confidence.

“Hey Y/N” Chris greeted her, his smile widening. “Long time no see”

“Yeah, it’s been a while” Y/N replied, trying to keep her tone casual. “How’ve you been?”

They talked for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Chris was charming and attentive, making her laugh and feel at ease, but her mind wouldn’t stop pretending he was Matt. Y/N felt a connection growing between them, a spark that had been absent from her life for too long. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Matt watching them with a frown while Emma attempted to talk to him. The sight filled her with a sense of satisfaction.

Without giving herself time to overthink, Y/N leaned in and kissed Chris. It was a bold move, one that sent a clear message. She wasn’t going to be defined by her past. She was reclaiming her future. Chris responded eagerly, resting one hand on her waist and the other on her cheek, pulling her closer. The kiss was electric, igniting something inside her that she thought had been extinguished.

When they finally pulled away, Chris looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Wow” he said, his voice a little breathless. “What was that for?”

“Just felt like it” Y/N replied, her lips curving into a confident smile causing Chris to flash her his signature smirk.

As the night went on, Y/N felt a sense of victory. She had faced her fears, confronted her pain, and came back stronger. Matt and Emma’s betrayal had hurt her deeply, but it hadn’t broken her. She was ready to move forward, to embrace whatever the future held for both her and Chris.

And as she danced with him, the past finally felt like a distant memory.

tags: @bonni-98 @kriissy4gov

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 5 Prompt: Grinch vs Christmas Cheer

Tags: Modern AU, Eddie Munson & Jeff, Steve & Eddie Are Neighbors, Teacher Steve, Meet Cute

wc: 1863 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I thought you said you talked to them?” Eddie groans. He tips his head so far back he wobbles in the chair for a moment before he rights himself and buries his head in his hands. “I can’t work under these conditions!” 

“I don’t think planning a campaign counts as working,” Jeff teases. 

They’re in their apartment kitchen. Jeff cooking something that smells a hundred times better than the vending machine sandwich he had for lunch at the shop. Free from his day job, Eddie’s working on something he actually cares about now. The latest Dungeons & Dragons handbook is open to a random page while his trusty notebook sits open. There’s no use in hiding it from Jeff. It’s not like he could decipher Eddie’s chicken scratch penmanship anyway.

Besides, he hasn’t gotten much of anything done since he plopped down on the worn leather chair. It’s hard to work with the blaring sound of Mariah fucking Carey’s Christmas album playing on repeat for the third day straight coming from their neighbor's apartment. The obnoxious whirling of the fans keeping a dozen or so Christmas inflatables blown up on their shared stairwell and balcony also doesn’t help. 

If this continues any longer, Eddie swears he’s going to find them a new place to live. The peace and quiet would be worth losing out on their rent-controlled place. At least, Eddie thinks so. Christ, he misses the Richards who moved last year. He’d take their scowls and snide comments over this Christmas madness any day. 

“It absolutely counts as working,” Eddie scoffs, shooting a glare in Jeff’s direction. “And don’t change the subject, Jefferson. Did you even talk to Mr. and Mrs. Claus next door?”

Jeff snorts, shaking his head before returning to the pot of sauce he has simmering.  “No, I didn’t and I’m not going to.” 

“Jeff!” Eddie whines. “Your job as the approachable one of this house is to confront our neighbors when they’re annoying us.” 

“Okay, but they’re not annoying me.” 

“Well, that’s a lie. You hate Michael Buble as much as I do and I know you heard his stupid crooning voice at seven this morning like I did.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Jeff sighs, turning away from the stove to face Eddie. “But I can’t tell them to lower their music! Not when they haven’t complained once about the shit you blare at all hours of the night or our Corroded practices when we have nowhere else to go.” 

If Eddie was less stubborn, maybe he’d see that Jeff has a point. But he is stubborn, so he doubles down instead. 

“That’s different.” 

“It’s really not.” 

“Fine,” Eddie shouts, throwing his hands up in defeat. The headache festering behind is eyes is too painful for him to keep arguing with Jeff. Besides, he’s never been able to push Jeff around. It’s why they make such good roommates. “Can you at least talk to them about their decorating habits then? I had to wade through a fucking forest of inflatables this afternoon. M’pretty sure Frosty the fucking Snowman almost punched my balls.” 

“Eds, need I remind you that a few days ago you had the entire place decked out for Halloween? How is a few inflatables different than all those skeletons and demon shit you had up?” 

“First of all, how dare you compare my artistry to whatever is going on outside,” Eddie scoffs. He’s going to give himself a sore throat if he keeps this up. “I have taste. My decorations told a story! Those inflatables aren’t even from the same properties. They’ve got Santa Mickey next to the fucking Grinch! Charlie Brown mingling with Yoda! There’s no plot!” 

Jeff’s shoulders slump, forearms coming to rest on the kitchen counter so he’s at eye level with Eddie. “Just look on the bright side. At least they haven’t done one of those obnoxious light shows like that stupid reality show.”

As if Jeff accidentally summoned a demon in the form of Christmas cheer, a burst of red and green floods their apartment. Their once dimly lit kitchen looks like the inside of a club, red and green lights flickering with the occasional white and blue mixed in. The flickers are timed with the beat of another Mariah Carey Christmas song. 

This is what hell must look like, Eddie thinks, as he glares at Jeff. 

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Jeff defends, hands up in surrender. 

Eddie can seem him struggling not to laugh and it takes all the energy he can muster not to reach around the counter and playfully punch his shoulder. How can Jeff think this is funny? The flickering lights completely goes against their moody aesthetic! Not to mention it’s a health hazard! There’s no way Gareth is going to be able to come over here — not with the way he’s so sensitive to strobes. 

Jesus H. Christ and it’s only November 25th! He has to put up with this for weeks! 

“It’s not funny, Jefferson!” 

“I mean,” Jeff snorts, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from growing. “It’s a little funny.” 

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

The lights have not fucking stopped. Not for one single day. Eddie had hoped his neighbors would have grown tired of the constant strobing and Christmas music by now. But nope. A week and a half and its still going strong. 

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind. 

“Jeff,” Eddie hisses, lifting the blanket of his makeshift fort enough that he can make eye contact with Jeff. Or at least, try to. Jeff’s perched in their recliner with the biggest pair of sunglasses Eddie’s ever seen. “Please. I can’t take much more of this!” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“I might have believed you if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous things,” Eddie snorts. He waits for Jeff to retort but when he doesn’t, he groans and slowly emerges from the safety of his blanket fort. Christ he forgot how bright those damn things are. 

Stalking over to their small entryway, Eddie hastily tugs on a pair of boots and reaches for the doorknob. 

“What are you doing?” Jeff asks, voice laden with concern. 

“Someone has to confront the neighbors!” 

He doesn't give him time to respond, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him in one fluid movement. It should be a short trip to the neighbor's front door, just a few long strides, but Eddie forgets to account for the fuckton of inflatables cluttering the path. He ducks around Frosty, flipping him off when his stupid wood arms nearly deck his balls, again and forcibly shoves Mickey’s face away from him. 

It takes another bit of carefully navigating before he finally reaches the front door adorned with a festive wreath. These people really left no spot undecorated. Eddie doesn’t spare them the decency of a nice, neighborly knock or ring of the doorbell. They’re way past that. Instead, he makes a fist and slams his knuckles into the wood door, and keeps going. Knock. Knock. Knockknockknock. 

They probably can’t hear him over the damn music, Eddie thinks, as his knuckle turns redder and redder. Just when he’s about to retreat and face Jeff’s smug wrath, the door opens. 

The first thought that passes through Eddie’s mind is oh, he’s hot. The second, more vital thought, comes a moment later. He’s going to kill Jeff. How dare he not disclose how attractive this guy is the minute he met him months ago? 

The guy, who Eddie vaguely thinks is named Steve, looks just as surprised to see him as he is. Decked out in an obnoxious Santa-themed apron and green plaid flannel pants, his cheeks are spotted with flour and his hands are stained a faint red color. Judging from the delicious aroma of vanilla and peanut butter wafting into the hallway, Eddie interrupted some very serious baking. 

“Oh, you’re not the Instacart shopper,” maybe Steve frowns. “Can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh,” Eddie trails off. He’s here for a reason, he knows this, but his mind is blank. Distracted by the smells and the lights and the gorgeous fucking man standing in front of him with hazel eyes so sparkly Eddie’s pretty sure he belongs in a cartoon. “I’m Eddie, your neighbor.” 

I’m Eddie, your neighbor? 

This cannot be the same brain that creates intricate, plot twist-ridden campaigns that last months. Absolutely not.

“Ah, so you’re Jeff’s roommate! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.” 

“Right, Steve” Eddie nods. He’s not sure why he nods, it’s not a normal thing to do when you meet someone, and yet, he can’t stop nodding. Stop fucking nodding! 

“So, uh, what brings you by?” Steve asks, casually leaning against the doorframe. 

“Oh, I uh…” The lights. You were coming here to complain about the lights! “I came to tell you, uh… I could smell you baking!” Oh my fucking god. “You know these walls are thin and we, uh, share AC vents or something I think? So the smell was filling our place and it smelled so good I just, uh, had to come over and see what you’re baking?” 

If Jeff was here, Eddie’s pretty sure he’d be two seconds away from collapsing in a fit of laughter. Thank god he’s not. As soon as he gets back to his room, he’s going to take a lukewarm shower and try to forget this entire interaction ever happened and then hide from Steve for the rest of his life. 

“Oh, I’m making peanut butter cookies.” Steve’s smile is almost as blinding as the twinkling lights and like a moth to a flame, Eddie can’t look away. “One of my students has been having a rough time and they’re their favorite.”

“Damn, maybe if I had a teacher who baked me cookies I would have done better in school.” 

Steve laughs, “Tell me about it. Actually, uh, do you want to help? I’m allergic to peanut butter and my best friend is tied up at work. I could really use a taste tester. Make sure they’re edible.” 

“Oh, uh…” Eddie glances over his shoulder and takes in the sight of the sea of inflatables staring at him with their beady painted on eyes, squints at the obnoxious flashing lights keeping time to a terrible cover of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Together it’s the reminder he needs as to why he trekked over here in the first place, but when he turns he’s hit with a punch of peanut butter and well… “Not to toot my own horn, but I am a pretty good taste tester.” 

“Perfect,” Steve smiles, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Kitchen’s this way.” 

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

Eddie returns an hour later. Belly full of joy just peanut butter cookies, but also chocolate chip, and gingerbread, and some cinnamon concoction that had him considering a marriage proposal on the spot and a tupperware overflowing with said cookies. 

Jeff is still in the living room, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he’s judging him. 

“Don’t say a word,” Eddie sneers, heading straight for the kitchen. 

[chimivx]

public occurrences. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader

summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.

words: 6k

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.

a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.

~ the end of february 2023 ~

A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.

Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.

Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.

Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.

The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.

Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.

There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.

BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.

Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”

You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours. 

That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.

When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now. 

There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.

“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”

Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.

“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.

“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Has Branson ever let you down?”

“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on. 

Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”

Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.

Simple as pie. You hoped.

In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.

People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.

As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.

Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.

The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.

Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.

The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.

Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.

“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.

Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job. 

Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.

“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper. 

Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.

Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.

“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.

“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.

“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.

“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”

Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”

“I loved doing that,” you smiled. 

“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you��ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”

Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.

“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.

“Doubt that,” you said flatly.

“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.” 

Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.

“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”

A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.

“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”

Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.

“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”

A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.

“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty. 

“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.

“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.

Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.

“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.

You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.

“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.

Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.

“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair. 

“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.

Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.

“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.

Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.

 “We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words. 

Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp. 

Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.

“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.

“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.

“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”

Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.

“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.

Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear. 

You couldn’t let her see you panic.

Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.

Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.

With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm. 

It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.

Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear. 

“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.

Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.

You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.

Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.

From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.

God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!” 

“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade. 

“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”

“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.

“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible. 

“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence. 

The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.

Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”

Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.

Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you. 

Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.

Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.

“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds. 

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”

Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”

“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.

The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.

A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.

“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”

Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”

Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”

Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.

“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.

“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”

“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”

Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back. 

“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.

You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.

“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.

There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.

“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”

“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”

“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.

“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.

Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry. 

Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.

Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.

“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.

Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.

“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”

“Not us,” he said, tone flat.

Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.

“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.

“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.

There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign. 

Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.

Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.

“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”

“D, come on, it’s not like-”

“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”

“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.

It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”

“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.

“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses. 

It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.

No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.

You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece! 

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

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vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3

@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: ….i was supposed to be working or at least working on my fic exchange fic. but yeah. i took a slightly too long lunch and this happened instead. i have no explanation except for the fact that @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech post about nečas all the time and his big brown eyes have captivated me. this is just pure filth tbh and just barely edited so be nice 😅

word count: 2.7k

tw: fingering, oral (male receiving), brief handjob, unprotected sex, innuendo, dirty talk, mild voyeurism - let me know if i missed anything else

summary: you get bored while martin’s playing his video game so you decide to take matters into your own hands, so to speak

You’re bored and horny - a lethal combo. It’s Martin’s day off and it’s pouring outside, so neither of you had felt the need to go out and do things when you woke up and saw the weather. After lazy orgasms in bed, you’d gotten up to get a beef stew simmering in the Dutch oven, something warm and fitting for the weather.

Martin had gone down to the building’s gym for a workout and you’d cleaned out the drawers in your dresser, leaving two full bags of clothes to be donated. But now, Martin’s back in the apartment, showered and settled in his gaming chair with his headset on and a video game on the screen.

And you’re bored and horny.

Sure, you could clean out the closet or read a book or something, but you just want more of Martin. You miss him too much when he’s traveling and the team has a string of away games coming up. Quickly poking your head into the spare room where Martin’s gaming computer is set up, you confirm that he’s not streaming. He’s just playing with who you assume are the boys and when he scoffs into the headset, “ah, Svechy, you suck at this,” your suspicions are confirmed that it’s his teammates he’s playing with.

Happy that you can execute your plan, you undress, tossing your clothes in a pile on the floor for later, and stroll into the room. Martin doesn’t hear you enter, probably because of the chatter in his headphones, and when you step around him to stand next to the screen, he does a double take and his eyes widen before giving you a once over. His gaze lingers on your pebbled nipples and when his eyes land on your bare cunt, his lips turn up in a hungry smile. You cock your head at him, smirking and allowing your hand to slide down over your stomach, fingertips barely brushing between your legs. Martin’s grin grows downright dirty and he says, “go ahead, get in there,” startling you because surely he can’t be talking to you while he’s got the guys listening. But then, after just enough of a pause, he adds, “Fishy, come on. Get in the storeroom.” and you realize he’s going to make this fun for both of you.

He raises an eyebrow at you and flicks his gaze from your face down to where your fingers are lingering, giving you a meaningful look. You take the hint and shift your hand, thumb brushing your clit and burying two fingers into your already wet cunt. A satisfied little sigh leaves your lips and you grind on your hand for a few minutes, leaning your free hand on the desk for support as your knees turn to jelly. You curl your fingers to work up the pleasure building low in your stomach, arousal dripping and making your movements that much easier. You bite at your lower lip to stay quiet.

Martin keeps talking into the headset, but it’s like white noise to you since you don’t understand any of the lingo. He makes a gesture with his hands still wrapped around the controller and your fingers stutter, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you have no idea what he wants. He grins at you and opens his mouth, wiggling his tongue playfully at you.

Oh.

Your cheeks heat up and your fingers are drenched between your legs, but you pull them away - pouting at the emptiness - and hold them up to Martin’s mouth. He wraps his lips around your fingers and sucks them clean, tongue lapping at the pads of your fingertips. You shiver and he grins around your fingers, the devil. He hums, whether it’s a response to a question from the guys or a way to make you even wetter, you’re not sure and you don’t really care. He keeps your fingers in his mouth, lazily licking and sucking at him, while you drop to your knees in front of him and scrape the nails of your free hand over his bare knee. His cock is half hard under his shorts, the tented fabric a beacon for your gaze.

He glances down at you, opens his mouth to release your fingers, and says, “yeah, go ahead. You know what to do.” It’s directed at you and it’s not, his thumbs flying furiously over the buttons on the controller.

You sigh and lean your cheek against the inside of his knee, reaching for the waistband of his shorts. Martin barely moves and you wiggle the fabric down just enough to expose his cock and balls, saliva pooling on your tongue at the sight of him, huge even when he’s not even fully hard yet. You wrap your wet fingers around him and stroke slowly, gently, satisfied when he lets out a little grunt that he tries to disguise as a cough. You smirk to yourself, licking your other palm so you can get two hands on him, stroking him to full hardness. He’s throbbing in your grip, the soft velvet of his skin hot against yours.

Leaning up on your knees, you settle in between Martin’s thick thighs and he spreads them a little more so you have room, one hand leaving the controller briefly to rub the tips of his fingers against your scalp. You nearly purr at how good it feels. Martin’s cock twitches in your grip and you lean forward the rest of the way to place a soft kiss against the slit, darting your tongue out so the tip of it brushes the sensitive head. He grunts again, not even trying to disguise the noise, and bucks up slightly into your face. You tighten your hand around his base, a little warning, and suck the head of his cock into your mouth and hold it against your tongue. Martin groans and you wonder how he’ll explain the noises.

“Yeah, fuck,” he mutters. “I think we could’ve done that faster.”

You’re sure he’s talking to you, but you don’t change anything about your movements, letting saliva pool on your tongue and drool down his length so you can glide your hand over him easier. He feels impossibly thick in your mouth and you can’t wait for him to stretch you out. You never take more than a few inches of him into your mouth, even though you know he wants more, keeps flexing his hips up into your mouth. One of your hands is firm on his thigh, nails digging into his skin every time he tries to thrust his cock deeper down your throat. You keep up your fun until you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, pleasure coiling tight in your body. Martin rests his hands on the top of your head, the pressure keeping your mouth on his cock.

He laughs suddenly, his body shaking, and you gag a little on his cock when it pushes deeper. “Sorry, yeah, I told you the game is fun when you’re good at it,” he says and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard at the head of his cock, pre-cum filling your mouth.

Martin’s had enough fun, you decide, releasing the head of his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. He looks down at you, frowns. You grin wickedly back up at him, slipping your body under his arms and climbing up onto the gaming chair, knees on either sides of his thighs so you can straddle the thick muscle. You’re eye level with him now and he licks his lower lip, looking down at his lap. His cock bobs between your bodies, hard and red at the tip, leaking steadily. Martin’s hands rest at your lower back, just above the curve of your ass, the cool plastic of the controller making you shiver a bit.

“Mhm,” he hums into the microphone, “let’s do a targeted entry. On my count.” He looks at you, a teasing glint in his warm brown eyes. “One,” you reach between your bodies, grasping his cock. “Two,” you slide your palm over his shaft. “Three,” your thumb rubs over the slit on the tip and he groans.

You know he expected you to sit on him at the end of his countdown, but this is for your fun, not his. You can feel his hands moving at your lower back, can hear the faint action sounds from the headset. Your hand works him over slowly and you watch, sliding closer over his thighs so you can press his cock against your stomach, showing you both just how deep he reaches inside of you. He leans down and bites gently at your shoulder, flexing his thighs under you, feeling the rush of arousal drip over his skin. He leans forward to rest his chin on your shoulder so he can see the screen better and press his cock more solidly against your stomach. It throbs against you and you shift your hips so your cunt is pressed against the underside of his cock. You roll your hips a little, getting him slick, so you can lift up on your knees and using his shoulders as leverage, balance yourself just over his cock.

The broad head bumps up against your clit, making you gasp and whine while you line him up at your entrance. Martin kisses your shoulder and you sink down on him, just an inch or so, stretched wide. Your thighs tremble and you can’t keep your moans quiet even though you cover your mouth with your hand.

“Come on,” he says, voice raspy in your ear. “I think we can take it, it’s not too bad.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, with relation to the game, but you know he’s encouraging you to take more of him, so you sink down. Inch by inch. Until your ass is back on his thighs and he’s spearing you to the hilt. It’s hard to breathe, it feels like he’s stuffed you all the way to your lungs, your cunt stretched to the point of near pain, you legs spread wide and then wider when he opens his legs a little more. You hiccup a gasp, clenching around him.

Martin bites at your shoulder, muffling his own groan, before snapping, “go! Move, move, move.” His hands move at your back, working the controller, and you roll your hips, grinding down on him, bouncing over his cock. You’re soaked for him, the glide easy, keeping yourself as full of him as you can. Occasionally, he bucks his hips up into yours, drives his cock deeper, punches a moan from your lips.

You bury your face where his shoulder meets his neck, bouncing on him, the fabric of his shorts rubbing your ass raw, the slap of your skin against his balls surely audible through his headset. You’re dripping around him, so close, clenching around his length. One of your hands drops to your laps, finding your hard, swollen clit and working at the nerves with two fingers, sliding through the wetness. Pleasure and pressure build up in your stomach as you ride him, the throbbing of his cock matching your pounding heartbeat.

It just takes a few more seconds of his cock and your fingers until you’re gushing around him, your orgasm exploding in your body. You’re panting against his neck, your pace slowing down as your orgasm hits and your legs get tired. Martin thrusts up into you a few more times, keeping you bouncing on his lap even as he’s giving directions to the guys. Your hand is still between your legs when he comes, finishing inside of you with a muffled grunt and a hot flood. He keeps fucking up into you, pushing his cum both deeper and out of you.

You can feel his cum on your hand and you wipe it a little on his shirt, slumping against his chest. You’re exhausted now. Your eyes flutter shut, cheek pressed against his shoulder, cunt still throbbing.

“Fuck, nice,” Martin crows, startling you a little. “Good win, boys. Gonna log off and spend a little time with my girl.”

He pulls the headset away from his ear a little and you can hear a voice - maybe Svech, maybe Sebastian, you’re honestly not sure - say, “think you already spent some time with her, huh, Neci?” There’s some laughter and you blink, entire body flushing with heat.

“Ah, she’s a good girl,” he laughs a little. “Deserves my full attention.”

His hand is warm on your asscheek, patting gently. You bite at his shoulder and he pats you again, not as gently. The headset is back on his ear so you can’t hear their response, but you thought you had been quiet enough.

“Should’ve told me I was so loud,” you mutter when you feel him take the headset off completely. His arms tighten around your back.

“When did I get a chance, miláček?” He asks, nuzzling his nose against your temple. “I didn’t have a warning before you decided to use me as a sex toy.”

His hands knead at your ass, keeping you close. You can feel his cock start to throb inside of you, getting harder the more he touches you. Your hips move subconsciously over him, drawing a grunt against your temple.

“Was horny,” you mutter, gasping at the rough feeling of his fingers between your legs, pushing into your entrance along with his half-hard cock, filling you up.

“Did I not pay you enough attention this morning?” He asks, sounding genuinely concerned. He mouths at your neck, teeth scraping your skin, and you shiver in his arms.

“Just wanted more of you,” you pout even though he can’t see your face. “Miss you when you leave.”

Martin sucks a little mark behind your ear, “ah, moje sladká holčička, I miss you too.” He kisses down your neck again and your nipples pinch painfully. “How about I take you to bed and make sure you have something to think about when I’m gone?”

You can feel your body react to his words, wetness pooling between your legs again. You nod and Martin stands up, easily holding your weight and keeping his cock buried inside of you. Your legs lock instinctively around his waist, arms around his neck, and hold tight while he carries you back into the bedroom. He settles you onto the bed, kneeling in between your spread legs, hands wrapped around the backs of your knees.

“You know,” he says, lips curved in a teasing smile, “I had one of the best game scores while you were riding me, maybe we should make that a habit.”

You let out an embarrassed giggle and shake your head, “I definitely don’t need the guys hearing me again.”

Even as you say it though, the thought of the other guys listening sends a little thrill down your spine, your clit throbbing. Martin watches it twitch, carefully flicking his thumb over the bundle, making your back arch off the mattress.

“I think you liked that,” he rasps, “didn’t you? Liked the boys listening to your sweet little noises, knowing you were using me to get off.”

“Ngh- ah- no,” you manage to squeak out with Martin’s fingers continuing their assault on your clit.

He clicks his tongue. “No lying, miláček. Next time, you’re going to be even louder. Going to let the boys know how much pleasure you get from riding my cock.”

You grind against his hand, overwhelmed. “N-next time?”

Martin nods, free hand grasping the base of his cock, stroking himself until he’s hard. He bumps the head of his cock against your clit and you scream. “Good girl,” he murmurs, lining up at your entrance and pushing just the tip in. “Like that. You’re going to scream so they can hear you.”

You clench around the tip and he leans down to kiss you, driving his cock deeper, making you gasp into his mouth.

“But for now,” he says against your lips, “you played your little game, it’s my turn.”

[donascozylivingroom]

HOW TO SHIFT PARALLEL REALITIES.

This is if u struggle to understand the concept.

I'm an old lady of 30 yo and I found out about shifting parallel realities when I was 22 so I've had quite some time to simmer on it and even some success with its application.

We are definitely in the era of shifting parallel realities, finally, now.

People talk about it much more, so I decided to make a logical written explanation of it.

For those of you that struggle with affirmations and mental diet, meditation is definitely important. it's a way of knowing urself and ur mind better.

The ability to silence ur mind at will or focus it on a "mantra" comes with a lot of mindfulness - observing ur mind and what it does w/o judgement.

To be smart and get to the age of 30, you start accumulating a lot of knowledge and kinda have a mental toolkit for a lot of things. So me posting this sh@# is from tried and tested things, not just my musings of the day.

ok so parallel realities.

i learned this from Bentinho Massaro in 2015, i don't really follow the guy anymore or would suggest u do it necessarily, i just wanna give him credit.

So he explained basically that when u get to tomorrow, u will be in the present moment, even though in ur mind it was the future. And yesterday you were in the present moment, too, although u call it past. One second ago and one second after are still in their own present moment. so there is no time, there is only the One present moment.

So basically because the Universe is infinite, all possibilities already exist.

In this reality, you can make choices, u could go to the grocery store today or stay home and play video games. You have free will. You could basically start those things you know would help you achieve your dreams, or not. It is a choice. Every second of the day you have choices. You could speak now or not speak.

But all these choices are parallel realities that already exist.

i believe the universe still creates by combining things/realities that were not combined before based on us, and our free will choices, so being infinite and mathematical it keeps on creating through us, free will agents of consciousness/gods.

Anyways, he explained parallel realities like this: imagine u are watching a movie on ur laptop/device. You could stop it at 1:06, print the picture, and then stop it again at 1:07, print that image too, and send one pic to China and one to Austria. Same way you could print pictures hours apart and place the screenshots one after another.

That's kinda how parallel realities work, u could "print" ur desired reality and bring it to ur next nanosecond.

Just moving ur hand up and down, u are going through thousands, possibly tens of thousands of parallel realities.

What brings your desire closer is focus on it, so affirming and visualizing for example are tools.

But just know, ur desire is one nanosecond close!

I personally first shifted when i affirmed that whatever I visualize becomes my reality in 3 seconds. And it was incredible, I shifted from my mom's studio apartment to a beautiful penthouse in NYC! But I shifted back really fast because I got scared.

I shifted a few times more, but this one was the most incredible!

Anyways be careful with this if you can't control ur mind to not visualize scary things or affirm bad things, but yea you could counteract that with a really good self concept that whatever negativity u affirm or visualize doesn t manifest.

Basically you shift all the time, getting ur desire in time is still shifting, shifting is always the case, we are always shifting through parallel realities. But be careful out there peeps!

[kitmoas]

maimed underneath wreckage

TGU--Season 2 Installation 1

Warnings: **18+ ONLY** **MINORS DNI*** Mommy Kink, light talk of breeding, hostage talk, light degrading, talk of weapons and magic

as usual if I missed anything let me know!

Author's Notes: IT"S SEASON 2!!! Hi Hello, the beginning of season 2 is here! It's a day late and I'm sorry. Also no editing cause fuck that shit I'm sorry if there's mistakes. Hopefully its a good intro to the vibes of season 2 :) Lemme know your thoughts even if you wanna stay anon in my inbox

Training Grounds Master List | Navigation Post | Inbox

Flickering, a small flame breathing in air as it grows slowly. Despite the darkness and the isolation, it almost feels as though the world is solid. Firm and rooted in a good foundation, but it won’t take long for that to crumble. Falling, spiraling about as if gravity no longer exists. 

Nothing in this place had longevity, changing within a single breath, a flaw in its creation. The insatiable need for peace drove the inevitable hysteria, and that’s where the structure falters. Slowly everything will become normal once more, forcing a reality check in which will leisurely chip away at the sanity within. 

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

The sounds of conversations mixing is a nice change to the beeping of the lab and the clicking of keys in the office, a light wind blowing through your hair as you allow your eyes to laze around your surroundings. The heat lamp next to you allowed for you to sit atop the roof despite the snow along the grass under the balcony. Having spent the past few months keeping your head down after your first semester into your masters, it was nice to finally be back to something a little more normal. A moment between everyone that feels cozy, and you even feel comfortable with the arm that lays along the back of your chair. 

Empty plates are scattered and you know that your brother is confused, and a bit off put, but you try to ignore it. This isn’t where you thought you would be, but it’s okay. Life is a rollercoaster and you need to start understanding that, you cannot control everything nor can you put someone else in control of the levers. You need to move on, learn to take the hits like an adult and live. 

The talk was light the entire lunch, almost cordial which felt weird,and maybe you should have taken that as a sign that this was destined for doom but you shrugged it off. You were here for fun and not everything had to be serious, which made your skin crawl because you knew that wasn’t the same mindset of the girl next to you but it was the one you were stuck in. 

“So have you thought anymore about Peter’s offer?” It never happened on purpose, the dreaded swing back. An end to almost every interaction that you have with anyone at this point, never really detangling yourself from those that left your world rocky. 

You know your brother doesn’t mean it maliciously, but you can’t help but glare at him every single time he brings up the offer. A step into the same world as those that used to be your pillars, the ones that created your world as it once had been. 

Sighing, your eyes divert as you notice the hopeful look of both your lunch companions. “You know I haven’t Cars, you know that it isn’t the only offer I have and there’s no reason to even entertain it. I have school.” Despite the want for your voice to be strong, almost commanding, it wavers on each syllable. “I don’t need another distraction. I want to do well.” 

Before you even finish you can sense the change in his body language, jaw stiffening and eyes rolling. “Personally I think it’s time you stop running from what you’re actually good at.” 

Your mouth opens, just slightly, as your tongue dips out to wet your lips. “You know damn well that I won’t ever truly become part of that world, not full time.” The low simmering anger, the one that exists in you at all times, starts to heat up. You know where this is going, where it has gone for the past couple months. 

“Running from dad and who he was isn’t going to make you happy, we both know that.” The words were out of his mouth, put out into the world, but it was almost like you lost your ability to hear. It wasn’t healthy, your coping mechanism with your father, and you know that but at the end of the day you still weren’t ready to change. It almost felt too familiar, too cozy, and the thought of more change scared you. 

An answer for his statement never came, just your footsteps in the light layer of already melting snow as you walked back into the building. The loud chatter within the food court of your student union masking your emotions, as Cassie stumbled to thank your brother for having a meal with the both of you. Only the brief reflection of them parting indicated what happened at the scene you left behind as you conceal yourself within the wave of people all heading for the coffee bar. 

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

A small stack of papers go flying through the air, hand slamming down on the large oval table. “We can’t keep acting like expansion is impossible! The world needs different types of technology so let’s give it to them!” Kate leers over the table, glaring at the projection of their end of year statements. 

You could feel the tension in the room, everyone was just a bit too scared to fight their boss. “Ms. Bishop, what….what would you mother do in this moment?” Apparently not everyone was scared, a single older man raising his hand with a strict look on his face. 

The young girl blinks, straightening her back as she stares down the table. Her jaw sets and she uses the moment of quiet to smooth down her blazer lapels. Kate settles down in her chair, allowing the smooth soft leather to calm her down more before she speaks. “Maybe you should remember where my mother got this company, yes? At the brink of forced federal shutdown, and practically bankrupt when our combined assets were seized. She destroyed the reputation of this company, disruption within the entire field, because she wanted to be rich. When I took the seat, and responsibility, of this company I swore that I would bring it back to what it could be but you all want to stay what my mother created. If that is true then security can escort you out because I will not be working with criminals. Meeting is dismissed and you all are required to go home, do not return to this building until or unless your mindset changes. We are not villains in this company and I will not entertain the idea of such ideals either.” 

Slowly each person leaves, shock on their face after being practically punished by such a young girl. They had always thought that she would be a fun loving kid, the one that was barely a good secretary but they knew she was growing into a good firm CEO. 

Letting the door lock behind the last person to leave, Kate leans back with her feet on the wood table. Sighing she rubs her hand along her face, staring out at the skyline. Her mind drifts as she tries to settle her heart rate. Memories of her favorite times plague her mind.  

“You wouldn’t dare, Mutt!” Her words held no real venom, voice cracking with laughter as she tried her hardest to keep the nerf gun aimed properly. The ginger staring down Kate as she holds you in a chokehold, her own gun against your temple. 

The body behind you shifts, the arm loose around your neck. “Bring it on, old lady, I’ll pull the trigger. I ain’t no scared lil bitch!” Everyone in the room cracks up at your girlfriend’s random accent that she puts on. 

Neither of you noticed Wanda, hovering in the back, eyes gleaming ruby. Just a tilt of her head and the brunette’s nerf gun is hovering above her hand, the two of you separated slowly. Her hands land on you and Nat is tackling Kate next to you. “Well hello, my little one. No one keeps you hostage but me, understood?” Her voice is deep, smooth as her lips move directly against your ear. 

The sight of the ginger straddling the younger girl below you, hand wrapped around her throat as the two kiss messily. You can’t help the whimper that falls from your mouth, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you try to focus on the feeling of Wanda’s hands on you, but you can’t help as your attention is pulled to the wetness growing between your thighs as you watch the beginning of dry humping. 

“Now, if Mommy’s little girl doesn’t start paying attention I’m not going to be able to take care of that issue growing between your pretty little thighs. Are you my brainless obedient hostage or not?” Her nails grips at your hips now, digging painfully into you as she tugs you backwards into her. Her bulge is prominent as she grinds purposefully into your ass. 

You can’t help but get lost in the sensation, arching your back as much as you can to feel more of the woman behind you. The sound of the witch’s annoyed sigh only turns you on more, as she lets one of her hands claw at your jaw–forcing you to nod your head. “Such a stupid little slut already?” Her other hand is pushing its way into your pants, fingers roughly swiping along your wet folds. “Do you want to play a game with Mommy?” 

Even though you are eagerly nodding your head, the claws that dig into you are forcing your head up and down as well. A sharp whistle makes you flinch, the piercing sound right in your ear as the woman behind you calls for the attention of the others. “It’s time for the puppy to learn how to breed our pretty little fucktoy.” 

Kate practically falls out of her chair at a gentle knock, the door disengaging as her secretary pops her head in. “Are you staying late? I can stay so you're not alone.” Her sympathetic smile makes the young brunette feel almost pathetic. 

Pulling herself up, politely she dismisses her and lets her know that she too is heading out. That she has a busy night ahead of her with some very important plans, but had just lost track of time. The brunette spends the next few minutes cleaning up, taking great care to make sure that her co-worker is fully out of the building before starting her descent down the stairs. A heavy sigh as she pulls up Doordash for some random pizza shop, trying once more to find a place that can take the place of her once favorite parlor.  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Crickets softly chirp, a sound in the early night that still brings a soft smile to the blonde’s face, under the slowly raising moon. A chill is settling over the dead grass and bare branches, a sure indicator that another night time snow fall is approaching. It’s been a while since she felt like this, everyone around her had been so stressed out and tense but she just wanted the world back as she had fallen in love with it. That’s selfish but it’s what she wanted, even though she knows that the pain and despair she is going through is bare minimum compared to her closest people. 

“You know, when we were younger mom would also find you fallen asleep out here. She used to say that you were meant for the night. Viridescent in the moonlight.” Natasha’s smile is forced, and her younger sister can see it from a mile away. It had been for months now, if not even longer but it’s only gotten worse as each day passed.  

The hum is soft, barely loud enough to even be noted in the noise of nature. “I miss them.” Her voice breaks causing her to flinch at the obvious weakness she displayed, a quick flash too early in the conversation. 

Wrapping her arms around the blonde, the older woman takes a moment to press a kiss to her temple before rocking with her. “They loved you so much Y. You don’t even understand. When you came to us, god, that was it. We were complete and we all wanted to protect you so much. I wish we would have done a better job, we kind of failed there.” Even as the ginger looks out into the yard, a newly installed play gym shines in the dim light, she can’t help but let her mind wander to some of the best years she had in this neighborhood. 

“You…Sha, you say Mama and Daddy loved me and I knew that but why do step straight to them?” Yelena blinks up at her sister, relishing in the first sign of emotion from her. She watches her contemplate for a while, silence filled with the chirping of crickets, before she stutters out a few syllables. It ends in a stubborn snap of her jaw, the muscles there tensing as she clenches her mouth shut. “I just believe that they would enjoy it here. We will reunite with Mama soon and maybe by the grace of the gods Daddy will show, but we have people we love here. They once said that we find love grasp on tight, you remember?” 

Natasha nods, hot heavy tears filling her eyes. Forcing them down, she tries to chuckle. “The idea of that man being graced by the gods is hilarious, if anything that man would make it back to Yav in the form of one of Mom’s pigs.” At the dead end glare she receives the older woman gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “Okay, I had to walk away. Okay? Okay. I think everyone can agree that I had to. I had no other choice but to remove myself from the situation. It wasn’t fun or nice but I had to. I had to. I had to Y. Okay?” It wasn’t on purpose but her voice was getting louder and her younger sister could see the anger and desperation rising in her. 

Pulling away to sit directly facing her sister, Yelena takes a deep breath as she goes through her thoughts. She knew that it wasn’t going to be easy and that she needed to take her time, but at the same time it had to be direct and quick to make sure that Natasha didn’t run. “The situation did not require leaving, you should never leave and even Daddy spoke to that. Do you not realize that staying would have allowed you to growth instead of leaving and the entire would becoming rubble?” Internally she flinched, the words spoken were harsh but she knew what she wanted out of this. At the end of the day, she herself was angry. Her sister walked away, without a fight, and the blonde knew that she was in the wrong. No matter how much she may idolize her older sibling she has to knock her off that pedestal once in a while. 

The two sit there, for almost an hour, in silence. It’s agonizing and tedious, a feat that almost feels athletic but it ends with Yelena retreating. A gentle kiss to the ginger’s forehead as she sighs, shaking her head and heading back into the house to allow her to have some time in a calm isolation. 

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

Your brow was dripping slightly, the back of your hand doing barely anything to stop the droplet from stinging your eyes. A chorus of laughter echoes in your ears as you stare down at the facetime call, both Peter and America are frantically running towards your shared destination. “Okay, whoever gets there first needs to make sure that they try and get them to honor our reservation!” 

The boy yelps as he nods, the world rushing as he swings towards the science wing of campus. “I’m gonna beat you both!” He’s laughing loudly as he flips about, and for a moment everything almost seems normal. Just a couple college friends trying to finish some research, all of you aiming to practically overdose on caffeine. 

Trying to focus on not tripping as you exit the gym and keep up with conversation as America runs across campus, the rapid wind being Peter’s only real contribution to the call, you almost miss running straight into someone. Dropping your phone, the dreaded clatter never came and you realize that the beloved item is hovering within a glowing red orb. 

“You truly are just a clumsy little thing, you know?” Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as she looks up at you through her lashes. 

Frantically reaching up to your air pod you hang up your call before your friends can realize who you just ran into, literally, as you try to scramble your brain into thinking of any sort of retort. “Um.. I-” Your vision blurs slightly, but it’s then you realize she’s still crystal clear. The world around her is blurry and fogged, but as per usual she’s the brightest thing to exist. 

She smiles, a sullen thing pulling her lips, and shakes her head. “I just missed you, but you don’t have to reply.” A quick shush stops your arguing and her eyes dim for a moment. “It’s not fair of me but I just wanted to see you, just for a moment. I could never stay too far away from you for long could I?” There’s a slight cocky tone to her voice as she expresses her thoughts, her body straightening as she realizes you still react the same way towards her. 

“Why.. um.. Why didn’t you call me? I would have answered. I always would.” You try to reassure her or maybe that’s all for you, but you can’t help the words as they pour out of you. “You don’t need to miss me, I’m always at your access if you need me. We always promised that and I don’t ever want to break that promise.” 

The older woman chuckles, almost in spite of herself while she takes a few steps away. Her magic forces its way into your hand as it sets your phone there, waiting patiently for you to catch up to what was happening. It’s the last thing you feel, her scent pulling away as she moves farther backwards.

Gentle vibration that you cling to, but you never got to say goodbye as the entire world melts into nothing.  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door closes behind her, a barely warm pizza in hand. It doesn’t smell very appetizing, but anything with cheese should do the trick nowadays. The feeling is instant, the box hitting the counter without a sound. An arrowhead slips down her fingers almost at an instant, swinging around the young girl tries to play her paranoia off casually but her shock is something she can’t. There bent over the chair is Wanda, almost in a frantic state. Her face is flushed and wet with tear stains. Her demeanor is nothing like the CEO is used to but she knows their lives have changed a lot. “W-Wanda? Are you okay? What happened?” Her concern for not only the woman in front of her, but those that connect the two takes over. 

“Please I just want to see someone, anyone. Please. Where is Tommy? Billy? I’m begging you, I’ll do anything.” The woman is sobbing, the words slurring together as she struggles to stand up. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her frame was thin. It almost looked like she had spent weeks searching for these people, but Kate was completely confused. Who was she even speaking of? Did she find a whole new group in just a couple of months? 

Taking a step towards the crouched older woman was a mistake, causing her to practically fling herself backwards. For the first time the young girl stopped, head tilting in confusion and her hand falling to her side, Wanda was scared. It was something that she never saw before, and felt like even on the battlefield she had never even seen an ounce of hesitation from her. 

Slowly Kate slips to the floor, setting the arrowhead out in front of her so that she could seem less like a threat. “Hi, Wanda? Do you know who I am?” She was starting to think that maybe she suffered some kind of brain injury or maybe she was on some sort of drug. 

The frantic woman’s bloodshot eyes snap to match the calm dark waves, and it seems to help her breath a bit better. She shakes her head, pushing away until her back can hit the wall. “I don’t… I don’t know who you are. Am I supposed to?” 

It was a possibility, a small chance, and Kate knew that it was there but hearing it stung. A woman that not only did she look up to but also had grown a large liking to doesn’t know who she is. Though the hurt was sharp, and overwhelming, the young hero tried her hardest to ignore it. She had to save the woman in front of her, she had to make sure that she was taken somewhere that they could restore her memory. 

As gently as possible the archer reaches out, palm upwards. “Can I touch you?” Her voice was soft, almost as if she was talking to a sleeping baby. At the shy nod of Wanda’s head, she smiles. It’s not a beam or bright, but almost like the beginning rays of the sunrise–soft and warm. 

Her hand never makes it there, never touching what looks like a soft sweater, instead the world blacks out and it almost feels like Kate falls into a black hole. 

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

Natasha had grown accustomed to darkness, the time of day when even the moon goes to bed. It happened to be one of her favorite times of the day, a peace that was laid over her like a blanket. When everyone else wanted to do everything during the day, she just wanted to wait for the shadow of night. She worked and thought best at the latest of times, and sometimes that backfired on her; as it was currently. 

She knew that her world was crumbling, but didn’t the destruction start two years ago? The daily life she had created was put on a pause and when she was able to hit play again, the script was rewritten. She was so far behind on rewrites and the new cast members that catching up was impossible, so she went along with what she knew. 

It’s not like she didn’t enjoy everything, nor did she not finally fall into a groove but the foundation she created was not the one everyone stood on. No, instead it had almost felt like a bridge–one laid upon the old foundation. It was strong but it was heavy upon the slowly cracking stone holding it up, time was the only thing in the way of the wreckage. 

For now this was her life, time in the neighborhood that could have been her identity. She could have been part of that family across the way, the one that is sleeping soundly currently and will wake up and get their children to school before heading to work. Maybe she would have been part of the couple that have three dogs and a cat, and work remote jobs so that they can travel the world together. 

Gulping down a thought, she hates to have the visions cross her mind. It could have been her and maybe someone else. Someone else right next to her, smiling and laughing; crying and healing. They could have survived the world together, but the fights would be corporate life and monthly bills. The two of them could have dogs and a cat or two, maybe even a kid if they really wanted. It’s a vision she sees every time she lets her eyes scan the backyard, fairy lights now twinkling dimly to allow enough lighting for safety. 

It’s then when she sees two small crimson orbs, floating. A sense of dread and urgency sinks in her stomach, her fight or flight kicking in and the need to grasp at her widow bites strong. As the circles approach, the figure being illuminated by the string of twinkling dots, Natasha realizes the familiar feeling. Taking her back to Sokovia twelve years ago, she realizes Wanda is the one once again hiding in the shadows; but this time Strucker is not a part of it. 

“Well hello Agent Romanoff.” Her voice was deeper, a bit of that old rage still there. “What are you doing out here, all alone?” 

Despite the girl being far enough out that Natasha could easily escape her, she still felt an overwhelming sense of danger. She knew what this Wanda was capable of, even if it was barely a fraction of what current age Wanda could do, and that was enough for her to let her widow bites activate. She doesn’t give the young girl the sense of pride to speak back to her, just stand at the ready. She couldn’t let her have a moment of the upper hand, she refused to feel her hex again. 

Wanda tilts her head, a mockingly curious look on her face. “Why do you seem so scared, aren’t you the great Black Widow?” She smiles widely, every single one of her teeth shining a faint red as her eyes pulse with her magic. “Or maybe it’s because your best friend Tony Stark isn’t here?” 

Blinking, slowly, Natasha tries to piece together what was happening. What does she mean? Did she lose her memory in the past couple months? Originally she had thought that maybe her magic had consumed her and that it reverted her back to a darker sense of dress, but the way she speaks isn’t something she understands. 

The one thing she is conscious of is the growing ruby orb rolling around in Wanda’s left hand, and the rapidly expanding magic glow around her. The presence of the magic was stronger than almost every moment Natasha had ever seen of the other woman. It scared her and that was the only thing that saved her as she jumped out of the way of the impending attack. 

Except it never happened, the world blurring almost as if her magic stole the ginger’s sight. 

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

Chaos, that’s the only word that can really describe what is happening. It’s only a moment after the world blacked out, only a moment since three lives were blurred and melted back together. 

You didn’t really understand what happened, just a moment ago you  were staring at Wanda for the first time in months and now you were in some random room with people freaking out all around you. She was standing, somewhat away, trapped in a box. She looked confused, but almost at peace, and you wanted to help her. She had been caged before and you never wanted her to ever feel like that again. You didn’t even get to take one step towards her before you watched her start to glitch, almost like a computer screen, before she just disappeared. 

Swinging your head around you tried to find someone who would tell you what was happening, but that’s when you saw her. Kate, your archer, wait no. Kate. Just Kate. She was on her knees, talking to another Wanda who was curled up in a ball crying. It was only another second before that one turned to static. You watched as the brunette frantically stood up, begging for help from the first person she could find. 

Next to her, with shocked eyes, stood Natasha. Her arm is held up by the CEO as her voice gets caught in her throat, but her other hand is outstretched to where a crimson fog is dissipating. The two stare at each other for a moment before Kate apologizes, trying to leave the situation in a professional way. 

In the crowd you blend in, hiding yourself as agents and other Avengers run around. There’s screens and machines all around, things you don’t really understand as everyone is trying to piece together what could be happening. You almost couldn’t tell if you wanted to be seen by the other girl, or even by the widow. Your soul and heart craved her attention, and you knew that your body would relax just from the sight of the ginger’s eyes, but how could you look at them? You had destroyed their lives and now you must live in the ruins of it. 

“ENOUGH!” The loud voice of Dr. Strange freezes everyone, and for a time you think you’re safe. It’s until everyone turns to you, the summoning from the stupid wizard, that for the first time you drown in the salty blue of the eyes you missed most. It was pain, a stabbing through your soul that you knew you would never survive. The need for her attention, even the most miniscule amount of it, was like oxygen. You need it to live, and for the past few months you had none. 

You weren’t sure what any one spoke of, people pushing and shoving not only you but the other two to the center of the floor. A large table there that now seated the rest of the Avengers, three empty chairs left. Even though there is yelling and arguing around, you can’t help but stop. You want to just look at them, forcing your eyes away from Kate was a mistake as you struggle to stay still. You wanted to run to the widow, get on your knees and beg her to come back. 

It was a clearing of a throat that interrupts your thoughts, stern and firm. “We need to discuss Wanda.”

[colibrie]

Confrontations-Double Down, part I

Art credit to the incredible @trilobitepunch

“We’re nearly home…”

Silence met his cautious words, and Mikey chanced glancing away from the shuttles view screen to take in his brother. Leo lay over one of the vehicles rear benches, long legs a messy sprawl and crossed wrists pressed tightly over his eyes. The mouth that so rarely lost its smile was pressed into a deep frown, a minimal improvement on the grimace it had been when Mikey had dumped him there in the scrambled haste to get them in the air and away.

It had not been the smoothest of exits. For all his many talents and interests, he would be the first to admit he knew very little about shuttles, and thus usually left the flying to Leo or their father. But he knew the basics, and a few small dents here and there seemed a small price to pay when every other breath from his prone brother seemed to come attached to a whimpered hiss of pain.

Those had died out too during the two-hour trip home, submitting to silence. This silence was not like the one on the moon, the one that had left his big brother an unrecognizable husk. This one was rare, but unpleasantly familiar, a heavy hush that clung to air like tar, obnoxiously smothering all it encountered.

It wasn’t often that Leo got angry, but the silence foretold a storm brewing behind those crossed wrists.

“Lee?” He tried again, voice wavering uncertainly as he clutched the controls, swallowing hard as the ground grew steadily closer. “I know you probably feel five different kinds of not great right now, but..uh…you remember the last time I tried landing the shuttle on my own, right?”

They still hadn’t removed all the scratches from along the underbelly of the ship.

His mouth went dry as an alarm chimed on the consul, the alert that said it was time to begin the landing sequence. Hands that were definitely not shaking hesitated over the control panel, a heart that was definitely not pounding skipping a few beats as the multitude of colorful switches and buttons became suddenly incomprehensible. Was…was he supposed to extend the landing gear? No, no that came after engaging the…what? The V-Tol! Which were next to the…the…

“This one first.”

Leo’s warm hand wrapped around his smaller one, guiding it to the correct switch while his other reached around to steady the hand still resting on the yoke. Mikey sagged, heart rate dropping back to a more acceptable rhythm as Leo’s chin came to gently rest on the top of his head.

It didn’t fix anything. The storm beyond the silence still loomed, simmering and churning. The events of the day still painted their skin in swirls of dusty bruises. But here, wrapped up in his brother’s embrace as Leo walked him through the landing procedure yet again, their home in clear view down a familiar winding path, things didn’t seem nearly so overwhelming. Panic took a few steps back, making some room for rational thought to start parsing out the cloud of “Omigosh,” and “What just happened?” that kept obscuring his thoughts.

“Easy. Keep her steady. Touch down in 3,2,1…”

 The shuttle bounced slightly as its struts met solid earth, the hull groaning and pinging softly as Mikey and Leo worked together to shut down the engine and run through the post flight checks. Leo’s arms disappeared as the back hatch whooshed open, replacing sterile ship air with the humid scents of swampy moss and sun warmed trees. Mikey slumped back in his seat and let relief sweep over him like a wave, tension unraveling from his limbs as he tried to crack his neck.

“Whew, home sweet home! Thanks for the save Leon…Leo?”

The pilot’s chair squeaked as he turned, expecting to feel the pressure of a teasing noogie or the warmth of an arm pulling him up. But neither came. The cabin was empty, and Leo’s form was rapidly disappearing down the path.

“Leo!”

Mikey threw himself out of the chair, scrambling to catch up to his elder brother’s longer strides.

“Leo, slow down!”

Leo did not slow down. He did not even pause to acknowledge Mikey as he stalked towards their house. The sun beat down, dappling their path with shadows, yet the atmosphere between them hung heavy as the storm gained speed. Dark clouds of emotion swirled and danced in Leo’s shadow, flickering, and snapping in the folds of his coat. His back and arms were ram rod straight, invisible currents of electricity barely held back by flesh and bone. Hands that had been so gentle on his only moments ago were now clenched into fists so tight that the knuckles on his skin had turned a pale green.

“Leo…what’s going on?” Mikey tried again, his own arms rising to hold himself in a hug as the barometric pressure of Leo’s emotions pulled dangerously at the residues of his own fear and confusion.

“Who were those guys? Why were they trying to kill us?! Why was the little one so upset with you? He said…. he said you promised him something?”

His questions finally seemed to hit home as Leo slowed, and Mikey took it as a sign to keep going. Not that he had much of a choice. Now that he had gotten his initial questions out words and feelings rushed together, bubbling past his lips like water from a fountain.

“Those armored guys didn’t just find us by accident, did they? They were looking for us. They know us. Or at least, they know you. And you know them too, don’t you? That’s why you froze up.”

Leo stopped. Frozen once more in the middle of the path, as though Mikeys words were some kind of mystic spell.

“C’mon LeeLee, talk to me,” he begged, keeping his voice feather soft and open around this oldest of childhood nicknames. His heart panged as Leo’s shoulders dropped, stark pain splitting through the storm like a flash of lightning. It was unusual for his brother’s true feelings to be so openly displayed; Mikey would not waste the opportunity.

“You don’t have to face this alone. I’m here. I may not know who they are… and I really don’t know how to explain this, but…it hurt to see them,” Mikey continued, shrinking in on himself a little at the mention of his own tangled emotions. “It felt…wrong. Everything about that was wrong. We shouldn’t have been fighting them and as much as I’m glad we got away its…like something is missing now. In here.”

He pointed to his chest, towards the dull pain that was slowly making itself known in the depths of his heart.

“Mikey…”

The return of Leo’s voice was a welcoming sign, but he did not let it sidetrack him.

“Tell me what is happening.”  

“I…It’s…”

“Ahem.”

Both boys jumped, shocked faces whipping up in tandem to stare at the diminutive form of their father, suddenly standing before of them on the path.

“H-hey dad!” Leo coughed, cheeks contorting awkwardly as he quickly pulled out his signature ‘Faceman’ smile. “How’s it going?”

“Would one of you care to explain where you have been all day?”

Mikey winced, slipping to stand slightly further behind Leo as his father tried to pin him with a piercing glare.

“We were on a supply run, remember? You asked me to go two days ago?” Leo swept in, shoulders casually shrugging to pull the focus back to him.

“I did indeed, Leonardo. Yet, curiously, I see no supplies. Only two sons, one of whom was supposed to stay home today, who look like they have been a brawl.”

“Ehehehe, what? Come on dad, does that sound like us?” Leo laughed, waving one hand through the air in airy dismissiveness. “The market was kinda light on the supplies we needed, and I wasn’t gonna waste our funds on substandard stuff. I’ll go back in a few days once the new shipments come in. As for the rest, it’s kinda a funny story actually. See there was this-”

“If its so hilarious,” Splinter cut in, “then I am sure Michelangelo would be delighted to tell me all about it.”

“M-me?” Mikey squeaked, fingers tapping and sweat breaking out across his brow as splinters beady eyes turned expectantly to him. “I-uh-well…”

“I am waiting to be amused,” his father prompted, deadpan gaze boring into Mikey as the pressure mounted.

“The thing is…we…we went to the market-”

“We established that.”

“Right! Right hahaha. Um, and then after that we, uh… we went…”

“Keep it together Mikey,” Leo mumbled under his breath, smile taking on a sharp edge as he shot a covert glare over his shoulder. “Remember what happens to snitches.”

“Do not interrupt!” Splinter snapped, tail whipping out to smack Leo’s side. Pain tightened the corners of Leo’s eyes, his breath hissing from between clenched teeth as the eldest fought to keep his posture normal. A fight easily noted by their father.

“Is that also part of the ‘funny story’?” Splinter demanded, an edge of concern creeping into his voice as he leaned in towards Leo.

“M-Maybe?” Mikey stuttered lamely, resolve crumbling under his father’s scowl and the renewed evidence of the day’s impacts. “We, uh, maybe took a slight detour on our way so that I could work on…stuff.”

“Mikey!”

“What kind of ‘stuff’”

“Um...f-force stuff?”

“Mikey, shut up!”

“And while we were there, completely minding our own business and not bothering anyone, these two guys showed up and then one of them started yelling at Leo about promises and the other tried to cut me into itty bitty pieces! And the first guy threw Leo into a wall and the whole building started coming down but we got out of there and we flew straight home and,um…that’s about everything.”

The sound of flesh meeting flesh was loud as Leo’s face met his palm.

“How many times,” Splinter started, arms waving and voice quickly growing in volume, “have I told you boys not to trifle with the force? How many times have I told you of the dangers that could befall us if you are recognized. You stole my holocron, didn’t you?! I knew I should have thrown that thing into a black hole when I had the chance!”

Mikey shrank back as their father’s angry rant continued, gaze shifting anxiously between his father and brother. Leo stood with his arms crossed, posture and facial expressions set in a carefully cultivated mask of disregard and boredom. He knew that look, it was one Leo wore when he didn’t want his true thoughts or feelings to be perceived, a near flawless fortress. Except for his eyes. Mikey had learned that Leo’s eyes were never as fully guarded as the rest of him, and right now his eyes were dark with the storm that surged and strained to get free. A storm that was now fully focused on their father.

“You two are never to do this again, do you hear me?! How long has it been going on?!”

“Jee, I don’t know pops,” Leo replied, voice flippantly cold and smooth in a way that sent shivers down Mikey’s spine. “How long were you going to lie to us?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Splinter growled, scowl deepening.

“Lee, don’t,” Mikey whispered, reaching out to grab his brother’s shoulder in an attempt to defuse the impending explosion, only to have his hand shrugged away as Leo turned to fully face their father.

“How long were you going to lie to us about Raph and Donnie being alive?”

Their father froze, shock obliterating all traces of anger as he stared at them.

“Wh-what?”

“Raphael and Donatello are alive,” Leo enunciated, lightning snapping between the vowels. “We weren’t caught by some random bounty hunters; we were caught by our brothers. Brothers with red lightsabers, dressed in black armor. Brothers you said were dead.”

“Wait…what?!” Mikey gasped, neck cracking as his head whipped between the opposing members of his family. “Those guys are…but…how?! They died years ago!”

“Great question Miguel,” Leo muttered darkly, “any thoughts, dad?”

“I…no, that… that is impossible,” Splinter stuttered, his hands shaking as one rose to cover his open mouth.

“That ‘impossible’ put me through a wall! Not into one, through it!” Leo snapped, taking a single step forward. “That ‘impossible’ tried its hardest to slice Mikey into ribbons! That-”

“Leo, stop!” Mikey commanded, flinching but standing firm as the ferocity in his brothers’ glare was momentarily diverted to him. “I get you are upset and confused. I am too. But if we want answers, let dad talk.”

For a long moment, nothing was said. Leo glared, defiant, and Mikey waited, face soft and expression gently pleading. Splinter watched, face grave as he waited for his sons to reach a verdict. Finally, Leo’s shoulder slumped, storm clouds contained once more as he crossed his arms and stepped back, silently facing their father with a brusque nod.

“Okay dad, start from the beginning,” Mikey encouraged, plastering on what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “What happened to Donnie and Raph to make you believe they were dead?”

Splinter sighed, bowing his head as his eyes unfocused, staring into the past.

[livsoulsecrets]

BuckTommy Fic - I want the luck of a quiet love

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Day 3 - Bad Weather Days (mental or literal)

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of homophobia and homophobic slurs

Summary: Buck’s dealing with Gerrard’s presence by keeping everything bottled up. Tommy helps him unwind.

“Sometimes I feel like the whole world is trying to tell me who I should be and how I should act.”

“Not the whole world,” Tommy countered, cradling Evan’s face between his hands. “I want you to be exactly who you are, Evan Buckley.”

Read on AO3.

The thing about Evan that never failed to surprise Tommy was that he was an open book.

No emotion was guarded, not truly. It was all there, plastered across his face.

When he was happy, his eyes wrinkled, and his smile took over half his face. When he was sad, the tears trailed down his reddened cheeks without shame.

But when he was mad, it was usually quiet for a while before the dam broke.

Evan was mad a lot these days. Tommy could see it in the tense line of his shoulders—he could feel it under his fingers when he undid the knots across his back.

There was anger simmering inside him, and Tommy knew it was the only thing holding back the sadness. He was angry for Bobby’s removal from the 118 and his replacement for Gerrard, for Mara being taken away from Hen and Karen, for Chris being gone, and for the effect it had on Eddie.

Tonight, though, his anger felt different—more tangible, no longer a mere coverup for the losses Evan had faced. Not even the hot shower and Tommy’s hands dancing across his spine had dispersed it.

Tommy knew that type of anger well enough. He had been on the other side of it. He had come home after a bad shift with the feeling of failure hanging heavy on his shoulders, and Evan’s presence had been the only thing keeping him together in the aftermath.

In the darkness of Evan’s room, with his boyfriend draped over his chest, Tommy asked quietly, “Did something happen today?”

Evan remained quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “I feel like everything has been happening lately.”

Tommy didn’t take the diversion for what it was, but he also didn’t push for Evan to share more.

In the quietness that followed, Evan rolled away from his arms and sat up on the bed. Tommy followed suit, sitting cross-legged across from Evan, who was supporting himself against the headboard.

Evan tapped his fingers against his own thigh before he faced Tommy again. “It’s Gerrard.”

Tommy bristled at that, trying his best to control the anger that rose within him at the mere mention of that name.

Evan’s voice was quiet as he went on, and Tommy missed the usual enthusiasm that always laced Evan’s words. He had once ranted to Tommy about the foundation of the United States Postal Service with so much passion that Tommy had smiled every time he went to pick up his mail for weeks.

He hated Gerrard for plenty of justified reasons, and he could add one more to the list now.

“He had been treating me like I was just like him at first. Cracking his stupid jokes and bragging about the rescues he pulled when he was my age, and I just wanted to run him over with one of the trucks, but Hen had told me we needed to be at our best behavior to help Bobby get back, so I tried. I really tried, Tommy.”

Evan ran a hand through his hair, and continued, “He definitely noticed I didn’t think the sun came out of his ass after the first few days. So, at least I didn’t need to deal with him trying to take me under his wing this last week.”

“That never ends well, trust me,” Tommy agreed.

Evan chuckled and then added, “It was around the end of the shift today—which had been hell—and he told one of the probies, Morris, to clean up the trucks.”

Evan stalled for a moment, seeming to brace himself for what he was going to say next. “When Morris left, I got up and said I’d go help just so I could have some excuse to get away from that asshole. That’s when Gerrard told me to sit down, ‘cause the fairy probie was going to take care of it.”

Tommy cringed, more than capable of envisioning Gerrard’s voice spitting out the most absurd of things in its disturbingly nonchalant tone.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that. And for the probie too,” Tommy reached out and took Evan’s hand, playing with his fingers. He hoped that could offer his boyfriend some comfort. “What happened then?”

“I told him we fairies needed to stick together,” Evan murmured, a grin pulling at the sides of his perfect mouth.

Tommy couldn’t help it. He laughed, a full-body giggle that released the tension he had been holding within himself since Evan began his tale.

“And I assume he didn’t love the response.”

“I didn’t stick around to see it, to be honest,” Evan shrugged, “but I got a good look at his face before I left. There was this disdain in his eyes—this blind hatred that I had never seen before. It’s so stupid to say it, but I felt like I was the one in the wrong there for a second.”

“You weren’t. Of course you weren’t.”

“I know that, but I don’t think I feel it yet. No one has ever looked at me like that. Not even my mom when she was furious, and, trust me, she has been furious with me a lot.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t entirely sure where to start unpacking all of that, but he figured Evan needed him to listen more than he needed him to talk right now.

“It was different with Gerrard, though. He wasn’t angry at me for doing something stupid and getting hurt. He decided right there that he hated me because of who I am. I think it was the first time it happened to me. Hen had told me about how he was and what he was capable of, but it’s different when it’s happening in the present, right in front of your eyes…”

Evan stared at his lap. “I feel like an idiot. I can’t believe I let him get in my head.”

Tommy shook his head, tugging on Evan’s hand to get his full attention. “Let’s not go there. It’s not your fault Gerrard gets out of bed every day with his mind set on making everyone’s lives a living hell. You stood up for yourself, and for Morris. I’m proud of you for that. I do think, though, you need to be very careful these next few days, and not let him hurt you, because he’ll try.”

Evan hanged on to his every world, like a man adrift at sea who needed a way home. Tommy hoped he didn’t make them both sink.

His boyfriend leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. Evan muttered against his lips, “Thank you.”

When he pulled away, Evan said, “I hate that he got under my skin. I’m still adjusting to so much, and sometimes I feel like the whole world is trying to tell me who I should be and how I should act.”

“Not the whole world,” Tommy countered, cradling Evan’s face between his hands. “I want you to be exactly who you are, Evan Buckley.”

Evan dropped his forehead against Tommy’s and let out an exhausted sigh. “And who is that, Tommy?”

“The type of man who doesn’t let people like Gerrard prey on the weak. I’d give anything to have the bravery you had today, back when I was in the 118. You fight for what you believe in, and what you believe in is kindness. How could I want you to be anything other than exactly that?”

Evan stayed very quiet for a moment and backed away a bit to take a good look at Tommy’s face.

“God, I love you,” he uttered.

Tommy’s mouth fell open in a quiet gasp, unsure if he had heard what he thought he heard.

Before he could confirm, Evan grabbed his face and kissed him.

It was a mess of hands, tongue, and teeth, as Tommy felt himself being pushed into the bed and Evan’s body covering his own.

Like that kiss Evan planted on his lips when he walked into the hospital for Chim and Maddie’s wedding, this one spelled out all the emotions Evan couldn’t put into words.

And Tommy took them in stride, like he always did and always would. He’d take anything Evan gave him because he was a miracle, and Tommy would be a fool to deny him anything he wanted.

“I love you so much,” Evan said again, and there was no room for doubt now.

When Evan’s brain caught up with what he said, his eyes widened, and he planted his hands on each side of Tommy’s head to push himself off him in a frenzy, but Tommy laced a hand through his waist and pulled him closer again.

“I love you too, Evan.”

“You do?” He asked in awe, like Tommy would ever lie about that.

“So much,” Tommy said, and kissed him again for good measure.

“I can’t believe I just said I love you to you for the first time in the middle of a rant about freaking Gerrard,” Evan grunted, dropping his head to Tommy’s shoulder.

“That might be the one good thing this man has ever done for me,” he mused, lifting Evan’s head from its hiding spot, “so I’ve got no complaints.”

Evan laughed, and it sounded more genuine this time.

“We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but we will. Gerrard will not be there forever. Things’ll get better,” Tommy told him, and found that he actually believed in it.

For all the things Evan had changed by coming into his life, Tommy had never expected he’d turn into an optimist.

“I know. He was kicked out once. We’ll get him again,” Evan agreed.

He then propped his head atop Tommy’s chest, his hand tracing Tommy’s chin while the other traveled down.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and it should have looked ridiculous, but that was Evan. Tommy found everything he did endearing.

“Now, can we forget that man exists for the rest of the night? I have better ideas of what to do with our time.”

“Do tell me,” Tommy said, a bit breathless.

Evan did. And Tommy followed him easily, as he was starting to suspect he would do for the rest of his life.

[juuuulez]

📰 | part nine: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers, finally they kiss, enemies with benefits, based on s7 finale, secret relationship except they’re not in a relationship, Carl almost dies.

summary: Alexandria has regained their power, and Carl narrowly escapes death. Finally, your feelings catch up to each other. Season 7 finale.

-> masterlist <-

okay!!!! FINALLY i got this done! this will be our LAST sorta canon chapter, because we all know the tragedy of season 8……so now i’m diverging the story into my own canon ;)

also entering a new phase of the carl and reader relationship..definitely a more exciting one! don’t worry, it’s still slowburn, just a bit more heated!

You were trying your best to ignore Carl, the past couple of days. Maybe you were a tad embarrassed that he’d seen you during a vulnerable moment. There was a part of your brain that still hadn’t accepted it, and knew that being around Carl would only remind you, that you’d receive the brunt of his sympathy.

Sympathy was not what you wanted.

But as always, sooner or later, you wound up within those walls once more.

Tensions were high.

They had weapons, too many of them. This surely wasn’t it, right? The Saviours had been through worse. But these people were like cockroaches, their spirit didn’t die, they kept coming back up and rebelling. You were getting sick of it. Negan was, too.

Everything went sideways when Sasha’s zombified corpse fell out of the coffin. It all ramped up too quickly, and before you knew it, there was gunfire.

It was relatively easy to get under control, yet still, there was always that voice that wondered if this would do it, this is the fight that kills you. It never does, yet you consider it.

A few members of Alexandria are killed in the process. One you take with your metal bat, disarming the man initially, yet his persistence to live claws at your feet, dragging you down onto the concrete. He’d pulled a knife from his sheath, trying to stab you, leaving you to finally crack the bat down onto his skull.

You were a high ticket item, I guess. It’s a surprise nobody else was itching for this chance to end your life.

Eventually, it all dies down. You take a moment to wipe the blood off your hands, trying to catch your breath and regain your composure before stepping back into the chaos.

When you do, a frown fills your features. Not exactly at upset expression, just something pensive.

Carl and Rick, on their knees. You weren’t listening to Negan, likely able to guess what he’s saying. What he wants. God forbid you try to stop it.

In fact, you didn’t want to.

Carl grit his jaw to ignore that urge to get up, to fight, to try to escape. He glared across the grass, practically into your soul. It wasn’t an urge for help, just a pointed look. This is what your family does.

If this was it, if he died, he’d want you to see it. Maybe just to rub it in your face, that he’d died for a noble cause, whilst you’d eventually fall victim to the uprising of Alexandria. At least, that’s how Carl saw it happening.

When the countdown ends, he unconsciously tenses, eyes screwed shut to combat confronting whatever happens next.

Were you really going to do nothing?

And yet it doesn’t happen.

Shiva mauled a nearby Saviour, taking the attention off of him, and back onto the simmering rebellion. Carl recovers quickly from the shock of near death, forced to rejoin the fight, even if his mind is still reeling.

Maybe he thought you were softening up, after that night in the cabin. It had humanised you. This sort of reversed all that.

The gunfire become unruly, and it was clear who was winning. If this was any indication of the future, then the Saviours were at the end of the line, and Carl was more than happy for it.

He’d managed to escape into a narrow alleyway between two houses, hoping to sneak around and get behind the enemy group, take them by surprise.

However, he makes it a few paces down the alley, before crossing into the gravel path behind the buildings. His senses are sharpened, luckily, for within seconds a dense mass is swinging at his head.

Carl narrowly avoids the bat, ducking fast enough that it swings into the house, getting caught in the wooden boards. They splinter around the metal, concaving inwards, rendering it stuck.

“Fuck!” You swear, tugging with all your might to free it, knowing it’s your only weapon. The adrenaline still pumps through your veins, moreso focused on rearming yourself, less on Carl finally standing within your vicinity.

There’s no doubt he’s angry, hence why you need your weapon back, pulling furiously to try and break the wooden confines. It’s too late, because then Carl harshly shoves your shoulder, pushing you away from the trapped baseball bat.

“What the hell was that?” He sneers, finally letting the frustration and fear towards almost dying pour out. “He was going to kill me, and you just watched?”

You roll your eyes, that snarky attitude resurfacing, reverting to this version of yourself that doesn’t care. “He wasn’t, alright? You would’ve been fine.”

The assurance means nothing, for Carl still invades your space, his face practically inches from your own. “Bullshit!” He yells.

In response, you shove him away. It sends the boy stumbling back into the alley, and the second he’s regained his footing, he’s trying to push you against the wall.

It’s almost childish, the way you fight. Pushing and shoving like toddlers, yet with the strength of two teenagers, fueled by years of surviving and adapting and hormones.

You manage to sweep your foot out, tripping Carl up, letting him fall to the ground. Before he can try to get up, which he attempts immediately, you’re pinning him to the ground, planted firmly on his chest.

One hand lands on your neck, almost putting enough pressure to choke you. Carl’s other hand grips your waist, trying to push you off him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” He shouts, despite how close you are, “You want me dead, huh? After all that bullshit—“

“Shut up!” You yell, cutting him off, slamming your hand over his mouth. It tastes salty like sweat, and little bits of dirt are pressed into his face, but Carl can’t do much but let it happen.

With him finally silenced, you manage to take a few deep breaths, trying to organise your thoughts. You two glare at eachother, before you slowly remove your hand, lifting it away from him.

“You—“ Carl attempts again, only for your palm to reclaim his face. This time you pinch his cheeks with your pointer and thumb, causing a disgruntled expression to overtake his features, trying again to squirm from your grasp.

“Don’t talk.” You hiss, this time not letting go, just needing him to be quiet whilst you try and explain.

That, and it felt a little good to put him in his place. But you didn’t have time to savour the feeling, for Carl tightens his grip on your neck, forcing you to hurry with the explanation.

“Negan is not going to hurt you,” You try to tell him, speaking slowly and clearly, wanting to get it into his thick skull. “Let alone kill you. Okay?”

The suggestion causes Carl to try and protest, likely having ten billion reasons why he thinks otherwise, but you’re quick to silence him with a firm grip on his jaw. He shoots you an irritated look, yet remains quiet.

“As long as you’re alive, we can control Rick,” You explain, “The second something happens to you, he stops caring. Right now, you’re the only leverage we have. So, Negan bluffs. I mean, c’mon, you really thought he was gonna do that?”

Carl gives no response, maybe because he’s thinking about it. But you give him the benefit of the doubt, loosening your hold on his jaw, yet leaving your hand there. The pair of you are still panting, and Carl struggles to breathe slightly under your weight on his chest. As such, you shift down a little, but still remain atop him.

For some reason, you keep talking. Maybe there is an inkling of regret, a bubbling guilt over just standing and observing whilst Carl confronted potentially imminent death.

“But that doesn’t mean you get ‘t do stupid stuff, yeah? Especially not now. Things are getting messy, and now you’ve all got guns, so.. I dunno, don’t get cocky, because we can still punish you for it.” You ramble on.

Carl stays silent, letting you run your mouth. He’s not really listening. This is the closest you’ve been before, and you’re practically sitting in his lap, knees planted either side of his thighs whilst you hover.

The hand on your waist remains, settled there, feeling the warmth of your body. That white tank you always wear is thin, dirtied from todays fight, and rides up just enough to reveal a slither of your stomach. God, this is so irrational. But right now, you’re looking less like the enemy, and more like a pretty girl.

Somehow, you’re still talking, rambling about how these next few days will be dangerous, and how Carl should watch out for any surprise Saviour visits. How Negan will be trying to catch everybody off guard.

You’re not even looking at him, staring down at the dirt next to you whilst your mind runs. Carl let’s his hand shift downwards from your waist, just a bit, wondering how low it could get before you caught on. Those tight black jeans, clinging to your form, have never been so tempting.

“That, and I don’t think..” You trail off when you notice Carl’s silence, finally becoming a little more aware of your position. He’s barely even paying attention. “Carl.”

His eyes flicker back up to you, from wherever they’d been looking at. You realise that he’s essentially eye-level with your chest, causing you to tug at his jaw, pulling his face up to force his attention back on you.

Neither of you speak, as Carl shifts a little, pushing himself into a sitting position, approaching in on your personal space. You stay put, on edge, trying to decipher what he’s up to. The hand on your waist travels lower, to your hip, whilst Carl’s grip on your neck loosens so he’s simply holding you.

“Carl.” You whisper again, almost as a warning, quickly catching on to what’s happening here. There’s still gunfire outside the alley, people fighting. That, and this is definitely a bad idea.

This isn’t the face of somebody who wants you dead. Carl is looking at you with an certain want in his eyes, and it’s precious and innocent yet dirty at the same time. For a second, you actually just feel like a teenage girl. Smitten.

Shaking your head, you try to look away from his face, his lips, his eyes. “We’re not doing this.” You whisper, and yet, make no attempt to get off him.

He clocks this, more aware than yourself of how much you might actually want this, even if you say otherwise. But he doesn’t make a move, trying to coax you into a position of agreement, like he needs to hear you say it first. “C’mon, just a little bit.” Carl whispers back, and you can feel his breath on your face.

It’s ridiculous that you’ve let it get this far. You try to consider all the consequences, all the reasons this is stupid, but your brain feels all foggy and mushy. It takes the slightest movement and your lips are brushing together.

You pull back before it can even be called a kiss. Just the tiniest bit, brows furrowed, looking slightly worried. Carl doesn’t chase you down. He doesn’t move, allowing you to take the lead, as if trusting that you do want this. And you do.

That’s why you go back again.

This time, your lips actually meet, and it’s hesitant and awkward at first. But it doesn’t take long to find your footing. One hand still holds onto Carl’s jaw, tilting his head back slightly, giving you access to lick into his mouth. The other hand shifts into his hair, thumb brushing against the back of his neck, fingers gently twirling in the brown locks.

They’re soft. You’d thought so.

Carl leans backwards so he’s laying down, letting you properly sit on his lap. His arms are wrapped around you, hands planted firmly on your ass over those tight jeans, tugging you further down into his body.

You’ve never kissed someone like this before. Neither has he. The adrenaline in your veins pumps hard, urging you to claim his mouth as your own, to which Carl eagerly kisses back.

Eventually, you have to pull away for air, resting your forehead against Carl’s. Your lips are red and swollen from the kissing, coated in a sheen of spit, an expression mirrored on his features. Except that after a moment of breathing, Carl begins to grin, which makes your expression sour.

“Don’t.” You grunt, not wanting to hear whatever he has to say.

But Carl shakes his head, the movement small to not disturb your rest against him. “I just think you look pretty from this angle.”

You still roll your eyes, even if the compliment settles it’s way into your heart, making an unfamiliar warmth spread in your chest. The blush on your face must be evident, because Carl moves his hands upwards, settling over your waist and holding you close to him.

“I’ve gotta go. They’re still fighting.” You remind him, voice lowered to a hushed whisper due to the proximity of the situation. It’s weird, being this intimate and private with Carl. The person you hate more than anything.

His grip tightens on you a little more, holding firmly so that Carl can roll over, placing you down on the dirty path, leaning over your form. “Or I could take you hostage.” He suggests, a wicked grin on his face. So cute.

You don’t know if he’s being serious, but you don’t really care. That’s why you’re drawn to him. Because Carl is one of the few people who isn’t afraid to challenge you.

“That’s not happening,” You scoff, “You’re on thin ice, Grimes. Especially if you want this little stunt to repeat itself.”

The suggestion causes Carl to let up, rolling off you and allowing you some space. You sit once more, dusting some of the dirt off your white tank, pulling it back down to cover up your skin.

“So… you’d do it again?” He asks, watching as you stand, a hopeful expression on his face.

You move towards the building, where the bat is still stuck in splintered wood. It only takes one firm yank to pull it free, leaving a sizeable dent in somebody’s house.

So you’re not facing him when you answer, which is potentially a good thing, because you’re definitely blushing. “Maybe. Play your cards right.”

A sharp sound cuts through the commotion. That whistle you’ve grown to love, and Carl has grown to resent. To you, it means safety, someone to stand by. To him, it’s disaster.

Knowing you have to leave, that the Saviours are retreating, Carl backs off. He stands a few paces away from you, preparing for your sudden departure, mentally reminding himself of this unspoken divide between the pair of you.

Yet, you shoot him one more glance, an awkward little smile on your face. “Don’t get yourself killed.” You tell him, it likely being the most sincere string of words you’ve ever expressed to the boy.

He’ll take it.

He’ll take anything, at this point. The price of hatred was worth it, if this were the outcome.

So Carl let’s you leave, where you run back between the houses, deftly sneaking away to reunite with the Saviours before they can take their trucks and leave Alexandria. Sure, he probably should have backed up that hostage comment, but experiencing this again? That wasn’t something he could pass up.

Now was to make sure nobody found out.

[treason-and-plot]

Get to Know Me- Sims Style

Thank you for tagging me @bool-prop and @autonomousllama!

What’s your favorite Sims death?

It would have to be the Guinea Pig virus from Sims 1. That was amazing, and the way Will Wright snuck it into the game was pure genius (or evil, depending on your perspective!)

Alpha CC or MaxisMatch?

Mostly Alpha.

Do you cheat your sims weight?

As someone who uses the Sims primarily as a storytelling medium, I have to say yes. Some most of my dinner scenes require a lot of takes to get exactly right, and my Sims have no choice but to stuff themselves for hours at a time and often bulk up as a result. The least I can do for them afterwards is to slim them back down again.

Do you move objects?

I think it's mandatory for storytellers?

Favourite Mod?

The Sims 3 would be unplayable for me without a whole slew of mods, but top of the list would be Master Controller.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack?

The Sims: Livin' Large

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing

It's the same pronunciation as aLIVE, and I will unALIVE myself on that hill.

Who’s your favourite sim that you’ve made?

I have not technically made many Sims, the vast majority are downloaded from other Simmers a lot more talented than me, or have been born/ created in game. And the few I have made are all pretty meh.

Have you made a simself?

Yes! She is currently hanging out in @gaiahypothesims' game and just like me she is the epitome of style and sophistication, as you can see from the pic that Gaia sent me below.

Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Probably the strawberry blonde.

Favorite EA hair?

This one:

Favorite life stage?

Young Adult

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Gameplay/ storytelling.

Are you a CC creator?

No.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad?

I have a couple of Simblr friends that I message regularly and who have even entrusted me with their phone numbers, so I feel very blessed.

Do you have any sims merch?

No.

Do you have a YouTube for sims?

Next.

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I can't really answer this because as stated earlier I very rarely create Sims.

What’s your origin id?

I don't have Origin. The best thing I ever did back in the day was to heed the advice of the doom merchants and not upgrade my TS3 game to patch 1.69. Patch 1.69 forced players to use Origin to launch their games. I always used the TS3W shortcut to open my game and I continue to do so to this day. I'm so, so thankful when I hear about all the issues other Simmers are experiencing with Origin and the EA app.

Who’s your favorite CC creator?

I hate to play favourites but I'm going to use this opportunity to give shout-outs to Sandy from @aroundthesims and @spladoum because they have both gone out of their way to create beautiful things for me- check out Sandy's beautiful objects here and Splad's gorgeous poses here!

How long have you had simblr?

Since November 2010.

How do you edit your pictures?

I use Picasa, and Pixlr if I'm feeling particularly creative.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite?

Nothing has ever compared to the unadulterated joy I experienced playing Open For Business for Sims 2. Nearly every single one of my households either owned a home business or a retail outlet and the gameplay, challenges and fun were just phenomenal.

I would like to tag @gaiahypothesims @wannabecatwriter @petrolstationflowers @oasislandingresident @imaginary-sims @hurricanesims @hancyan @brannewjoint and @windermeresimblr!

[buckysgrace]

10. Springsteen

Part 10 to Every Little Thing!

CW: Mentions and references to underage sex and abuse! Also blow jobs :)

Then

“Are you okay?” The night seemed to be darker than usual, thick clouds hanging over the high moon to keep the moonlight from shining in. 

It felt odd, different. His mom was gone. No word from her since the day she’d left. Daphne was also gone, a family trip to Florida that he had been wishing he could’ve been allowed to join. Ruby had persisted, only for Roy to shut her down.

He felt like he needed to distance himself from her but was unable to. The more that Roy broke down his innocence, the more he grew irritated with Daphne’s. It wasn’t her fault. She had fiery hair and was decorated in kisses from the sun, but she never came too close to the rays to actually burn. He felt the opposite, like he was sweltering and about to boil over.

Distance never worked. Not even when he said cruel things to her and hung out around girls that were his age. He always came back and she always had a warm smile and kind eyes like she already knew exactly why he did those things.

He felt like his mind was muddled and twisted, fogged over from the confusion of his mom leaving and Nadine stepping up into that role. He didn’t think of her as a mom, Linda was his mom. But he was no longer allowed to talk about Linda. Nor did he understand the things Roy did to Nadine. He was no stranger to Roy hitting Linda, but the different things he did to Linda left his stomach queasy.

“Yeah,” Nadine replied slowly before she glanced towards him, “Just a few bruises. Nothing I can’t handle.” She said cheerily, although the smile didn’t meet her eyes. Gator laid next to her in silence, unsure of how to soothe her worries. He didn’t understand the lessons himself, didn’t understand why things couldn’t have stayed how they were.

“Are you going to leave?” He asked softly, glancing over towards her in a silent prayer that she’d look at him and say no. He had been simmering over this question for a while now, but had been too afraid to ask it. Roy was gone, attending some important conflict that had blazed out of control over night.

“I don’t know.” Nadine kept her eyes trailed towards the ceiling. He joined her, wondering if she was also picking out the different faces that were made from the bubbly ceiling. He did that a lot at night anymore, when his music could no longer die out the screams coming from the next room. 

“My mom left,” He said softly, his throat raw as he spoke. His thoughts stalled before he spoke up again, “She left us.” He clarified a second later, thinking that statement to be true. Linda had treated Nadine like her child. The thought made him a little squeamish, because how could that be true when Roy treated Nadine as an adult? 

“She did.” Nadine confirmed, keeping her eyes peeled towards the ceiling. Despite how dark the night was, he could still see the bruises etched into the side of her face. Her nose was bent a little odd, like it might be broken. 

“Don’t leave me.” He said at last, suddenly fearing what would happen if he was the only one left here. Roy had been harder on him for some unknown reason. Gator wondered if it had to do with Linda leaving, but he thought that was ridiculous. Surely, he hadn’t been the one to drive his mother away. But then again, she hadn’t brought Gator with her. 

“Alright,” Nadine mumbled gently as she turned on her side to face him, “Where would we go?” The corners of her lips twitched softly, just gently enough to give him the hint that she may be smiling. He stared at her, wishing he had some answer to her question. He’d never gone anywhere. He’d been stuck in the same spot his whole life. He’d never been to the beach like Daphne had and he couldn’t even imagine living somewhere that wasn’t nearby. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” He answered honestly, whispering just in case the ghosts in the walls may reveal their secrets, “Just promise you won’t go without me.” He said at last, eventually coming to the conclusion that it wouldn’t matter. He’d find a way to bring Daphne with him. It’d all be alright. 

Nadine watched him for a long moment before she slowly jerked her chin in agreement. She didn’t speak it outloud, but Gator took her word for it regardless.

////////////////////

Daphne came back with her shoulders and cheeks a bright red, her hair a little sun bleached and an excitement to her that Gator couldn’t seem to match. Majority of the time he felt like he was bringing her down, his mind constantly somewhere else as she yammered on about what she had done in Florida.

She’d gifted him a sand dollar, saying that it was supposedly for good luck. The other gift had been a stuffed alligator, barely the size of his forearm. She had flushed and stammered over it, saying that she knew that he was too old for stuffed animals but it had made her think of him. He kept it on the corner of his bed, convinced that it smelt of her. 

They were crowded together in her room, their shoulders touching as the heels of their feet rested up high onto the wall. They’d both sprouted this summer, but his legs were still significantly longer than hers. The fan was blowing on high, trying to keep them cool as they shied away from the hot sun that was blazing across her floor. 

“Have you watched porn before?” He asked before he could stop himself, his own eyes widening to the size of hers as she stared in horror as the rest of her skin burned as brightly as her sunburn. She paused her retelling of telling him how the waves varied at different times of the day, blinking slowly like she hadn’t heard him correctly. 

“What kind of question is that?” She gaped at him, her features turning timid as she quickly glanced away from him. She squirmed under his gaze as he tried to read her posture. 

“A question.” He responded bluntly, his heart hammering a little rougher inside of his chest. He didn’t think it was that inappropriate considering she’d taken to rutting her hips against his leg while they practiced kissing with one another. 

“No,” She spit out, her tongue tangling inside of her mouth, “I have not.” She squeaked out, shaking her head rapidly before she cautiously brought her hands up over her face. She shied away, acting like she wanted to melt away from this conversation. 

“Does your dad have weird things in his room?” He asked at last, still unable to decide if the purpose of it being left out had been for Gator to snoop through it, “Like, not hidden away?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he turned towards her, watching the slow way she dropped her hands.

“What do you mean?” She asked curiously, her blue eyes filled with innocence as she looked forward towards him. He grazed his eyes across her features, his throat suddenly dry as he realized she had no idea about anything he was speaking of. Their fathers may be similar, but it was very evident they lived different lives. She was still in a bubble, unaware of what really happened while she was dreaming. 

Now

“Daphne!” Noelle’s voice rang through the room, her fist banging against the door and rousing Gator from his dreamless sleep, “Did you take my pants?” Gator blinked a few times, his right arm feeling a little numb as he brought his left hand up to his eyes to wipe the sleep away. 

“Shit!” Daphne cursed, frantically jumping up away from his chest. She bounced on the floor, looking around quickly for her pajamas as Noelle continued to slam her fist against the door, “Give me a second!” She yelled loudly, her cheeks burning as she tossed her pajamas on her body backwards, shielding herself away from his eyes.

“She’s always a joy.” He mumbled, his voice raspy as he moved to the side of her bed. He pushed his discarded hair from his forehead, trying to will himself to wake up. He jolted, nearly falling backwards in hopes he could sleep for an extra ten minutes. 

“You have to go,” Daphne muttered as she quickly shoved his clothes at him, “Like now.” She fell to her knees, making him take a sharp intake before he realized she was assisting him in pulling his boxers over his ankles. He was still blinking away the fuzzies in his mind when she slipped his shoes onto his feet. She tugged his boxers up to his knees roughly before she was shoving him off the bed, nearly chafing his legs from how hard she was tugging on his clothing. 

“Let me just-,” He tried to stop her as the knocking continued, the doorknob rattling furiously as he tried to stop to put his pants on. She shook her head, pulling the window open quickly as she tugged his hand towards her. 

“Dress outside!” She squealed shrilly as she pulled him towards the opened window, “I have about another five seconds before she breaks the door down.” She whispered towards him, her blue eyes wide as she pressed her hand against his lower back.

He protested, groaning as she held onto his head and forced him out the window. He shifted awkwardly, holding onto the railing as he looked at her curiously. She popped her head out with him, grinning widely as she pressed her lips sweetly against his.

“See you,” She mumbled softly as she pulled away, looking rather giggly as she chewed on her bottom lip, “Thanks for the dinner.” She added a second later before she disappeared inside of her room. He shook his head, his arms beginning to strain from the awkward way he was holding himself up. 

He shuffled down the side of the house, wincing as he did his best to keep his clothes in his arms without dropping them onto the dirt. He banged his knees against the side of the house, groaning before he roughly jumped the rest of the distance.

Small sparks of pain shot up his feet, through the back of his legs as he quickly tried to straighten himself out. He winced, roughly grabbing his dirty shirt and pants. He felt ridiculous in his boxers, certain that he would never hear the end of this if he was caught.

He paused before he headed around the corner of the house, dipping down low enough to stay hidden from the kitchen windows before he rushed out towards the spare shed. August had taken it over a few years ago, turned it into his own little house. Gator knew better than to think that he would even be up at this hour.

He kicked off his shoes, grumbling underneath his breath as he roughly kicked his feet into his pant legs. He nearly tripped, stalling for a second so he could step off of his pant legs and try again. He shook his head, but still bore a grin on his lips. 

“Mornin’,” Gator jumped, his veins turning cold as he paused his movements. His pants fell back down to his feet as he cursed, quickly trying to pull them up as August snickered, “Beautiful day out.” He commented snarkily, his eyebrows raised in mock confusion. 

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Gator stumbled over his own words as he fumbled with his belt nervously, “I was just uh - just stopped over for a suit fitting.” He knitted his eyebrows together, shutting them tightly a second later as he shook his head. August had taken him by surprise, knocking out any good excuse that he may have had. 

“Huh,” August smirked cockily as he pulled his coffee cup up to his lips again, “I didn’t realize you’d be in a suit for the wedding.” He tilted his head a second later, clearly waiting for Gator to dig his hole just a little bit deeper. 

“Right, uh,” Gator pushed his messy strands out of his face, “You know, she just wanted to see how fancy it should be.” He shrugged his shoulders, making a face as if to suggest that it was just a woman thing. He hoped that August would buy the lie. 

“Kinda odd considering you’re not a groomsman,” He responded, clearly getting a kick out of Gator’s misery, “Did she get the right measurement for your dick?” Gator winced, closing his eyes tightly as he finally managed to get his belt looped up. 

“Shit,” Gator groaned, hoping to hide his own embarrassment as he roughly tugged his shirt over his head, “Can you just keep this between us?” He asked, hating how pitiful he sounded as he roughly shoved his shoes back on his feet. 

“It’s none of my business,” August shrugged his shoulders but still bore a shit eating grin, “Oliver will kill you if he finds out.” He responded like it was something to hold over his head. Gator shook his head, not the least bit intimidated by Oliver. 

“He doesn’t scare me,” Gator grumbled underneath his breath. He felt around his pockets for a second, frowning as he realized he must’ve dropped his vape somewhere, “Your dad does.” He admitted, a little worried as to how Bruce would react if he knew about them. 

“I think my dad would thank you,” August said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Fairly certain he’s already planned a few different ways to get rid of Hugh.” He snorted like it was funny, genuinely looking amused as he kicked his legs out and crossed his ankles.

“Yeah,” Gator nodded along, feeling a little nervous as he glanced back to the house, “So uh, this is our little secret then?” He repeated, feeling awkward as he messed with his hair once again. 

“Uh huh,” August smirked up towards him, “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” He replied shortly, holding up his cup of coffee to signal the end of the conversation. Gator paused, not really wanting to get involved in more of his private business before he shook his head. It wasn’t worth getting into. 

He rushed the rest of the way back to his house, feeling like it had taken twice as long as what it had last night. He was hoping he could sneak through the back, quickly pop himself up to his room to change and be out the door for work without anyone noticing. 

“I thought you had the shift this morning?” Gator winced, watching the way Roy stared straight ahead as he leaned against the porch railing. Gator parted his lips slowly, wishing he had a better excuse as he slowly made his way up the steps. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at Roy without the sun blinding him. 

“Overslept,” Gator mumbled truthfully, knowing it wasn’t the first time it had happened, “I’m heading up there now.” He wished he would’ve just gone with his first idea and brought his uniform with him. He could’ve parked far enough away to not be suspicious. He’d been too rushed last night, too worried that she may change her mind to actually prepare for anything. 

“Where were you last night?” Roy looked towards him this time, his hat weighing heavy over his eyes as Gator shifted awkwardly on his feet. He could suddenly recall the first time he’d ever been caught sneaking out. 

“Out,” Gator said slowly, “I had a date.” He replied a second later, knowing that being vague would get him nowhere. Roy seemed to know everything before he even did. 

“You know if you’re not going to stay away from her, you might try a little harder to win her over.” Roy shook his head as he leaned over to spit over the shrubs that Karen had planted. He looked at them curiously for a second, remembering that his mother preferred marigolds. 

“It’s not-,” Gator paused as he rubbed his sweaty palms against his now dirty pants, “We’re just friends. It’s not like that.” He said at last, hoping that he didn’t sound too bitter as he spoke. It was his own fault for allowing Daphne to slip through his grasp. 

“Chasing around a married woman is pathetic.” Roy stated bluntly as he tapped his fingers against the wooden railing before he stood up straight. Gator hesitated, unsure of how he should proceed. He knew it didn’t matter what he said, his father had clearly made up his mind about the subject already. 

“She’s not married, yet,” Gator gulped, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, “We’re just catching up.” He shrugged his shoulders as casually as he could in hopes that Roy would buy it. Gator didn’t even buy his own story. He didn’t view it as catching up, even though he knew that he should. She was getting married. This wouldn’t last long. 

“In her bed?” Roy questioned as he cocked an eyebrow. Gator hated this feeling, hated how Roy just had to give him one look to make him feel like he was beneath him. He didn’t mention that Roy had cheated in the past. 

“We’ve had sleepovers before,” He mumbled underneath his breath, “It’s no big deal.” He felt hot suddenly as the sun dipped against his shoulders, warming his skin through his clothes as Roy scoffed. 

“But whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding: he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul,” Roy spoke the lines like they were engraved in the back of his mind, “Does that sound like no big deal?” He asked him seriously, speaking as if Gator was only up to his knee again. Guilt ate at him again but he knew that no matter how many scriptures Roy threw at him, he’d never be able to give Daphne up. Not even if it meant burning in hell for an eternity. 

Roy hadn’t called him a loser in a while, but Gator knew the word was sitting atop of his tongue as his features wrinkled up in a stern manner. Gator’s ego took another blow settling over him as he nodded his head in agreement. 

“No,” Gator answered softly a second later, “It doesn’t.” 

/////////////////////

Work was long and boring. Which left Gator with more time to think about his dilemma with Daphne. He knew it would be easier to just let her go, to forget that anything had ever happened between them than to wait until he finally grew a pair and confessed how he felt. It was eating him alive. 

“Look,” Maude grinned happily as she turned in her seat to face Gator as soon as he walked through the door, “I made all of us.” She replied brightly, holding up a picture with five messy stick figures. He took it softly, bringing the picture up closely so he could get a good look. 

“Oh neat,” He smiled in return as he looked at the picture, “It looks very nice.” He complimented her, enjoying the way her features wrinkled up into pride before she turned away. He glanced around, noticing that Roy wasn’t downstairs yet. He cocked an eyebrow, a little concerned with the amount of food Karen was cooking. 

“Where’s your mommy at?” Jessica looked at him curiously, completely taking him by surprise as he snapped his eyes down towards her. He paused, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gun as he had no idea how to answer her. 

“Girls,” Karen turned towards them, her lips parted in surprise like she couldn’t believe she’d asked that question, “Don’t pester him.” She spoke harshly, glancing over her shoulder like she was afraid Roy was lingering about. It had nothing to do with upsetting Gator, just upsetting Roy. He thought about brushing her off, about telling her it wasn’t that big of a deal. He couldn’t, his bitter memories of his mother suddenly rushing forward.

“I’m gonna wash up.” He said at last, his throat feeling raw and scratchy as he walked out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs. Somewhere along the way, his glorious night had turned into a bitter morning. 

He stopped in the bathroom first, roughly twisting the shower knob on as he stripped out of his clothes. He pressed two fingers against his hip, tracing over the D that was etched into his skin. It felt like they had got it done a lifetime ago, even if it had been on a dare. 

He scrubbed at himself hard enough in the shower to erase the bitter taste of his mother’s memories, but not hard enough that he would lose the sensation of Daphne on his skin. He still wanted to feel her, to smell her. 

He sat at the edge of his bed once he was done, feeling a little irritated at how wrong his day had gone. He stared at the floor, wondering if he even had the energy to drag himself down the stairs. 

“Well,” Daphne’s voice made his head snap up, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he peered at her, “I personally think you need a few more bikini models. Just to, you know, spruce the room up a bit.” She replied teasingly as she walked inside, her eyes temporarily lingering against the hole in his wall.

She looked great, like she was drifting across sunshine. Her skin was warm, slightly red as her bright blue eyes drifted across his room. She had her hair pulled back with a white scarf, her red bangs dancing across her forehead. Her dress nearly hit her ankles, but had a slit up to her mid thigh to show off some of her skin.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her surprised, not planning on seeing her so soon again. He blinked at her in disbelief, not thinking that it was best for them to be found when he was only dressed in his boxers. 

“You forgot this,” She grinned bashfully as she held up his vape, “I thought I’d be nice and return it.” She responded cheekily, her lips painted a nice red as she gently placed the vape into his palm. 

“Ah,” He chuckled as he took it from her, “Thanks. Did my dad say anything?” He asked a little worriedly. He knew exactly what Roy would think if he saw them together and Daphne looked this dressed up. 

“No, I didn’t see him. It is Sunday dinner, right?” She asked him softly, knitting her eyebrows together as she looked at him curiously. He glanced down to his left, pressing on his phone to confirm that it was indeed that day. 

“Oh shit,” He said in surprise, “I forgot about that.” He breathed out softly, quickly standing so he could find a pair of jeans that weren’t dirty. His whole day felt like it had been thrown off. 

“I don’t think it’s finished yet,” Daphne commented as she looked at his room. She bent over the desk, examining one of his drawings, “How was work?” She asked softly, her voice ringing like soft melodies in his ears. He glanced towards her, enjoying the curve of her back as he wondered if he’d be able to make out the outline of her panties. 

“Nothing exciting.” He replied back slowly, his eyes dragging across her ass as she slowly stood. She tiptoed a little further, delight crossing her features as she glanced down into the cage in front of her. 

You really got a snake?” She looked over in the cage curiously before she turned back to him, “Can I hold him?” She asked excitedly, her lips spreading into a bright grin as he slowly removed one of his shirts from the hanger. He wasn’t too keen on wearing anything but his pajamas, but he knew Roy would have a fit over it. 

“As long as you don’t plan on feeding him to your cat.” He responded gruffly as he slid the shirt over his head. It was nice enough that Roy wouldn’t complain and casual enough that he wouldn’t feel like he was trapped. 

“I’m afraid that snake isn’t on Birdie’s diet,” Daphne teased softly, “Can I?” She asked again, practically bouncing with excitement as she placed her fingers lightly against the warm cage, her eyes brightening as she turned towards him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” He moved closer to her, nearly tripping over his discarded shoes. He cursed underneath his breath, pretending he didn’t hear her soft laugh as he began to remove the top of the cage, “His name is Rex.”

“Rex,” She repeated curiously as he slowly handed her the yellow and orange snake that had quickly tried to wiggle his way around Gator’s fingers, “He has pretty colors.” She observed as she let the snake dance between her fingers.

“Thanks,” He mumbled, feeling his heart beginning to race as he met her eye once again, “He’s pretty cool. The twins are scared of him.” He mused gently, grinning as he recalled how they’d screamed and cried the first time that they had seen him. 

“Oliver doesn’t like snakes either,” Daphne mused as she sat on the edge of his bed, holding Rex up towards her face so she could get a better look, “It’s because of that crick we used to go swimming in, remember?” She questioned him, her eyes filled with memories as she glanced towards him again.

He nodded his head, all too familiar with the incident. August had driven them to a new spot; had promised that it would be better than the one behind their house. It had been partially true, up until the swarm of water snakes had raced passed them and they’d emerged covered in leeches. Gator had them twice as bad as everyone else; his back was covered, his legs, his chest and nestled between his toes. The last one they had removed from his knee had been so thick and plump that it nearly bursted between August’s fingers. 

“Yeah, I remember,” He mumbled, hiding back his own shudder as he thought of how hard he had scrubbed himself down when he returned home. He had his mom check him over as well, more than once, just to be sure, “Does Hugh like snakes?”

“Hm,” She grinned softly as she turned her dazzling eyes up towards him, “Probably not. He couldn’t handle mice, so I doubt it.” She replied gently, grinning as she handed Rex back towards him. He watched for a moment, enjoying how Rex curled up around his thumb and between his fingers before he slid Rex back into his cage. 

By the time he turned around again, she was resting on her knees in front of him. Her lips curled up into a knowing smirk as she moved her hands forward and slowly popped his button open. He was momentarily too stunned, too taken aback as her warm palm slid over the front of his boxers. 

“Missed you,” She mumbled softly, her blue eyes filled with lust as she stared up at him through thick eyelashes, “Sorry about this mornin’.” She replied as she slowly palmed her hand across his hardening cock. He inhaled sharply, his cock throbbing to life underneath her touch.

“S’okay,” He replied as he felt his lips curling into a smirk, “You can make it up to me, like a good little bitch.” His smirk grew at the way she shuddered as he pressed his thumb against her cheek. She leaned in a little, nuzzling herself against his thumb until she puckered her red lips around his skin.

She kissed his digit softly, slowly flicking her tongue across his warm skin as she pulled his boxers down just enough to free his hardening cock. She wrapped one fist around his girth, squeezing softly as she slowly moved her hand up and down the length of him as he pressed his thumb deeper into her mouth.

He groaned softly, enjoying how eager she was as she hollowed her cheeks around his thumb. She sucked softly, bobbing her head in the same motions that she was dragging her hand along the length of his cock. 

He groaned, slowly pulling his thumb away as her spit followed in a messy trail from his rough motions. She looked up at him with darkened eyes, her hand squeezing around his girth as precum began to slide down his pink tip. 

Her pretty red lips wrapped easily around his thick cock, stretching as the length of him disappeared inside of her warm mouth. He groaned at the sensation of her tongue flicking against his warm skin as she slowly pressed him deeper into her mouth.

Her eyebrows knit together, tightening in concentration as she slowly began to build a rhythm around his cock. She pressed her fingertips against his thighs, holding onto him for support as she gagged loudly when his tip hit the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” He cursed, groaning as he pressed his fingertips through the hair that rested against the back of her scalp. Her eyelashes fluttered up towards him, a bead of drool dripping from the corners of her lips as she began to move her head more rapidly on his cock, “Such a good slut.” He praised her, his cock beginning to throb at the thought of someone walking in on them. He wondered if she would stop, or if she would let him finish on her tongue. 

He fisted the back of her hair tightly, squeezing as he began to push her head roughly on his cock. He heaved softly, enjoying how wet and warm her mouth felt wrapped around his girth. Her fingertips dug into his flesh a little harder, gripping onto him tightly as he forced her mouth further down against his cock.

Drool fell forth from her lips, soaking his cock and dripping onto the floor. Her eyes held a hold of him tightly, glazed over as his tip continually slid against the back of her throat. She gagged again, a soft moan falling free from her stretched lips as he snapped his hips forward in bliss.

She hollowed her cheeks around him, sucking him in deeper as she licked her own saliva away from his girth. She moved one hand away, eagerly cupping the base of his cock and beginning to squeeze as she inhaled more of him. He groaned a little louder, feeling a rush of pleasure race up his spine as his cock fell heavy against her tongue.

Her gags became a little louder, drool soaking his cock as he felt his movements becoming more desperate. He groaned, his eyes falling shut as he thrusted his hips forward harshly. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as a whine rolled easily off of his tongue. 

He came harshly, shutting his eyes tightly as he filled her mouth with his warm cum. He panted harshly, his stomach tightening in pleasure as she slowly slid his cock from her mouth. She licked at her lips, gathering his spunk and her drool before she swallowed it all. She looked up at him proudly, her blue eyes filled with delight like she was waiting for his reaction. 

“Messy bitch,” He teased her softly, liking the way she shuddered as he rubbed his thumb across her wet cheek, “You should go clean up.” He said softly, hating that he had to let her go once again. 

“Is it that bad?” She questioned him, grinning as she puckered her lips around his thumb. Her smeared lipstick stuck to his skin, leaving a slight mark as he slowly pulled away. His heart thumped roughly in his chest as he pulled his hands away to adjust himself in his pants again.

“Might be bad for your boy,” He teased her softly, hoping that Hugh could taste his cum on her lips later, “I’ll see you down there.” He responded softly, wondering if she tasted as good as she looked.

He waited a few minutes for her to disappear, pretending to work on his hair as he was sure that she was cleaning herself up. He slightly wished that she’d go down as she was; show everyone who she really belonged to. Not that other asshole. 

Hugh stood a little taller than him, his shoulders a little broader but it was clear that he wasn’t a fighter. He seemed to be too soft, too brittle to ever try anything. Despite knowing that Hugh was a shitty boyfriend, it still made Gator jealous.

Gator hated himself sometimes. He knew that he had more than enough chances to make Daphne his, but he just wasn’t able to fully take that leap. For the most part, his father’s preachings made sense to him. It was the way things were supposed to be but he couldn’t imagine ever striking Daphne. She was too sweet, too kind. He didn’t think it would be right to bruise a face as angelic as hers.

Even now he felt like he was in a trance, in some sort of dream as he watched her from across the room. She was crouched down near Maude, her features contorted into fake awe as she listened to the younger girl ramble on about something. He watched the way her red bangs gently brushed against her forehead, the way her plump lips pulled into an even brighter smile.

He felt a pang suddenly, even though he felt like it was wrong to wish for something that wasn’t able to happen. He didn’t blame Daphne at all, but still wondered what it would’ve been like had she been talking to their daughter instead. She would’ve been about three and he imagined her with thick red hair and Daphne’s matching blue eyes. 

She met his eye, looking up at him curiously as he was still unable to turn away from her. He felt the sickening feeling slowly fading away as his stomach twisted and erupted into butterflies. He felt a warmth traveling up his back and down his legs until he was finally able to turn away from her amused expression. 

“So,” Bruce drew out slowly, still pressing onto Gator’s arm as he pulled him aside, “Have you found anything?” He whispered a little softer, his tone holding a bit of excitement to it. Gator watched him for a moment, thinking about how easily he’d hit Daphne before her engagement party.

“He’s pretty squeaky clean.” Gator responded truthfully as he felt his eyes lingering back towards Daphne. She was standing now, no longer talking to the twins as she faced Oliver instead. He was mumbling about something that must’ve been funny, as her lips curled up and her eyes crinkled in amusement. 

“Damn,” Bruce grumbled, “Figures. All he does is sit around in my house and doodle. I’ll have to pull a few strings then.” He mumbled more to himself, looking frustrated as he rubbed the back of his neck. His statement interested Gator, making him more curious than he should be. 

“Yeah,” Gator rolled his tongue along his teeth, “Doing what exactly?” He asked, shaking his head as he didn’t fully understand. There was only so much he could do and he didn’t think he’d be granted access to wherever the fuck Hugh had rolled in from. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce sighed deeply before he tapped on Gator’s shoulder, “Thanks for the help.” He gave Gator’s shoulder a soft squeeze before he excused himself out of the busy, crowded kitchen. 

He didn’t have a second to think about what he meant before Daphne was strolling over. She looked at him curiously, her hair and makeup back in place like nothing had happened. She looked at him inquisitively, her eyes slightly narrowed. 

“What did he want?” She asked as she approached him. She kicked one of her legs out in front of her and rested both palms on her hips as she stared up at him. He felt his lips twitch in enjoyment, thinking her excuse of a conversation was funny. 

“Nothing important,” Gator replied breezily, not wanting to upset her with how badly her father hated Hugh, “What are you doing?” He asked softly, nodding his chin towards her as she peered at him playfully for another moment. He recognized the look well enough. She’d used it on him a hundred times before when she wanted in on whatever secrets she had been convinced he was hiding. 

“Talking,” She grinned as her previous attitude slid away, “Did you try my veggie pizza? It’s good.” She told him sweetly, her eyes flashing in amusement as she held onto his eye contact. He wondered if she knew the effect on him. He felt like he was in high school again as his face burned and his palms grew sweaty. 

“What are we talking about?” August boosted, the shit eating grin still plastered onto his face as he wrapped his arms around their shoulders and pulled them against him, “Gator and I were talking about how lovely the morning was. Don’t you think it was lovely, Daph?” He asked mockingly, making Gator shut his eyes in frustration as he tried to push him off. 

“It was alright,” She replied as she looked at him curiously, “How come?” She asked, trying to hide the alarm in her eyes as she shot a glance towards Gator. He pulled a stiff smile to his lips, knowing that he had no reassurances to give.

“Nothing,” August replied dumbly, pretending like he wasn’t teasing her, “Did you know he jogs around in his boxers? Right outside your window.” He whispered the last part a little quieter, keeping the secret between the three of them before he started to laugh. Gator fully shoved him off this time, irritated with how immature he was acting.

“Oh,” Daphne’s blue eyes grew large as she stared forward at Gator in disbelief, her cheeks painted a dark red as she quickly gulped, “I see.” She stalled, her face falling a bit as August placed a wet kiss against the side of her cheek.

“It’s okay, baby sister,” August teased as he patted her soft cheek, “This can stay between us.” He told her cheekily, winking before he pushed his way between them. He disappeared towards the living room, feigning interest in the basketball game that was playing.

“You got caught?” She squeaked out softly as she moved her hands over her chest, hugging herself tightly as worry filled her eyes. He watched her for a moment, wondering if it would truly be that big of a deal if they were together. He wished he could shake his memories of her away as he was once again reminded that she didn’t care for him in that manner.

“Someone pushed me out the window without my clothes,” He reminded her, wishing he could find the energy to smile, “S’not that big of a deal. I don’t think he’ll say anything.” He told her honestly, truly knowing that he had too much on August for him to have loose lips. 

“Oh,” She nodded her head slowly as she chewed on her painted lips, looking a little distracted for a moment, “Your birthday is coming up.” She said at last, glancing up towards him with a hint of interest in her eyes.

“It is.” He nodded his head this time, moving in agreement as she seemed to be debating on what she wanted to say next.

“I thought maybe we could go out?” She questioned softly, her eyes widening as she quickly realized how it sounded, “Like all of us. Or just us. Or just us and our friends. You know, whatever you want to do.” She spoke out of panic, nodding her head quickly as her blush traveled down her neck. 

“As friends?” He asked her, feeling a little humored at the way she stumbled over herself. He would’ve never questioned what they were before. Before she left. It was silly, really. He thought that he should be used to people leaving. 

“Best friends.” She said gently, her smile a little shyer as she glanced away from him. The house was loud, filled with raging voices and bustling bodies that slowly seemed to disappear as he inhaled the soft expression on her features. 

“Is your boyfriend going?” He asked her as he blinked slowly, fearing that he may forget the image of her one day. He had a strong urge to reach out and touch her, to feel the way her skin felt underneath his own. 

“Not if you don’t want him to,” She responded timidly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that no one was listening. She played with her hair for a moment before she found the courage to speak again, “I can think of an excuse.” She mumbled at last, shrugging her shoulders like it was no big deal. 

“Alright,” He answered slow, watching the way her features lit up brightly, “it’s a promise.”

[romana-after-dark]

Room’s on Fire: Wildflower

NOT CANON NOT CANON NOT CANON!!!!!

This is a COMMISSION done for my dear @umnitsa based on my fic Room's on Fire. Rooms on Fire is Triple Frontier fanfiction cult au, however this does not have any TF characters in it, nor is it canon to ROF. However, things talked about are, and it is canon compliant and COULD have happened in theory.

Jonah Hanson (Timothy Olyphant) x plus size!reader x Marcus (David Habour

Timeline: In the past in ROF canon timeline, two years before the "uprising". Madonna and Iris arent in this fic but are talked about, Iris is 20 and Madonna is 10.

Summary: Jonah, Reader, and Marcus spend a weekend away.

Warnings and content: PIV sex, anal, anal fingering, m/m dynamics and sex but focus is mostly on reader. Some angst but not between characters, just their circumstances. Blowjobs, fingering, Jonah is scared of bee's tee hee. Mentions of Beatriz's sexual and physical abuse of Jonah and Frankie. General cult wanrings.

6k words

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"You belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea Sail away, kill off the hours You belong somewhere you feel free Run away, find you a lover Go away somewhere all bright and new I have seen no other Who compares with you" ~Wildflower, Tom Petty

The house was ready!

You had been picking wildflowers while waiting for Jonah and Marcus to arrive, freshening up your little cabin in the woods. This was your getaway. Every few months, you, Jonah and Marcus find some time to get away and see each other for a night or two, have fun, make love, and relax. In Delta, they did their best not to be seen together. Friendship and relationships were dangerous, especially for Jonah and Marcus. Marcus was a pretty high up as a guard, just trying to get through the day without harm coming to his daughter.

Jonah was a similar but more precarious role. He was closer to the top, almost at the peak, a consort of Divine Mother, or “that bitch” as you call her. His daughter, Iris, is in the same dormitory as Marcus’s daughter, but she’s ten years older so they don’t know each other. You feel hands on your hips, startlingly you. You turn around and slap the person now in front of you.

“JONAH!” You scold him, but immediately go to touch his face. “You fucking scared me!”

“Oowwww!” He whines, pouting with his pretty lips. “You’re so mean!”

“Oh hush now.” You peck his slightly pink cheek and he smiles. You’ve seen him take way worse. “Maybe don’t scare me next time!” You wander off to set tea on the stove for Marcus, if he comes. Marcus loves tea. When his daughter was little, she loved tea parties and when Marcus was able to see her he always obliged her in pretending to be a princess with her small assortment of toys she was allowed. He grew accustomed to the taste, it always reminded him of her.

Jonah trailed after you, hips swaying before stopping and resting on one foot, leg popped out. You wanted to knock his stupid cowboy hat off his head and smother his face in kisses, but you had a few more things left to do.

You turn to your lover. “Think Marcus will make it?” 

He gives you a sympathetic look. “I dunno, darl’n, he’s try’n but he’s got a lot on his plate..”

You look down stiring the soup. “I know, I know.” You all did your best. Sometimes you couldn’t make it, sometimes Jonah or Marcus couldn’t, it was natural living in a high control environment. Still, you missed them and had hoped for a weekend with both. “Here, let’s eat. I’ll keep it on a simmer in case he comes.”

After diner, you laid on the couch in Jonah’s arms, his long fingers lazily fingering you. He wasn’t necessarily trying to bring you to orgasm, although it was near inevitable with the way he made your body feel. Jonah just liked to feel you. He loved your body, and spent countless hours in these hidden moments just familiarizing himself you every curve, every inch of fat, your smooth skin, the swell of your heavy breasts, and of course, the inside of your cunt. He had a body type that was for sure. Although Jonah certainly was just a lover of love, appreciating men and women of all shapes and sizes, he did gravitate towards big. He was a small man in terms of body type, a thin frame and slutty petite hips, he loved the feeling of weight on him. You and Marcus were happy to oblige. So, sometimes you laid like this, your full body access given to Jonah, your body comforting him and his hands bringing you pleasure by the fireside.

You heard the keys in the door and gasp. “Marcus!!”

Jonah grumbles about having to pull his fingers out of your dripping hole, but you jump up and run to the day.

Marcus opens his arms to you, folding you into his strong grasp. “Hiya, baby.” he kisses your cheek, then kisses Jonah as he approaches.

Jonah kisses him back and gives a warm side hug. “We didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. Fuck he was tall, a good couple inches of Jonah. “I was doing round on the dormitory and Lydia asked if I wanted to see her for a little, and well I just stayed until I had to leave, ended up a few hours.”

If there was ever a reason to be late, it was for your men to see their daughters. Delta split up families young, sending girls to live in dormitories around 12, but Jonah and Marcus had a different position. Jonah’s wife, Jess, died giving birth to Iris and Marcus’s wife, Lana, died of cancer when their daughter they adopted was 8. Marcus’ daughter was moved to a dormitory as soon as the funeral and grieving traditions were done. 

Jonah had all of 6 months with Iris before that bitch Beatriz decided it was “best” if Jonah moved into the mansion with her. She also decided it was “best” that Iris didn’t come with, seeing as she had her young son, Santiago and the boy she had adopted, francisco, there. Too many children, was her reasoning. So Iris grew up largely without a parent. Jonah tried his best to make time for Iris, but Beatriz didn’t allow much, leaving Iris and Jonah’s relationship strained. 

“Oh! Jonah, this is for you.” Marcus reached into his pocket, pulling out something covered in a napkin.

Jonah unwrapped a sugar cookie, looking at it confused. “You got me a cookie?”

Marcus barked a laugh. “No, I ran into Iris with my kid. She was walking back to the common room with some cookies for her friends she made, gave one to my baby and me, then wrapped one up for you.”

You turn to Jonah, still wrapped up in one of Marcus’s arms. He had a happy, small smile on his face, looking fondly at the cookie. Iris was angry a lot, often at him, but she found these little moments, small acts that remind Jonah she does love him, very much.

“C’mon!” You pull Marcus’s hand towards the couch. “Catch us up, how is she?”

But Marcus stayed planted firm where he was. “Aht, aht, aht, you think I didn’t see what you and Jonah were doing just a minute ago.” He yanks you backwards, your back flush against his chest and an arm wrapped around your middle keeping you pressed to him. “Jonah, want you to lift up the little sluts skirt for me, will you?”

Jonah set the cookie down, not wanting to eat it just yet. He wanted to save it just a bit long, a reminder that Iris still loved him, still thought about him. Making his way back to you and Marcus, he admired your bodies and bit his lips in anticipation for whats to come before lifting up your skirt. It was long, flowy, and he slid his hands all the way up to cup your breasts in the process.

Marcus chuckles. “Always so eager, aren’t you, Jonah?” Then slides the tips of his fingers over your slick core. “Hmmm” His voice verberates against your neck. “So are you, it seems.”

You were. You were always eager for them.

*

These men were your reprieve, and you adored each of them for different reasons. It wasn’t like you loved them, you didn’t think you did. You couldn’t, really, not in the situation you were all in. You worked long hours as a doctor, training the next generation as you were one of the few with any medical experience before the world fell apart. Jonah and Marcus were both guard, and their first priorities were their daughters. If somehow they found a way to get them out but it meant leaving you behind, they would and you wanted them to. Their children deserved a life. That’s honestly a reason why you loved them the way you did, as dear friends, as a reprieve. Few things were more attractive than a man who cared for his children.

Marcus was a symbol of strength. Do not let the roundness of him, the soft plush of his body fool you, Marcus could lift grown men in the air, and had no problem manuvering you where he wanted you to be. In fact, he had picked you up and placed you on top of Jonah’s face just now, sinking your body down to his awaiting tongue. Jonah was eager like that. Despite having a 20 year old daughter, Jonah was quite young himself, having had Iris at 19 where as Marcus had adopted his daughter as an infant when he was 40. There was a 10 year age gap between them, but Marcus never let his age slow him down. He had more stamina than men you’d fucked with half his years. 

Marcus fucked Jonah with a vigor you couldn’t believe, slamming into his ass again and again, grunting, using Jonah’s bent knees as leverage and fuck, did Jonah like it. Jonah’s tongue was something of legend, he could eat pussy for days, drowning himself in cum and slick. Maybe that’s why Beatriz latched on to him so much, that and his handsome face. And his hot fucking bod. And his beautiful cheeky smile-

“FUCK!” You scream, on the verge of cumming on Jonah’s face already, but you wanted to wait, you wanted to cum at the same time as Jonah.

“That’s right, baby” Marcus grunts as he slaps into Jonah, encouraging you. You loved when he called you baby. Pet names like were a rarity here, and when this all started they said they didn’t want to use them because they might slip and say it in the real world, but that soon went out the window. You were Jonah’s darl’n and Marcus’s baby. “Cum on his pretty face, can you do that for me? Be my pretty girl and let me watch you cum?”

You’re a panting, sweaty mess, two hands planted on Jonah firm, strong chest as you ride him. “Wanna see him cum first, please? CanI touch him?” Jonah’s cock twitched at the prospect. You honestly had no idea how he heard anything between your thighs, but he was something else. 

Marcus smiled at that. “Suck his cock, baby doll.”

You return the smile, walking yourself down your lover's body to bring yourself down to his throbbing hard, neglected dick and quickly take him into your mouth. Despite the sizable length, you’ve had enough practice and it goes down fairly easily, but Marcus still slows his thrust in order to not inadvertently knock him into your mouth. Jonah’s dick was fucking beautiful, long and veining and uncut, just fucking stellar to look at. It always made you drool and you took any chance you had to suck it. You and Jonah had more opportunities to steal away. You were the family doctor, Beatriz bringing you in whenever her little brat of a child had a sniffle. 

Recently, you’d been in charge of training Will in medicine, honing in his supposed “medicinal gifts” which was a loud of complete shit, but whatever. In exchange you were allowed a little more freedom, which was how you were able to take these getaways. Some days, Will would end things early, he had some pretty blonde girl he was seeing on the down low, so you liked to sneak away and find Jonah.

Jonah tasted delicious, and mixed with the musky scent of Marcus, the slap, slap, slap of their bodies together, and the way Jonah devoured your pussy between loud moans, you could hardly contain yourself. With the knew angle of you bent over, Jonah had taken the opportunity to feel up your buttcheeks, lightly smacking them just to watch and feel them jiggle. He always was an ass man. As you slobbered on his dick, letting yourself gag and drool so your saliva dripped down his balls and lubricated Marcus’s dick.

Jonah’s hands spread over your ass, and his thumb slid into your tight little hole, causing you to sigh in content and sink down further on his member. 

Marcus chuckled above you. “Jonah finger fucking that gorgeous ass of yours?” You whimper in affirmative, and he laughs again, muttering- “fuck’n predictable.”

Tongue deep inside your cunt, your asshole with his finger inside and Jonah’s cock stuffing your mouth. Everything was Jonah, Jonah, Jonah… until-

Hand grip your hair, forcing you to look up at him through your lashes as you sucked another man off.

“You’re gonna look me in the eyes while I blow my load into your little boy toy.” Marcus growls, and you nod. Marcus loved eye contact. He liked being seen. Jonah liked being used. 

Marcus was stunning above you, sweat beads trickling down his hair body, massive and imposing and absolutely fucking beautiful. He was commanding and powerful, the kind of man who made you wanna get your shit together. But he could also be gentle and kind. He made a good dad.

Filled to the fucking brim, you cum all over Jonah’s face and although he explodes in your mouth, never for a moment does he stop his ministrations on your body, drawing out your pleasure as he laps up your mess. Marcus does not cum quietly, but with a roar, the sounds of his orgasm echo in the rooms while you ride out the last of your climax on Jonah’s face.

*

Jonah always fell asleep right after sex. He didn’t get to sleep much between his duties as head of the guard and everything Beatriz needed of him. He’d been carrying so much of their world on his shoulders since he was only 19. That’s too much for someone with teen still in his name. At 39, his body ached like someone of double his years and he took sleep where he could get it. Sometimes he woke up to nightmares, but they were less when you or Marcus were in the bed. His body knew yours by the feel and felt safe. Usually, you liked to fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him to protect him from all his bad thoughts, but after Jonah was knocked out (Before Marcus even picked your exhausted body up off him.) You opted to cuddle with Marcus as long as Jonah slept peacefully. 

Your bodies were naked, a little bit cold so he pulled a blanket over the three of you. It’d been an hour of just talking and laughing, trying to keep quiet to not wake your sleepy lover. Marcus talked of his daughter with a twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen them together a few times, mostly when she wasn’t feeling well and Marcus was able to take her to you. The dormitories had a lower standard of calling on a doctor, but Marcus was frequently worried. Watching your wife die of cancer can make you paranoid, so you were happy to indulge him and check on the girl. She did get sick a little more than the average child, seemed like a weaker immune system but nothing of note. 

“She really likes painting. I mean, she’s always loved art but she’s really taken to painting. Good at it too.”

Delta required lots of hard work to keep running, to keep its people fed, there wasn’t a whole lot of down time. His daughter at only 10 was taking on chores and work already. Still, members were encouraged in a hobby, Decon Davis thought it was important to have an outlet. Marcus’s daughter was showing promise, and although there weren’t careers in art and she’d still have to do manual labor, it was good to know she had something creative to look forward to.

“What does she like to paint?”

“Nature, mostly. Pretty things. I mean, she’s ten.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad that despite everything, she’s happy. She says she likes to paint her dreams, so… yuh know, it’s nice to see she dreams of sunshine and flowers. She’s been learning portraits but uh…” Marcus laughs again, and you bounce with his belly. “It’s not so good yet. She’s do great! I’m sure! Just right now they look kinda funny.”

You could imagine. You loved hearing them talk about their kids, but Marcus was more open than Jonah. Honestly, you knew Iris better than Jonah sometimes. Iris had been picked for her leadership abilities and was being brought up for a future role as a house mother. Some thought it was because her dad was “sleeping with” The Divine Mother, and that may have had a part in it. Jonah was not above using his position to get his daughter out of physical danger and back breaking work, but honestly she had a natural skill. You’d worked with her on the medical portions, teaching her first aid and far beyond and she picked it out quickly. She was very intelligent, strong willed but not arrogant or prideful, and despite a tough exterior she cared deeply for people. She’d be good as a house mother, making this life bearable for the children of a cult.

“C’mere.” Marcus mutters, pulling you up on top of his belly and only then do you notice he’s half-hard again. You grind yourself down on him, feeling him harden because of you, and kiss him.

“My handsome man…” You mutter, prodding at his mouth with your tongue and he does not hesitate to let you in. He’s fucking delicious, tasting of cookies and cigars even after all the time. 

Marcus notches himself at your entrance. “You want it hard, or slow?” He’s asking for permission. No one’d been inside you yet except for Jonah’s fingers a few hours ago, and Jonah was more on the long side than he was thick. Marcus didn’t want to hurt you in any way you didn’t like but both you sometimes enjoyed the burn of him tearing you up. It was up to you.

“Hard”

Marcus kissed you, encasing your mouth in his to swallow your screams as he thrust into you, splitting you open on his fat cock. You were wet, he slid in easy and filled you up to the fucking brim. Jonah’s cock was longer but Marcus’s was fatter, stretching you out so fully for a moment you’re blinded, his dick resting deep inside you. He can feel you pulsing, your sweet, tight little hole just sucking him right up. He begins to thrust slowly, lazily,  enjoying how your cries settled into whimpers. Fuck, he loved being inside you. He respite, his safe haven. With you and Jonah, here in the cabin, he could relax.

It wasn’t always enough, sometimes he couldn’t shake worry for him daughter, the sweet little girl he was supposed to protect. How could he protect her when she wasn’t even allowed to live with him? That’s why he liked Jonah. Jonah got it, he understood the position this cult put fathers and mothers in. Keep their children locked away, they’ll never leave. Jonah and Marcus would never leave without their girls. There’d be no point in life without them.

But days like today, he could forget. Not forget her, never. She was always there, lingering… but he could have some peace. He could come here, fuck Jonah and their woman, make sweet, sweet love and have some reprieve from the vile world they lived in. 

Marcus pulls back from her, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth gently. “Gotta be quite. Can’t have you waking Jonah up.” He teases you with a particularly deep thrust, hitting that spot inside you he knew made you scream.

“Well maybe if you -oh fuck!- didn’t have such a fat cock I could -shitshitshit- keep QUIET! Ah!”

Marcus slapped a hand over your mouth, glancing to where Jonah slept. He still seemed peaceful. He turned back to you. “You’re gonna cum, and you’re gonna cum quietly or else I’ll have to punish you.”

As enticing as that was, you wanted Jonah to sleep, so you tucked your face into Marcus’s plush shoulder, ready to bit if needed. He pulled out of you slow, then thrust back in hard and quick, repeating this process over and over until your pussy clenches down on his hard, pulsing and cumming and soaking him and you muffle your cries into his skin. 

“Off.” 

You slid off him, and as he reaches to jerk himself off, you bring your mouth to him. Marcus cums inside your mouth, thick ropes you wished you could feel inside your cunt. Tasting him was second best.

As you settle at his side again, ready to take a nap, you hear Jonah.

“Jesus Christ you guys are loud.”

*

You were outside picking flowers with Jonah while Marcus cooked breakfast. Well, closer to lunch honestly. The three of you had spent all evening, night, and morning waking up, fucking one or both of each other, then going back to sleep. It was messy, waking up in sweats and haze and heat, sometimes entangled in bodies, sometimes lips were on your cunt or Jonah’s eyes flickered awake with your hand wrapped around him. You all were very aware of each others boundaries and dislikes, so no one had an issues getting a head start on things while one was a sleep. It wasn’t unheard of to wake up cumming.

The sun was bright out and the wildflowers in perfect peak, bumble bees dancing around you. You had told Jonah to stay still, watching a bee hover around him. It landed on his cheek, making him freak out and scream a little. When Marcus rushed out to see what the screaming was, he found Jonah waving his arms around shouting and you on the grass giggling. Marcus threw a spatula at him. 

Tomorrow, you all headed back, and Jonah wanted to stop by and see Iris. He’d have to leave a little earlier than you and Marcus, but that was okay. Jonah picked flowers to bring to her. He wanted more than anything to grow Iris’s for her, but he had to prioritize trades for useful plants and seeds. One day he’d find them, one day a tradesman would happen to have the flower’s seeds and he’d learn how to grow them for her. For now, however, he’d bring her wildflowers. Depending on her mood, she may not want to see him, but if she sent Marcus with a cookie (which was fantastic, by the way) he’d try to bring her something nice. Jonah had used his position to leverage things for Iris on occasion, but usually to other people. He liked to make Beatriz think Iris didn’t matter to him, that Beatriz was the most important thing in his life. He wanted her to think that Santiago and Francisco were what he considered his children, that his own daughter was an afterthought. Nothing could be further from the truth, but it was safer for her that way.

“Jonah look! Daffodils!” You call him over. Daffodils were harder to find, not wild flowers but not necessarily rare. Still, not something Iris would likely find on Delta grounds. She loved daffodils. 

*

Marcus’s cock always stretched your mouth so fucking wide, you knew you looked rediculos trying to take it all, but Marcus liked how messy you looked. On you hands and knees you suck him off, Jonah railing you from behind, smacking your ass again and again, but never hard enough for discomfort. Just a little reminder to leave you for tomorrow of who you belonged to. 

Jonah loved you face down, ass up like this. “Fucking love your ass, darl’n” Jonah grunts, squeezing the fatty flesh, making you hum around Marcus’s throbbing, red dick. 

Marcus huffs. “Yeah, I think she can tell. You’ve had your mouth up in there half the weekend.”

“Not my fault she tastes so damn good.” He shrugs.

Your jaw a little achy, you pull off Marcus and stroke him, breathless. “You guys really can’t stop talking, can you?”

“Nope. Now, take a break and suck his balls, beautiful, doing so good.”

Keening at the praise, you do as you’re told and go down to his balls. They are too big to fit both inside at once, so you focus on one and then the other, all while stroking his thick length. Jonah was hitting deep, making you whimper and gasp as he hit that spot. A strangled moan escapes your lips when he gets closer to his release, kissing your womb and god, you couldn't wait for him to flood your insides. With Jonah, there was no worry of pregnancy, so you could get completely filled by him.

“Messy, messy girl…” Marcus praises, running his fingers through your hair, careful not to pull at any knots. 

“She’s about ready to cum again, can you believe it Marc? She’s so fuck’n easy.”

You go back to swallowing Marcus’s cock.

“Just a pathetic little thing, isn’t she? Gotta have her holes filled all the time. Gotta take care of everything out there, so she needs to be taken care of here.”

Jonah tsks. “Well, guess we’ll just have to take care of her, huh? Think we can -ohfuckimgonnacum- think we can do that?”

“Oh yeah, we can do that. Jonah, I want you to fill her up, okay? Then I think you should clean her up. It’s only right.” 

“Oh yeah, it’s only right. Fuck, cumming right inside you, darl’n you feel that? You feel me in your womb?”

You did, oh god you did. He was hot inside you, whimpering noises as he came, the pride at bringing him such pleasure making your heart sore. He deserved to feel good. But Jonah was not one to leave you wanting.

Pulling out, he helps angle you down without choking on dick, more on your stomach while you sucked of his comrade. Jonah then gets on sniper position, licking his dripping cum out of you. His tongue wonders, getting anywhere from your clit to plunging into your asshole, leaving his face a wet slobbering mess as you came on him three times before Marcus filled your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow yet.” Marcus orders. “Give Jonah a kiss.”

And you did. You kissed until Marcus’s cum from your mouth mixed with yours and Jonah’s cum from his mouth, until the three of you were one.

*

It was the late evening, Marcus added one more log into the fire, then settled back on the couch next to Jonah, both you and him laying on the younger man’s shoulders.

“This is nice.” You tell them, snuggling up to Jonah. Marcus’s arm wrapped around the back of the couch behind Jonah to scratch your head as you relaxed. It was so warm, you felt so safe… everything was so… good.

When you fell asleep on Jonah’s shoulder, the men let you rest for a while, getting your sleep before nudging you awake. “C’mon, darl’n let's get you to bed.”

You wrap an arm around both men and they help guide your exhausted body to bed, settling in on either side of you.

“Need you…” you muttered to them as Jonah kissed you goodnight, and he chuckled. 

“Need me that bad can’t wait until morn’n?”

You shake your head sleepily. “Need a goodnight orgasm.” Which made him chuckle. 

“Marcus, wanna take care of our girl while I kiss her pretty little mouth.”

Marcus was happy to oblige. He slide off your pj pants, exposing your wet and needy little pussy to him, sliding his rough fingers up and down the slick folds. You whimper, need rising in your body just Jonah kisses your unspoken words away. “Hush now, go to sleep. Trust us, we’ll take care of you… always will. Now close your eyes.” Marcus slides a  fat finger inside you, and you sigh, closing your eyes and relaxing.

“Atta girl” The older man praises you, caressing your thigh as you open up to him more. He feels so fucking good on his own, but the feeling of Jonah kissing your neck and gently caressing your breasts is working you up faster. Many hands make for light work. Marcus fucked his fingers into you, your sleep body thrumming inside. You’d fall asleep if you were so close to cumming. “Gett’n nice tight, Jonah, don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

Jonah was lost in the sauce, licking and sucking and nibbling all over every inch of skin he could find on you. It was then you noticed him humping the bed. This was no longer about your pleasure, although he certainly was giving it, but it was about him about ready to cum in his pants with his mouth suckling on your tit. Fuck, he felt so goddamn good, three of Marcus’s fingers plunged inside you, stretching you, curling in to reach juuuuust right, and Jonah worshipping every inch.

When you cum, it isn’t earth shattering, you down see stars or scream or break headboards. Instead, you hold your breath for a moment, feeling them, savoring them as you cum on Marcus. Then, you let go of the breath, sighing and falling into sleep.

Jonah cums in his pants next to you, sucking a hickey into your skin as he groans into you. For all his complaining earlier, he can’t stay quiet either. Marcus pulls out his hard cock, jerking himself over your sleeping body, large and imposing, until he comes all over your naked and dripping pussy.

Both your boys clean you up and tuck you in. No matter how much they wanted to fuck you, they let you sleep. You deserved it.

*

The morning was bittersweet.

You enjoyed cooking for you men, filling up their tummies. Despite living in the big house, Jonah didn’t eat enough. You figured it was his anxiety. Marcus certainly ate. You loved watching him devour your food the way he devoured you, so you always made a nice big breakfast on your last mornings just to hear him hum and say “gyatDAMN baby! Good as hell.”

Jonah was quieter eating, but always had his signature smile on his face. You liked seeing his smile. You liked that no matter what he’d been through, the world couldn’t knock it off him. A new guard you’d just done an exam on reminded you a lot of him. Something Saha? You couldn’t remember, but he was a smiley lad too. Jonah never failed to make you laugh, to make you feel pretty and nice and sweet and like you didn’t like every single day of your life at risk.

Marcus was more stoic, aged and refined, the picture of safety, community, fatherhood, responsibility. He made you feel incredibly safe, like nothing could get to you, no matter the things you were planning, the people you were working with, the changes you were trying to make happen that you couldn’t talk to them about… They had there secrets, you had yours, but these weekends away they made life bearable, and you hope you did the same for them.

“Morn’m darl’n” Jonah came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you neck. “Smells good like always, thank you.”

“How long do you have?”

He sighs, “Maybe half an hour. Beatriz wants me back for some bullshit ceremony for rain with Ben.”

“Is that code for she fucks him too?” You immediately regret it. Jonah didn’t like talking about what happened between him and Beatriz or this recent between Beatriz and Francisco. Francisco was the same age Jonah was when the abuse started for him. He liked Francisco a whole lot more than he did Santiago, although you suspected Jonah still had a soft spot for the boy. 

He kissed your neck. “It’s okay honey. Why don’t you turn off that stove so I can get all up in your guts and show you how thankful I am for breakfast.”

He always managed to make you laugh, rolling your eyes. “And they say romance is dead.” but you do turn off the stove, because this is the last you’ll get of him for a while. 

Jonah bends you over the counter, nearly ripping your pants down with the force of his motions and begins to finger you open, two fingers in your pussy and a thumb in your asshole, bringing you to a whimpering mess before the pans cooled. When he thrust his cock into you, all your sadness of the end of the trip came to a head. It was desperate thrusts, fucking into you and holding you tight, never pulling far away from you body. He needed you, he needed to fuck someone who loved him, who cared about him, who treated him as more than a toy to use and show off. It wasn’t love, but christ it was friendship, it was caring and affection. There were times he thought he loved Beatriz, times he thought maybe she really did love him… Then he’d see the burn marks on his chest from cigarettes and he’d remember who he was to her. Disposable. 

He wasn’t disposable to you.

He wasn’t disposable to Marcus.

And despite their complex relationship, he wasn’t disposable to Iris. This was what happened. You three were who mattered. 

He filled you, again and again and again and when he tucked his face into your neck, you swear he felt wet, but you didn’t dare say a thing about it. His kisses were a tender contrast to the harsh, sloppy, needy thrusts of his hips. His arm slips down, rubbing your clit, and Jonah whispers in your ear, soft and loving. “Come for me, please.”

All it takes is a few more minutes, cumming on his cock with choked moans shutting and collapsing onto the granite. But Jonah wasn’t done with you yet. He pulls two more climaxes out of you feral and grunting, hands wandering over every inch of you, needing to memorize whatever he could of your softness.

“Jonah?” You whisper, face and upper body pressed into the hard surface. Jonah stops, cock buried deep inside you.

His voice is strained. “Shit, sorry, am I hurting you?” He softens, letting his body weight off of you.

“No, no, sweetheart…” But he separates from you. You turn around, grabbing him and pulling you right up next to your body again. “Don’t go… I like how you feel….” Soft, the kind of touch he’s not used to, you kiss his pretty lips. Jonah helps you hop up onto the counter and there he re-enters you. It’s less rough but just as desperate, sweaty bodies clinging to each other, your hands pawing at his back, careful not to scratch, careful not hurt him. Jonah liked when you scratched down his back, but you knew he needed something else right now. He needed soft.

Jonah came inside you, gentle kisses on your neck, chest, lips with sweet kisses.

*

It’s hard watching him leave. It always is. Jonah mounts his horse,  french toast in his bag for a snack on the way back and a bouquet of wildflowers and daffodils for Iris tied to the sattle. You give him a wave, and realize how, even though Jonah made you feel safe, he didn’t feel safe in his own life. You wanted to protect him as well. You would. Jonah was too close to the top to tell him what was happening, but you and Marcus were working on something with other members. Something that would change things. Something that would help fix this world and make a better life you, Marcus, Jonah, and their daughters. 

Jonah rides off with a smile, and Marcus wraps his arms around you in a bear hug. 

“He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out.”

You sigh. “I know. I just worry.”

“I know.” Marcus kisses into your hair, squeezing you tightly. “I know you do. C’mon now, you and I got another few hours before we should head out. Let’s say we make good use of it.”

Marcus lifts you off your feet to spin you around, making you laugh again.

The laugh echoed down to Jonah as he road away.

**************

Again. NOT CANON. When we get more info on marcus and the past, mrcus and jonah have sexual and romantic tension but in my head they dont fuck. thats up to you. Howver, things like Beatriz physically harming Jonah, Iris training to be a house mother (hence why she knows medical, cooking, sewing, cleaning all that stuff so much) are all true.

Thank you May for this commission!!!! I love yooouuu!!!