#slightly off kilter of course

[loucifersbitch]

AU where Buck and Tommy didn’t know each other well, but they road tripped to the big city together, talking about anything and everything on the way there. And maybe there’s something there, but when they arrive in LA, they go their separate ways, try not to think about it. After losing contact for a few years, they run into each other again. And they keep running into each other. And eventually they exchange contact info, texting and calling, hanging out, going to dinner. They bicker and they drive each other crazy, but they’re friends. They can’t stay away. Something keeps pulling them together. One or both of them is always in a relationship, and they don’t talk about it. Marriage, divorce, and everything in between, they are friends. 

Until one day Tommy realizes oh, it’s you. And that doesn’t go over well because they’re friends! They’ve always been friends. They’ve never been more than friends.

So they don’t talk. They don’t see each other or contact each other. They learn things here and there from their mutual friends, but they can’t talk to each other directly. And Buck wonders what if? He thinks maybe. But he can’t -

Then on New Year's Eve, Buck is at a party. He’s miserable and thinking about leaving, but then Tommy’s there. He’s there, he showed up. 

And Tommy “romcom lover” Kinard hits him with: “I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your cologne on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Buck kisses him because yeah. Yeah, that’s it. He wants the rest of his life to start right now. Without a doubt, he knows he wants this for the rest of his life.

[elainemorisi]

I definitely need a bigger sample size, but I think it's maybe time to become deeply unfashionably a Western Person the way you all are Horror People

[imwritingthefout]

A mask of my own face

I love this photo it’s so silly :>

Summary:

reader is worried about ford and his recent... outbursts. they decide to check on him, but find him at the wrong time, or rather, they don't find him, but someone else in his body.

basically: reader gets fucked by bill cipher in ford's body and kinda likes it.

(the title is the song by lemon demon bc it fits)

Warnings: non con elements/ dubious consent, rough smut, p in v sex, some fluff at the end, a little angst but it’s fine in the end

also crossposted on ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was acting… different. More distant than usual, more…. Off-putting.

He always had a sort of off-kiltered charm in the way he interacted with you, always flipping between being overly confident in himself, and tripping over his own words at the sight of you. Like something in his brain didn’t compute that you were together, that you were his. You got used to this after a few months of dating the researcher, and it evened out for a bit… but now it seems he’s reverted back to his old ways, from before you started dating.

One second he would be holding you tight, saying how much he loved you and wanted you by his side for the rest of his life, but then the next he would push you away to go ‘meditate’ in his lab. He would stay there for hours, only coming up for more coffee. (and strangely enough, to shove forks into his hands when he thought you weren’t looking)

You decided that enough was enough when one evening you realised you hadn't seen him all day. He must've gotten up before you to go to his lab, and hadn’t come up since then.

You went on a search for him all around the house, hoping he wasn't in that god-forsaken lab, but it seems god wasn’t on your side.

When you found him, you saw him sitting hunched over at his desk, writing something down aggressively. You tried to gently touch his shoulder, but the movement caused him to jump so high up from his chair he almost hit the ceiling. You, of course, were startled by the sudden movement and took a step back from him.

He slowly turned to you and his face…. His eyes…. Something about them was wrong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep on his part or your worrying, but you could swear his eyes looked… off. They were slightly different than you remembered, but you decided to brush it off for the time being, more focused on talking some sense into your boyfriend.

“Hey ford? Can i… talk to you?” you said gently, trying not to frighten him again. He shook his head a bit, as if trying to shake off some grub from his face and turned to you with an annoyed look. “Not now, honey . Can’t you see I'm working?” He said the pet name with a mocking voice, as if he was making fun of you for thinking you’re more important than his work.

“I know you are, but you're starting to worry me… when was the last time you ate? Or drank water? Or even went to the bathroom?” you tried to push back the uncomfortable feeling threatening to overtake your words, your voice slightly shaking when you asked him the questions. 

“It doesn’t matter . All that matters is finishing this page” and with that he went back to his desk, sitting down and ignoring you as if you didn’t exist.

Now you were starting to get angry. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Your health is important! If you don't take care of yourself then you won’t live to see your progress come to fruition!” you put your hand on his shoulder again, more firmly this time. “I made you dinner. Now you’re going to come with me, eat dinner, drink some water and go to sleep. Do you understand?” you turned him around in his chair to look at you. He seemed to flip through several emotions before deciding on one. You didn't quite know what it was, but he was smiling, so you thought he might have finally come to his senses and decided to take a break.

You were only half right.

“You know what? You’re right, toots. I'll take a break, but only if i can take you too” he brought you onto his lap in one swift, strong motion and put his lips against your neck. The sudden movement made a chill run up your spine. You didn’t know if you were more turned on or worried, but ultimately decided that maybe this’ll help ground him and bring the ford you loved back.

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him passionately. It took a moment for him to register what was happening until he kissed you back, hungrily kissing you and suddenly biting at your tongue. It wasn’t something you were used to, and it definitely surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

You pulled away a little and he went back to attacking your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving various marks that made your breath hitch. His calloused hands started exploring your body as if it was his first time, awkwardly angling his fingers to touch every part of you from your ankles to your shoulders, and finally down to your breasts.

“God you’re mine now, aren’t you?” The question confused you, since you’ve been dating for a while now, but you decided to go along with it. Maybe it was a new kink of his “yes i’m all yours” you punctuate your point by gently scraping your nails down his chest and onto the waistband of his pants. He groaned at the feeling of your nails on him, his chest puffing up to meet your touch. You chuckle at his desperation. “So needy… you’ve missed me, haven't you?” you tease him lightly, but it didn’t affect him like it usually does. Instead he seems… unfazed “sure i have” he then picks you up and moves you so you’re lying chest down on his desk, and he’s behind you, pushing your middle down so your ass is up in the air for him.

He stands up and you can hear him opening his belt buckle behind you. He seems to be struggling, so you try to turn to him and help him, but he only pushes you down more. “Stupid.. Human… clothes… ugh” you hear him mumbling, but you can’t say anything when you suddenly feel his cold hands under your shirt, feeling you up. You moan under his touch, then hiss as he pinches your waist in an unpleasant way. 

“Hey-ah!” you try to scold him, but are interrupted by the feeling of cold air hitting your sensitive area. Ford has pulled down your pants and underwear, and is now angleing himself behind you. You moan as you feel him push himself against you, his chest flat against your back. It takes him a second to push himself inside you, but when he does, he fills you up immediately. 

You groan at the sharp pain mixed with the pleasure of having him inside you after so long without him. Before you register what's happening, he starts thrusting into you wildly, with no rhythm or consistency. You try your best not to moan, but it's hard when you feel him pushing into you in such a harsh way. 

He holds your hips firmly, trying to stop your squirming. “Come on- ah~ do the thing” you hear him grunting behind you. It feels so good, but the statement still confuses you through the fog of pleasure. What does he mean by ‘the thing’? Your train of thought is stopped when his hand travels to your throat, choking you a little. The sudden feeling of lightheadedness makes you even hornier. This doesn’t feel like something ford would do, but damn it turns you on.

His thrusts start to even out, he doesn't slow down but now they have more of a rhythm. With each one the desk starts to creak under you. It’s straight up animalistic the way he pounds into you, holding onto you like you’re his toy, only used for his pleasure. You feel him twitching inside you, getting close to his release. You clench around him the way you know he likes, and suddenly he cums inside of you. You feel the pleasure inside you come to a peak as he continues to thrust at the same pace, even though he just came. 

The pleasure quickly turns into overstimulation as he continues at his rough pace, not letting you go until he finishes inside you again. Your moans turn into screams as you can't even form a coherent thought. At this point you almost reach a second orgasm, but when he suddenly pulls out at you, you’re forced to come down from your high. You whine at the loss and turn around to see him with his hands up in shock, looking down at you guiltily. 

“What's wrong ford?” you look up at him with lustful eyes, wanting him to continue. 

“I.. uh- nothing is wrong! I'm sorry!” What is he apologising for? “It’s alright, but can you please continue?” now you were frustrated, hoping he would get the hint and continue fucking you. 

“Ye-yeah sure.. Of curse” he gently put his hands on your hips, almost hesitating before feeling you up. He gently runs his hand down your stomach and lands on your thigh, stabilising you before slowly entering you. You moan at the sudden change in him. “What has gotten into you- ah!” you moan as he softly circles your clit with his fingers while he starts thrusting into you. You put your hands around his neck and he buries his head in your chest. You hear him mumbling something but you can’t understand it. 

He starts pushing in and out of you gently, and the stark contrast from just a second ago makes you confused. What is with him today? You try to dwell on it, but when he starts kissing your chest, fondling your breast with his mouth, your thought process is cut short. 

Thanks to his expert fingers on your clit and his even thrusting, you go over the edge. You moan his name as you pull him up to kiss him. It all feels like too much as he stops moving, focusing on kissing you. He pulls out shortly after, taking his time now.

“Does this mean you’re gonna take a break? I think dinner is getting cold” you say softly, kissing his cheek.

“What? Oh yeah- yeah- of course honey” when he says the pet name this time, it feels genuine, like it just rolls off his tongue naturally. You look at him, and find his familiar eyes looking back into yours- slightly confused but loving and caring. This is your ford. The one you fell in love with.

You try to pull yourself off the desk but your legs start wobbling, so ford takes you by the waist and guides you up the stairs. “I’m sorry” he apologises once again, but you reach up to stroke his cheek “it’s alright, i kind of… liked it”

You see a flicker of something dangerous in his eye before it switches to looking terrified, then concerned. “Well.. I'm glad you liked it, but I don't know what came over me. I’m still sorry if i hurt you, my dear” you thought he might be hiding something from you, but that was a discussion for another day. For now, you got your old ford back, and that’s all that matters.

“It’s.. alright. Just give me a warning next time. Jeez” you laugh a little, and you see he starts to relax against you. 

“Yeah.. i’ll try” he seems to be lost in thought, but as you enter the kitchen and he sees the dinner you made him, he suddenly loses his train of thought and looks at you like you just brought him the moon. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much! I'm starving!” he picks you up and kisses you, slightly wincing as he feels his muscles tense up after not being in use for who knows how long. He lets go of you and you both go to eat. You’ll have to talk to him sometime soon about your worries, but you stop yourself when you see the look he gives you; full of love and adoration, like you’re the sun to his earth. You decide to confront him another day. You wouldn’t want to ruin a perfect dinner, would you?

[heliads]

Something More

Based on this request: "a jealous four. reader isnt oblivious and sees the way four looks and acts with her but she gets tired of him taking long to shoot his shot so she starts flirting with another dude to make him jealous"

request sourced freshly from wattpad

masterlist

Something in this room is driving you mad. You can feel the weight of it pinned directly between your shoulder blades like a knife, following you relentlessly no matter where you go. You can pace back and forth across the training room, you can traverse the whole of the Dauntless complex, but you still know it’s there, he’s there. Watching. Waiting. 

Four. 

It is not an aggressive stare, this, it does not make you afraid, far from it. Four is not a threat to you, nor, you think, he will ever be. He is simply looking, simply observing, but for some reason that act has the power to completely throw you off kilter. 

Maybe it’s because he is only ever looking at you like this. Yes, that must be it. Four is an instructor, he has the responsibility to watch everyone here to keep them from harming themselves or others, but something is different when he’s around you. Instead of passively observing, he’s well and truly looking at you, like he likes what he sees and wants to see more, too. 

You try to put it out of your mind. Four is not your concern here, or not so anything more than the fact that he’s one of your initiation instructors and you’re trying not to get dropped before you enter the faction properly. It’s not Four’s fault if you get distracted by his attention. It’s not Four’s fault if it only ever leaves you wanting something more. 

As time goes on, though, and that something more never comes, you start to chafe against the constant pressure of his attention even more than before. He treats you differently than the other initiates, but only slightly, only ever enough to make you dream of the possibility of something changing down the line. He’ll never give you more than the time of day, but from the way he won’t ever stop his constant affiliation with you, you can’t escape the idea that maybe, just maybe, he wants that something more just as much as you do. 

The end of Phase One of Dauntless initiation draws ever closer, and Four fails to act on anything he may or may not be feeling. You could be wrong, of course, he could mean nothing by his ever present attention, but you’re not willing to take the risk of letting a small something fade away and be forgotten once initiation is over. 

If Four will not do something, well, then, the burden of acting on these impulses falls to you. Tricking an initiation leader into revealing his hand won’t be the easiest task in the world, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. Four should know that, seeing as he’s so inclined to marking your every action. He should know that you would provoke him like this, and he should have seen it coming from quite far off indeed. 

You need one more person in your scheme to get under Four’s skin. You find your target with ease— Thomas, a dark haired boy also in your initiation class,  close enough to your rank that you won’t have to worry about keeping him close but just enough below that you’ll be able to drop him without needing to fear retaliation. Thomas is fast, smart, strong, all the things that would perhaps give someone like Four cause for concern. In short, he is perfect, and so the plan is laid. 

Next morning, you ask Thomas if he wants to spar together the next morning, just to practice. He nods readily; you’re one of the best people here, it’s why you thought Four started paying attention to you in the first place, up until the point when he stayed there in your corner even when you made mistakes. The two of you head to a fighting ring near the side of the training hall, and if you specifically chose the one right in Four’s line of vision, well, no one needs to notice that but the two of you.

You jump up and down, trying to get some blood back into your muscles. Across the ring, Thomas does the same. He grins at you, evidently proud that you’ve chosen him of all the other eligible fighters. “Hope you aren’t looking for a victory, Y/N, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

He’s grinning, though, so you smile back. “You wish. When we’re done, you’ll have more broken bones than everyone in the med wing combined.”

“Promise?” Thomas asks, laughing, and lunges for you. You roll just in time, hitting the ground right before him. 

Usually, this is the part where you get right back up again, ready to take him down for good. However, your primary motive for this little endeavor isn’t necessarily to win, just to get someone’s eyes on you. So, you stay down, grappling with Thomas so he has no choice but to pin you, up until the point where you escape out from under him and do the same.

Thomas raises a brow suggestively. “You know, I may have lost that round, but I’m kind of happy anyway.”

You grin. “Does that mean you’re fine with losing again? I’m sure my ranking and I won’t have any problems with that.”

Thomas opens his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by the sound of an irritable shout. It’s Four, arms folded so tightly across his chest that he looks a few seconds away from breaking a rib. “Focus, initiates! You’re not here to talk.”

When you glance over at him, you can’t help but smirk at how furious he looks. Everything is going according to plan, then, he’s jealous, just as expected. He may be in charge of everyone here today, but damn if you can’t play him like any other. Looks like all that talk about so few fears and so much bravery doesn’t stand in the face of plain old envy.

In a great show of reluctance, you get off of Thomas, extending your hand to help him up. He takes it, knuckles lingering over yours for a few moments longer than necessary. You can just make out Four’s silhouette over Thomas’ shoulder, how every fiber in his body seems to radiate with barely controlled anger.

You can only push a ruse so far before it becomes too obvious, though, so you drop Thomas’ hand and get back into a fighting position. This time, you try a little harder to win, exchanging punches and kicks for a good period of time before ‘accidentally’ dropping your guard and letting Thomas tackle you around the middle. He’s obviously in the mood to play around too, and takes his time spinning you in the air before placing you carefully on the ground.

“You better watch yourself,” he says, breath uneven from the exertion of the fight, “I think I’m catching up to you.”

You look up at him, eyes half-lidded. Thomas’ dark hair falls around his face, given the impression of a halo by the light right behind his head. All of a sudden, though, he’s ripped away, and the blinding light falls onto your face to reveal a newcomer. You didn’t hear Four climb up onto the platform of the fighting ring, nor did you detect him coming so close until he pushed Thomas away from you.

Four’s face is a dark slate, devoid of any emotion except a sharp, cold fury. His voice is clipped when he speaks, and when he tells you to meet him outside, now, Thomas actually jumps out of his way. Thomas flashes you an apologetic look as you go, but you can’t find it within you to return it. After all, this isn’t a punishment, not for you. 

In fact, this is exactly what you wanted. A scene, a public show, some sign that Four would be willing to transgress his perfect picture of leadership to make his feelings known to you. You may have forced his hand more than a little, sure, but all’s well that ends well.

The door slams shut behind you, abandoning both you and Four to the dark emptiness of the hall outside the training room. All the other initiates are somewhere inside that cavernous chamber, running laps or practicing their form, and the other Dauntless are at their jobs. No one would see the two of you, then. No one would see what transpired here at all save you and him and the beating tension between the two of you.

Four’s face doesn’t lose its chill even when Thomas is out of sight. “Do you want to tell me what that was?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I was sparring with a friend. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, really?” Four asks, “A friend? That’s what you call whatever that little display was?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him. It’s far more fun to play the innocence card as long as you can, it certainly doesn’t help Four’s temper.

Four scoffs. “Of course you do. You think I didn’t see how often you were looking at me? That whole time you were with him, purposefully going easy so he could keep his hands on you. You think I wanted to see that?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat, “You haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise. All you do is stand there and watch. Maybe one of us had to do something.”

“So that’s what this was?” Four asks, brows raised, “You wanted to do something? I’ll show you something.”

You’re expecting the kiss, you have been all morning, but that doesn’t stop the breath from leaving your lungs in one rapid rush when it finally happens. His hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you there, with him, in that moment. It feels like drowning, but the thought of living after this is such an inconceivable notion that you’d rather just let the waters claim you whole.

He breaks away eventually, unfortunately, and even in the shadows of the corridor with his face only bare millimeters away from yours you can still tell that he’s proud of himself, corners of his lips twisted up in victory. “Was it worth it?” He asks slowly.

You let out a half-laugh, a needy breath taking over the rest. “It was,” you decide.

“Good,” he tells you, and kisses you again, just so you can be sure. Perhaps jealousy has its merits after all.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alex-1967s-blog

[tasteracha]

let me see you

a/n: just you watching minho jerk himself off. <1k. SMUT - MINORS DNI

it’s a game the two of you play - riling each other up and pushing the other out of their comfort zone, always testing the limits in a way that leaves the both of you feeling out of control in the best possible way. 

you of course had days where you’d fall into each other’s arms and fuck slow and sweet, whispering declarations of love into each others’ ears. you had days where you both fell asleep tangled together on the couch, warm and fully clothed and comfortable just being near each other. there’s days where you have to spend them apart, him traveling or you visiting your family, and you’d fall asleep to the sound of each other’s slow breathing over the phone. 

this was not one of those days. 

this was a day where you won the unspoken game, you got the upper hand, you’re calling the shots. a day where you can do whatever you want with him, have him do whatever you wanted him to do with you, soft and pliant under you as he holds on to your every word. 

except, you didn’t want that. what you wanted was the image of him in front of you as he is right now, fully stripped and naked and vulnerable on the bed with you standing at the foot of it, clothed and so, so turned on. he had taken off his clothes in record time, flopping on the bed as he eagerly stared at you, waiting for you to touch him. 

“touch yourself,” you say instead of doing that. he looks at you with his eyes wide in shock while his cock twitches a little at your command. it’s hard and flushed against his stomach, has been since before you even made it to the room. you raise an eyebrow at him when he doesn’t move, as threatening as you can manage while admiring the smooth planes and curves of his body. 

“really?” he says, voice incredulous as his hand travels tentatively down his body, stopping a hair's breadth from his swollen cock. you nod, a breath escaping you as his hand finally fists his cock and his head angles back against the pillows. 

“look at me,” you say sharply, gripping one of his ankles, the only part of him that you’re going to touch for a while. he tilts his head back down, slightly kiltered off to the side as he slowly strokes himself. his eyes are hooded and dark, and he takes in a sharp breath when he curves his wrist a bit. 

you squeeze his ankle, tightening your fingers around his skin, and he speeds up without you having to ask. good boy, you don’t say out loud. he doesn’t need it, or deserve it, not yet. 

he bites his lip as he works himself, his chest and neck flushing red as his breaths turn shallow and quick. his cock looks so pretty in his hand, his graceful fingers curving around himself so well as he jerks himself off with a familiarity only he can have. no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to know his body as well as he does, and it’s worth it just for moments like this where you see sides of him you can’t pull out of him yourself. 

“let me hear you,” you breathe out when you see him biting his lip to hold back a moan. you’re almost as out of breath as he is just from watching him, he looks gorgeous laid out in front of you like this. he lets out a drawn out groan, tapering into a whimper when your hand trails up a bit to stroke his calf. you’re leaned over him now, watching his hand intently, your eyes don’t stray other than to look into his own. 

he’s letting out harsh pants in between moans as his hand loses it’s rhythm, little ah-ah-ah’s escaping his plush lips; he’s close, and you can’t stop yourself from climbing over him as his face contorts in pleasure. you kiss him, taking advantage of the way his mouth is slack and open by dipping your tongue inside, sliding along his teeth before pulling away. 

“come for me,” you say against his lips, smiling when he chokes out a cry and his entire body tenses, thighs trembling. he arches up into his hand as he releases onto his stomach, his body following your command like he’s possessed. you keep your eyes on his and he doesn’t look away, not even to blink as a haze takes over and he’s left dazed and slumped into the bed underneath you. 

you look down to see his cum painting his stomach and you slide your finger through it, marveling at how he coats your skin. you bring it to his mouth and he opens obediently, sucking the digit in and hallowing his cheeks as he continues to stare at you with half lidded eyes. 

he’s perfect. 

“my good boy,” you marvel, eyes fond as you smile at him before settling against his side, your cheek squished to his shoulder. 

“clean?” he asks, voice soft and brow furrowed. 

“later,” you hum against him. 

“mmkay,” he says, eyes slipping closed as he drifts off. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Open Door 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: silverfox!Thor, side of silverfox!Loki

Summary: you're neighbour needs a little extra help after an injury but starts to expect too much of you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Thank you again for all your help,” Thor says as he shifts on the couch. His weight draws a creak from the frame as he grips the back cushion and tries to reposition himself. “I must admit, I have a hard time accepting any.” 

Your neighbour is always friendly enough. He waves or says hello or good morning, but you never really stop to chat. Not until you witnessed his avalanche of groceries as he attempted to balance his bag between his crutches. It was too heart-rending a scene to ignore. 

Despite his size, you got him inside. He grunts and you rush over to help prop his leg up on a pillow. He grits as you gently lay the cast on the fluffy bundle. He groans and leans back against the armrest. 

“Ah, the shame,” he decries dramatically. 

“I don’t mind,” you insist. “Really. I couldn’t just watch you struggle.” 

“Too sweet,” he praises, his silver hair glinting in the low lamp light. “I didn’t know there were still neighbourly neighbours.” 

“Well, I’m not that nice,” you assure him. “I got all your groceries away and you have your tea. I gotta get back to my desk. Work.” 

“Ah yes, of course, of course,” he waves you off, “I could not infringe further on your day.” 

“It’s no trouble. You can text me,” you assure him. The soft smell of chickory wafts in the dim air. 

Your eyes wander as you make your retreat. The decor is a blend of brass and walnut. Warm in a visual way. It’s a space that has been long lived in. 

“Before I go, you’re good?” You ask as you stop in the doorway. 

“I’m wonderful,” he assures you. “You’ve already done too much. Once I’m back on my feet, I promise I will be certain to repay you.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you assure. 

“Says you,” he counters. 

You chuckle and leave him. You can’t be too bothered by the interruption. Your work is tedious and most of it solitary. Working from home is flexible and freeing, but it can just as often be constraining. 

After smelling the spicy strain of tea you brewed for Thor, you’re in the mind for a cup of your own. Apple chamomile. Calming but not tiring. 

You sit and go back to work. It’s a fair bit of excitement in the usually dulcet neighbourhood. You sink back into the monotonous tasks. Check, check, check. Done, done, done. But why is that doing that? Ugh, it’s not supposed to look that way. 

Your alarm goes off, notifying you that your day is fifteen minutes from over. It’s a necessary reminder otherwise you’ll work three hours over and not realise. You wrap up your work and leave yourself notes for what needs to be done the next day. 

You yawn and grab your empty mug and phone and go back to the kitchen. Your phone vibes once. A missed message. You unlock it and check the waiting text. It’s your neighbour. Sent thirty minutes ago. 

You tap on the convo and frown. There’s only the picture of a ceiling and the edge of the wall. Oh, that can’t be good. 

You hurry to the front door and step into your shoes. You shuffle down the steps, slightly off-kilter, and cross the street. You get to Thor’s porch and knock, breathless as you wait for an answer. 

“Brother, is that you?” He calls from within. 

“No, uh, it’s me,” you say back through the door. 

“Yes, I figured you were hard at work.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Please,” he hollers back. 

You turn the handle and find him in the entryway, lodged in the alcove beside the stairs awkwardly. You want to ask what happened but you’re sure he wouldn’t want to recount that story. You come forward and tuck your phone away. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I got restless. Tried to do a bit of dusting,” he looks at the feather duster on the other side of the hallway. “I didn’t realise it was such tight squeeze and...” he wiggles his shoulders between the wall and the cub shelf that houses various shoes, boots, and accessories. “I anchored the thing you see. It’s not giving.” 

“Oh,” your brows ripple. It’s a strange situation and you’re not sure you’re strong enough to help. “Right...” 

“You could get a screwdriver. I can reach to undo the anchors, at least enough to get free, I think,” he says. 

“Right, a screwdriver,” you nod. 

“In the utility cupboard. Right by the back door,” he instructs. 

You give him one last look. He can’t be comfortable. He’s a big man and his shoulders are cramped between the small space. His leg is also jutted out in the cast as his other is bent to take pressure off. 

You go to the backdoor and find the dark wooden cabinet mounted on the wall. You open it and take out the small toolbox. You bring it back to Thor as he groans again. 

“Star,” he says, “please.” 

“Sure,” you shuffle through and hand him the star driver. 

“Great,” he grunts and raises his arm up awkwardly. He twists as best he can and angles his hand toward the shelf. He fumbles and knocks against the screw. He growls in frustration. “Too tight.” 

Before you can response, a voice drifts through the open door. “First, I must come and fetch you off the basement floor, and I’ve come again to save you from yourself.” The dark-haired man with streaks of silver in his long locks proclaims, unimpressed. “Oh, and I see someone has beaten me to it. What a wonderful detour this has been.” 

“Brother, wait,” Thor says. “You can help. I’m... stuck. I’m afraid it might be a two-person job, as it were.” 

“Certainly, would be,” the man drones as he comes closer. “You hired a nurse?” 

“Neighbour,” Thor supplies and reaches up. “Please, I’m losing feeling in my tailbone.” 

“Perhaps in your brain too,” the man quips. 

“Right,” Thor wiggles his hands impatiently. 

You take his right and the man takes his other. Thor counts and you haul him up onto one foot. He’s so big, he nearly falls into you but the other man catches him by his shoulder. They are almost of a height but the man with the black in his hair is much thinner. 

“You should consider hired help,” his brother reprimands. 

“I am not helpless.” 

“Sure not.” 

“Um, thanks,” you say to the man. He looks down his nose at you. 

“Loki,” he offers his hand formerly, “the brother. I should apologise on his behalf. He can be overly needy.” 

“I’m just glad he’s fine,” you say. 

“Mm,” the man hums and his eyes slit skeptically, “well, then, brother, do I need to stay and chaperone or can I be on my way?” 

“Go,” Thor huffs in agitation, “thank you both for your help.” He faces you in particular, “I owe you.” 

“As ever,” Loki agrees and spins on his heel. 

You smile at Thor, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’ve spent enough of your time and effort,” he gently squeezes your shoulder, “I will be sure to use my crutch next time.” 

[mead-iocre]

Brown Eyes | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Brown Eyes. 

You and Jessie have been dating for a little over a year now. When you transferred to Chelsea you were quickly charmed by the shy Canadian, who on one of your earlier training sessions, welcomed you to the team with a ball to your face. 

Hearing “Heads up!!” should’ve given you more than enough warning, but you were so focused on your own drills that you did not think that the warning was directed at you, nor were you expecting the sheer force of the ball hitting you right on the side of your head. 

As soon as the ball made impact you came barrelling down to ground, luckily just about managing to roll yourself over to your side to land safely without injuring yourself any further. 

“Fuck! I am so sorry. Are you okay?” 

You hear the voice coming closer and the sound of their cleats pushing into the grass before you feel them drop down to crouch beside you. You wince as a warm hand lands on the arm currently nursing the side of your head. Your eyes squint as the throbbing continues, trying to take steady breaths to alleviate the dizziness that’s starting to take over your head. A dull ache settled behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus. The training ground around you felt slightly off-kilter, as if gravity had momentarily lost its grip. You attempted to push yourself up, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that forced you to slump back down.

“The medics are coming, don’t move” You squeeze your eyes closed a few times in pain. The dull throbbing in your head making it hard for you to identify who is talking to you, but the accent makes it pretty distinguishable. 

“Jessie?” The Canadian with the freckles and the pretty brown eyes. 

“Yeah. It was me. Sorry about that y/n” Said brown eyes meet yours, concern and guilt swimming in them. However, there’s more to her eyes– something so alluring and captivating about hers. Amber with the smallest hits of green under certain lights, but under others her eyes are like expressive palettes of cocoa, a special treat for those lucky enough to gaze into them. 

Warm, tender and familiar. 

You avert your eyes away from hers quickly when you notice you were staring a little too long, the headache still a dull drum, nagging and incessant. It would be weird to memorise the exact Pantone shade of one of your newest teammate’s eyes so you instead focus on the rest of her. The Chelsea midfielder’s cheeks are flushed red, as she struggles slightly to catch her breath, clearly having ran the entire length of the pitch to get to you. 

“Sorry I–“ 

“s’alright. Just a slight knock” You grin at her— or at least you hope you are grinning and not looking like you were about to pass out at any minute now. 

“a slight knock, eh?” She’s cute. Very cute. And very Canadian 

Before you had a chance to quip back, you were surrounded by the medics. They assess you, going through all the steps to make sure there were no signs of anything serious. They poke and prob at you before concluding that the only thing you’ll suffer from is a sore bump on the side of your head and a lingering headache. 

The entire time Jessie was stood by you, refusing to leave even when the medics and the coaching staff assured her that you were in good hands. She insisted that she stay with you. 

And she did. 

After that incident, you and Jessie were practically inseparable. The quiet, reserved brown eyed girl that you had first met was now the girl that you would sit next to on the bus, partner up with during drills, and have front row seats to her entertaining dry sense of humour.

A few months later, Jessie finally found the courage to ask you out on a date— and of course you had agreed. On your first date, Jessie took you to a farmers market where there were stalls and stalls of seasonal foodstuffs from artisan and local producers. You had the most perfect day with her, stopping at almost every stall to taste the samples that vendors leave out. You and Jessie barely let go of each other’s hands the entire day, much preferring to walk side by side and hadn’t in hand. If you weren’t holding hands, Jessie’s hand was a comforting touch on your lower back or around your waist. 

Occasionally, you would take your phone out from your bag to snap a picture, wanting to document all the cool foods and the pretty flower stalls. You knew Jessie wasn’t too fond of the camera; however, it seemed like every time she noticed your phone in your hand, she would smile at you, even striking a pose or two at times, clearly showing that she didn’t mind you taking pictures of her. 

“Cute” You mumble, mostly to yourself, after you snap a photo of Jessie drinking her iced coffee. 

“Did you say something, baby?” The brunette steps closer to you, personal space be damned, and wraps an arm around your waist. 

You grin down at her as you click the lock button on your phone, sliding it back into your bag. You take a moment to focus on the girl in front of you, appreciating her warm brown eyes, her pretty freckles, her rosy cheeks, and the little flyaway hairs that would not stay down no matter how many times she fix her hair. 

You bring a hand up to cup her cheek, turning it away from you slightly, before you whisper “I said you’re cute” against the soft skin, pecking multiple kisses before planting your lips against her cheek for one more big kiss.  

“Gimme one here” Jessie turns her head towards you, her eyes closed and a small pout already on her lips. 

You bite your lip at how adorable she looks, so different from the aloof girl you met months ago. You must’ve taken longer than she wanted because she opens her eyes and playfully squints up at you. “you gonna kiss me or what?” 

You gently squish her cheeks together with one hand, her lips forming a cute little pout. “how ‘bout a bit of patience, cheeky girl” You press a wet kiss right on her still-puckered lips, moving your hand from her cheeks to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer. 

If you had to list one of your favourite pastimes it was making out with your girlfriend. For someone so shy at first, Jessie wasn’t afraid of PDA— anytime, anywhere. She is always the one initiating affection, not caring about who may be watching. Jessie always had an arm over your shoulder, a hand placed on your lower back, or a grip on your waist. 

Pulling away slowly, to savour the kiss, you open your eyes to enchanting brown gazing up into yours. A cascade of warmth, like autumn's embrace, like the coffee she solemnly drinks, like the muted shade of her hair against the morning light. 

It’s comfort, it’s love, and it’s Jessie. 

You often wonder how it would be like to see the world through her eyes, but if you were to ask the Canadian she would say you could see a glimpse of her entire world reflected if you simply looked into her eyes— You.

currently obsessed with jessie fleming and as a result: this.

stay warm, my loves

--- butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[cmncisspnandmore]

John “Soap” Mactavish was a hopeless flirt.

Everyone knew it, his teammates often groaning while out at bars with him, watching helplessly as another woman falls for his charm.

They all mutter under their breath as Soap’s blue eyes fall on you across the bar. Each taking bets on how long until Soap announces his departure, you hanging off his arm with a lustful look in you eyes.

What Soap doesn’t expect is for you to turn him down. A sideways glance at the blue eyed man, and a wave of your hand at his advances send Soap back to the shared table of his teammates. Metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Women rarely said no to him, your almost immediate dismissal of him throwing his plans of kilter. A smug smirk graces Ghost’s face as he watches his Sergeant sulk over his beer. Kyle offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Soaps blue eyes stare down at the grimy table, his beer dangling from his finger tips. The conversation flows around him as the hours tick by, eventually his teammates turn in for the night. Leaving him sitting at the table, his beer, now warm still in his hand.

It isn’t until your hand lands on his shoulder that he’s pulled from his thoughts. A small smile on your lips as you slide into one of the empty chairs next to him.

“I know who you are,” you lean in close, the sweet smell of your mixed drink on your breath.

Soap lets out a small grunt, his beer bottle hitting the table with a resounding thud. “Yeah? Who might that be?”

You lean forward more, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear as you whisper, “look a little different than the last time you saw me. I understand not recognizing me right away…” you breathe. The hair on the side of Johnnys neck stands up, a prickle of familiarity forming in his mind.

“Im kind of sad you don’t recognize me Johnny.. we had so much fun together the summer before year 11…” you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. It takes a moment for the words to connect, and suddenly Johnny’s eyes widen. His pupils dilating as he turns towards you.

“Steaming Jesus…” he mumbles, hands darting out to grab your forearms and pull you towards him. His hands snake around your waist as he lifts you from your own chair onto his lap. His lips pressing against yours, as he hauls you impossibly close.

His heart hammers wildly against his chest, his hands slightly shaky as he pulls away to study your face once more. “I thought I’d never see you again…” Johnny whispers, his forehead resting on yours.

“I told you I’d find you again…” you smile, your eyes watering as you stare into the blue eyes you never thought you’d see again.

“The last time I saw you, was at the airport.. when you told me the reason you were leaving…” his brows furrow, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face. “You’re alright… right? Not seeing a ghost am I?”

“I’m fine Johnny, Cancer free. I always told you if I made it out alive, I’d look for you. You promised me too, ya know. I hope you intend to keep it…”

“I meant it then and I mean it now… I never stopped loving you,” he pauses, looking at you for a moment tears welling in his eyes. “Did you keep it? After all this time?” He asks, head tilted slightly.

With shaky hands you reach up, clasping the chain around your neck, and pull it from your shirt. A smile spreads across his face as he looks at the plastic ring, the one he promised to replace if you crossed paths again. “Of course,” you smile.

“Thank god, because I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but you,” Johnny laughs, his lips pressing to yours once more.

[coeurify]

reader being a brat towards ellie all day until eventually ellie just snaps and goes “the fuck did you just say to me?” ahdhrhejrhhsbfjejejdhdj

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ as always. brat!reader & brat tamer/mean!ellie. name calling, fingering!r receiving, slapping, spit, overstim, rough treatment, pinch of dacryphilia & dumbification

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i went a little overboard. 3.5k words. sorry it took so long.

Maybe it had been too cold that morning. Perhaps you slept slightly wrong and woke up a little sore or had a bad dream. Or you could blame it on the way the sun pressed through the cracks of your window, irritating your eyes into an early rise. It didn’t really matter what had caused it, just that something did. From the moment you woke up, everything was irritating you.

The way your skin pressed against the suddenly itchy bed sheets.. how your sleeping shorts had become slightly off-kilter, it all sent tiny pricks of annoyance over your skin. As you huffed and sat in bed, your girlfriend woke beside you. Her hair was messy in the sort of way that would usually send you tumbling right back into a lying position, pressing kisses to her cheeks. Instead, you shooed her wandering hand away, pouting and mumbling for her to get off you. Usually, your bad mornings tumbled into this, a bratty attitude laid out over Ellie, scrambling to find a way to blow off steam. You just couldn’t help it. You knew it would always end in your favorite way to rid of this awful feeling.

You would swear up and down until you were dizzy and red in the face that you were not being a brat. Scoff that you weren’t pushing all the right buttons to get attention, that your attitude did not exist. Usually, Ellie would let the small comments or envelope-pushing slide past her. It was attention you were looking for, and Ellie knew better than to give bratty girls any of that. Today, however, you had kicked everything up a notch.

The creeping frustration that built on your bones was begging to be released, to be silenced into buzzing against your ears instead of the metal screeching it began to resemble. The only way you could find to coax the feeling down? Acting up. It started right away when the two of you left the bed. You turned your face when Ellie leaned in to kiss you, shrugging her off as you dropped out of the annoying fabric of your shorts.

“What’s got you in a mood?” Ellie asked quickly, watching as you kicked away the bottoms dramatically.

“Nothing,” you ignore her gaze as the word came out clipped. Now only in a long shirt, you pass through the door, Ellie hot on your heels. “You're not gonna put pants on?”

Your girlfriend and you both make your way down the stairs of your shared home, though your feet are a little heavier against the wood. You roll your eyes at her simple comment. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Ellie warned before you could answer her previous question.

Of course, you do it again, “Why would I? Got nothing to do..” your fingers find the wall as you stomp to the kitchen.

“Jesse and Dina are supposed to come over,” Ellie offered in a reply, trying again to grab at your tensed-up waist as you found the counter. You avoid the affection, flipping to look at her with a glare. “So tell them I don’t want them to!”

“Stop with the attitude,” Ellie groaned, earning her a quick middle finger as you slammed yourself behind the bathroom door next to the kitchen.

Your attitude the rest of the day was not better, nor was it very fair to your girlfriend. By midday, she knew the game you were playing, whether intentionally or not. The brattiness, the sly comments you made, or how you avoided doing anything she asked— it just built upon themselves with the ticking clock.

You were lying on the couch still early into the afternoon, your shirt bunched up enough to reveal the pretty lace piece you wore. That’s when Ellie asked you a favor. “Baby, pass me my sketchbook? I left it on the window ledge behind you,” her voice is gentle, not looking to push her luck with you. She was searching through her backpack to find pencils, green eyes finding your own after the question.

“No, I'm too comfy,” you shrugged, glancing over at her. Ellie’s jaw clicked, fist clenching around the pencils as she approached you. Not wanting to feed into your display, she simply leaned over you on the couch. Hovering for just a moment before she grabbed the sketchbook, she then shoved your feet so she could sit next to you. You had mumbled some words of disapproval, feet kicking against her a bit before a hand came down on your ankle, squeezing enough to end the childish display.

When the day dragged on, and your frustration found no cure, tensing all of your muscles up, you pushed a little more. You had shaken away the idea of simply telling Ellie you were wound up because, in your mind, that simply didn’t make sense. Instead, your only sign is a few of your bratty antics becoming a little more physical. You were more obviously searching for some sort of release to the pressure building.

When Ellie was in the kitchen, speaking on the phone to who you could only guess was Jesse, you pushed by her. The space was definitely big enough to squeeze through your two bodies without much touching, but you did. Your ass pressed against her front as you slid through the area between the counter and the island she had settled in between, making sure to take your time. You pretended to search through some papers on the island before stepping away. When Ellie reached to tug your shirt back, you slapped her hand away. Soon you were speaking loudly enough to embarrass her to the other line of the phone, “Stop being grabby, Ellie.”

If looks could kill, you were sure your knees would have caved in with the glare your girlfriend shot you. Ellie’s cheeks flushed as the voice on the phone started laughing, making her rub a hand over her forehead. You simply walked away, that tension in you only tightening when Ellie didn’t follow after you, instead acting unbothered.

When the sun began setting, you found yourself lying on your shared bed. You did your best to focus on the pages beneath your fingers, but your mind instead drifted to Ellie. You had resorted to ignoring her after she didn’t play into your game, stomping up the stairs and into your room. It left you alone and wondering too much about what she may be up to downstairs without you.

The book you attempted to use as stress relief was no help in easing you; its white pages only irritating the pads of your fingers more. The flame in your chest was licking all of the surrounding areas now— and no book or act of brattiness seemed to be dousing it into something manageable. What you needed was Ellie, and right on cue, she walked through the door.

Ellie was tugging on a jacket over her white undershirt in a way that brought your eyebrows into a furrowed stance, a twinge of unease adding to the annoyance already there at the thought she may be leaving. “Where are you going?”

Your girlfriend found your gaze as she searched around for something. “Seeing Dina and Jesse since you didn’t want them over,” Ellie’s fingers wrapped around the keyring she seemed to be looking for.

The words from earlier revisit you, how you had complained about your friends coming over. It was a little embarrassing, but any of that feeling was drowned over by the growing fire that found its way to your throat from Ellie’s tone.

“I don’t want you to go over there either,” you cross your arms. By now, there was no denying you were just being bratty, and a little ridiculous. There was no excuse for how you tried to poke at Ellie’s demeanor with the demand, looking to egg her on into some sort of reaction that she denied you all day.

“Babe,” Ellie sighed, “don't do this right now.”

You were treading on thin ice, the cracks of the frozen water taking place on Ellie’s face first, a frown building on her pretty lips. “I said don’t go,” you try again when she steps to the door.

“And why shouldn’t I?” your girlfriend challenges, pausing at the door frame as green eyes searched for a hint of truth behind your annoyed face.

“Because I told you not to.”

Ellie actually scoffed at that remark, feet planting solidly in between the bedroom and hallway, a clear sign you had absolutely gotten your way. “Because you told me to?”

Still, you pushed more than you should. “Yea, can’t you fucking listen?��� the foul language asked for a death wish, one that you knew you were sure to get when Ellie straightened up, looking away from your place on the bed.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Ellie steps closer to the bed, jacket falling off of her shoulder as the room seems to close in; walls gain a nasty tilt to them as she stands above you. It leads the book to fall off the side of the bed as you move to your knees, hurrying to where Ellie stood at the edge.

The frustration you had felt all day was reaching its peak, unable to form a wall against any words from falling from your mouth as you continue your little rant, despite knowing you had already pissed Ellie off enough.

“Think I was pretty clear,” your voice is a little more shaky than you would like it to be, but there's no helping the noise in your throat with the way Ellie is staring at you. You can feel it all over, though the heat it causes peaks in your lower stomach.

“You’re such a brat,” Ellie grits, the jacket shoved completely off, causing a mess on the floor as she finally gives in. A hand reaches forward, gripping your chin harshly enough that it stings, lips pressing open. “You think you can tell me what to do, especially after acting up all fuckin day? You should be apologizing.”

With your cheeks squished uncomfortably against your teeth, it's hard to sound very demanding. You still try your best, eyes narrowing as you speak, “I am not a fucking brat.” The answer seems to anger Ellie even more; her eyes send a sickly excited feeling through your veins. It burns against your mind like a drug you can’t get enough of. You knew what came next, and yet you still pushed your thinning luck.

“And you think you can tell me what to do? Tell me to apologize?” The words earn a slight tap on your cheek with her fingers in a warning. It almost makes you back down, though the losing blow is Ellie’s next move. A quick shove back into the plush blankets of your bed have you scrambling before your wavering confidence can protect your stance. The knee that slots between your waiting thighs is the kill shot, Ellie now caging you in.

“You don’t wanna say sorry, angel?” the girl asks, the denim of her jeans pressing against the lace panties in a way that has you struggling to stay coherent, a small poke in the right direction of ending this overwhelming pent-up energy. You only shake your head in response.

“Then I’ll just have to make you, hm?” Ellie has lost any softness to her words, likely chipped away by the fraying patience she had for your actions today. Her jean-clad knee presses into you again, moving gently against your underwear. “Make you behave again,” she continues, watching as your lip tugs between the pearly white of your teeth.

“El-” you begin, only to be cut off by her tsking. “Brats don't get to talk. You know that.”

“Good thing I’m not a brat,” you protested, leading another hand to find a grip on your cheeks, Ellie’s lips curling into a scowl. “Such a loud fucking mouth today, huh, angel? Why don’t you open it for me again?”

Though Ellie may be posing it as a question, you knew her far too well to take it as that, mulling over your two choices. Listen, part your lips for her, and let go of some of that brattiness that pulled on your hair as it owned you— or don’t. To continue your thread of personality from today, you opted for the second. Though you don't keep your jaw locked too tight, making it easy when Ellie’s palm holds your chin and lets her thumb pass through your lips, pressing against your tongue and forcing your mouth open. “Can’t ever listen,” your girlfriend muttered, mouth moving slightly before she leaned in further, a string of saliva dripping from her parted lips and directly into your mouth as her hand moved.

The act has you squeezing around her knee, a low whine threatening to rise when the leg keeps you from finding any friction. “Swallow, baby,” Ellie asks, and this time you listen. It’s, without much thought, an act you had done a hundred times before now, though it now meant Ellie had the upper hand. “You wanna listen now?” the auburn-haired girl sneers, making you glance away.

“Want you to tell me what’s got you acting like this,” she makes quick work of bunching your sleep shirt up, pulling away from you as her fingers dip into the band of the lace you wear, peeling it down your legs. You should feel a little ashamed, shirt pushed almost above your tits, panties discarded on the floor, all while Ellie is completely clothed. That shame doesn’t come. Instead, a feeling of need floods your senses— knocking you off your flimsy built pedestal. You bite your tongue to halt any reply.

The tensed-up flesh of your thighs is kneaded by her large hand, a condescending sort of coo coming from Ellie. “Aw baby, you’re all stiff..” the words don’t ease you, and neither does her palm pressing your thighs open. When she’s met with your glistening cunt, the wetness purely from all of the attitude you had dished out today and her rough handling, she actually laughed. It’s low and mean, eyes flicking up to you. “You all wound up? That’s you’re acting like a brat? Need someone to fuck it away?”

Ellie murmurs her words like they’re only for her to hear, and maybe they are. She wasn’t stupid; she could see that frustration dripping off you all day. She had just waited for the cue to have a go at you for it. Her fingers brush over your slit only once before she's above you again, a hand pressed into the blanket near your head. The denial of her touch has you mad again, huffing and refusing to meet the green eyes. “Tell me I'm right. Tell me you were a bitch all day 'cause you wanted this.”

You can feel the muscle of your tongue burn from how hard you’ve bitten it to keep from spilling out words Ellie wanted to hear. The burn is quickly overshadowed by the quick sting that takes place on your cheek when Ellie’s palm finds home there after a swift and light slap. It wasn’t rough, not that you would mind if it were, only used to grab your attention. The sting subsides as she speaks. “Look at me and tell me, or I won't touch you.”

The threat is enough to claw out of your little silent trick, the brat inside you finally shoved down for a moment by a needier, whinier side of you. “You’re right,” you whine, hips bucking up as her hand travels toward your bare cunt. Ellie accepts the answer, middle finger dipping into your folds, sliding through the wetness there. “I shouldn’t even let you come,” she threatens, the finger pressing into you slowly. The act pulls a whine that's even louder than before, only built upon with more small whimpers as the long digit begins to move. This was the feeling you had been searching for all day, and Ellie was glad to provide it, despite the acts you both put on.

“Fuck you,” you manage to reply at the empty threat, though that brings another finger into your center, stretching out around your squeezing walls.

“I am,” Ellie bragged, scissoring her fingers as they pressed in and out at a quicker pace. Your head falls back, mouth open wide enough to puff out little continuous exhales, each shaking in a way that breaks any semblance of control you could pretend to have. “You just needed me to fuck you open on my fingers to shut you up, hm?”

You answer with a roll of your hips, pushing down as her thumb joins the deadly mix, circling your clit. Her thrusts give you no chance for rest, a constant pressure building in your core. A heat rises to your cheeks as you feel your mind dip into a state of incoherence, your words coming a little jumbled before you iron the sounds out. “El- fuck..” Is all that comes, though it’s enough for Ellie to triple her pace, leaving your eyes glassy. The unshed tears blur your eyes, unable to find a way to fire the right signals in your brain to blink them away. Incapable of finding a way to communicate to Ellie with anything more than soft moans and cries. Part of you still wanted to brat, to find some remark to fight the dirty words that press from your girlfriend’s angry lips. It's useless.

“Pissing me off all fucking day, making me miss hanging out with our friends,” she rasped, licking her lips as she looked down at your weeping pussy, the wet spot on the sheets growing with every plunge into you. “For what? So I could ruin this pretty pussy?”

A quick nod is your only reaction, the knot in your lower belly threatening to break with more of the derogatory words, “Such a fucking whore,” Ellie muses, regarding you as you lick over your dry lips, whimpering in a lame attempt to pretend her words didn’t please you. “If you needed me, could've just asked, you know? Woulda’ made you feel so nice, baby.. but I think you like it better like this, right?”

Ellie is babbling by now, obviously just as affected by the act as you are. You finally answer, “ ‘S no fun to ask,” the words are slurred, gasped out by a sore throat. The exact time you speak, your orgasm comes rushing through you, walls throbbing around Ellie’s fingers as you soak them, dripping onto the bed beneath your body. The ache in your bones finally subsides, arms going lax against the bed as the auburn-haired girl works you through the high.. and then doesn’t stop. It causes your head to lift, squirming as her thumb finds your sensitive clit again, the fingers moving at a languid pace. The filthy noise of them dipping into your sopping cunt has you shivering, searching for comfort in your girlfriend’s eyes. You find none; the pupils glazed over as she stares directly at you, stone cold.

“You thought I’d let you go with what you wanted?” Ellie chides, a few pieces of her hair falling forward as she makes a few more slow thrusts. “You wanted to get off so bad, so you will. Til’ I decide it's enough.”

“Ellie,” you break, tears spilling from their cage within your eyes, hot trails down your cheeks as your girlfriend quickens her pace. “Please.” falls from you simultaneously with the tears that find your lips. It's the first time you’ve said that word all day, a simple nod to the fact you had given up on bratting— too enthralled by the overwhelming feeling Ellie brought upon you.

Another coo sounds in your ear as Ellie leans closer, her free hand coming to wipe at your red cheeks, fingers wet from your tears. “So pretty when you cry, baby,” is all she says, ignoring your plea. Not that it was clear what you were begging for, to you or her. Still, you mumble the word a few more times— a prayer you recite as the other girl’s motions do anything but holy actions, sending you into a rambling state.

“Please, please, please,” you rattle on, too far past the point of looking for any other words. “Please what?” Ellie asks, pressing a few kisses over the tear-stained cheeks. Unable to answer, another sob bubbles up from a hard plunge into you, rendering your mind officially useless. All you could hear, see, and feel was Ellie— and you weren’t upset with it.

“Can't answer?” your girl assumes, chuckling against the part of your neck she bites into. “Forget your words, baby?” When you nod at that, Ellie’s tongue licks over the teeth marks, but you can feel her smile against your skin. The smug feeling radiates off of her with every press into you, the sounds that accompany it only push her ego even fucking higher.

Your hips involuntarily grind into her, body searching for an end to the overwhelming heat. The heat that has poured into the room is almost awful, clinging to your skin with a sheer layer of mugginess and a smell that was only bearable to the two of you. When Ellie bites at your neck again, you see red. The stinging sensation, paired with the mess she was making in between your shaking thighs had you tumbling into another high. This one sucks any air from your lungs, vision doting black before you force the teary eyes shut. Your fingers grasp at whatever they can find, twirling into the fabric of her shirt to seek comfort.

“Where’d that attitude go? Not so much of a brat anymore, hm?” is what you hear next, the phrase falling on ringing ears.

The following silence is enough of an answer for Ellie, who gives you time to work through the aftershocks of your second orgasm before pulling her fingers out. You begin to think you may be able to rest now, but that dream is killed when you feel something tap against your lips—without much thought, you part them, met with the taste of yourself as she dips the wet digits into your mouth.

“Clean my fingers for me, baby. Wanna use my mouth this time.”

[lipglossanon]

Double Vision

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

subby stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

dedicated to those feral for this idea as well as the anon who gave me the medical term for it 🤭 the ending isn’t what I wanted but oh well here we are lmao

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, mommy kink, lactation, lactation kink, milk kink, dirty talk, slightly dom Leon 😯, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play/sucking, Leon gets in his feels at the end 🥺

not proofread ✌️

Title from Double Vision by Foreigner

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

You sigh and toss your phone down onto the bed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

A slight knock on the door has you turning your attention to Leon who’s shyly ducking past your cracked door. 

“Hey, I was wondering if—“ he pauses with a frown, “you okay?”

You smile at him and reach out your hands, “Hug please.”

He comes into your room and lets you pull him down onto your bed, hugging him to your chest. 

Laying there like that for a moment, you relax into his body heat with a sigh. 

“I’m good, I just,” you laugh a little deprecatingly, “it’s a little embarrassing but the new meds I’m having to take make me—“

You stop talking with a sigh making Leon raise up on his arms to look down at you.

“Make you what? Sick? Do you need to—“

You wave him off, “No nothing like that. I’m fine it’s just that they,” you glance down at your chest then back up to his face, “they make me lactate.”

“What?” 

You nearly laugh from how wide Leon’s eyes go as they drag down to your chest, “But how?”

You shrug, “Just a side effect. The doctor said it should clear up so not to worry about it. I’m just gonna have messy bras for a while.”

“Oh,” Leon looks dazed, off kilter, as he looks back into your eyes, “t-that’ll suck.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, pushing him so you can both sit up on your bed, “I might steal some of your baggy shirts and just got braless if you’re cool with that?”

“T-totally cool,” he blurts out, red tinging his cheekbones, “whatever you need, you got it.”

You laugh, “Thanks little brother,” you pat his cheek, “thank you for not making me feel weird about it or anything.”

His eyes droop as he nuzzles your palm, “Of course.”

You let him lead you to his room and you snag some of his shirts, kissing his cheek in thanks as you leave to change. The rest of the afternoon has you lounging in the living room, just trying to get comfortable from the full feeling in your chest as well as the sensitivity of your nipples. 

Leon points out you’re leaking through the shirt sending you off to clean up and change into a new one. Aside from that incident it’s actually a pretty quiet night in, just the two of you hanging out. 

Feeling rather tired, you decide to call it an early night, leaving Leon to finish up some movie you weren’t really paying attention to. He kisses you goodnight, lips lingering a little longer than usual but you don’t think anything of it. After climbing into bed, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. 

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling warm but confined. As your eyes blink open, you whine to feel hot wet suction around your nipple. Squirming, you realize your arms are being pinned down—held by Leon having wrapped his own around you as he mouths at your breasts. 

“Leon, what—“

“Thirsty momma,” his voice comes out wrecked, “couldn’t sleep, need mommy’s tits in my mouth.”

“Oh fuck, Leon,” you whine again as he goes back to licking and sucking your nipples, “this is bad, you shouldn’t do this.”

The hard buds feel sore and sensitive; he must’ve been at this for a long time already. You try to move again but he squeezes you even tighter as he roughly nips your breasts. 

“Be still momma, let me finish,” he growls, “need to suck on these titties to feel better.”

You whimper and mewl as he goes back to softly licking at your breasts. Wetness is dripping from your hard nipples as Leon laps up the milk spilling from your breasts. You rub your thighs together and you realize your panties are soaked. 

“Leon, please.”

You’re honestly unsure what you’re even pleading for—him to stop? Continue? Go even further? 

Leon takes it on himself to answer your confused thoughts by tugging the band of your panties down to slide his cock inside to rut against your wet pussy in your own panties. Mewling, you rock against him, dragging slick pussy lips against his cock until one of you shifts and the fat tip spreads your folds and grinds along your clit and drippy hole. 

“Got me sandwiched tight momma,” Leon groans, slowly thrusting against your cunt, “could slip right into mommy’s wet pussy.”

“Leon,” you gasp out, mewling low in your throat as his mouth goes back to suckling your nipples, drinking the milk you’re accidentally producing. 

You squirm and wiggle but it just makes everything even worse better. Your cunt is so slippery, Leon’s cock is gliding smoothly between your pussy lips making you hump into the feeling. 

He pulls away from your hard buds with a soft moan, “You know, I read up on this. A-and if you keep getting your nipples stimulated, it’s possible you’ll just always have milky tits.”

You whine brokenly, “Leon, I don’t want—“

“Mm but mommy I’m so thirsty, don’t you want me to grow up and be a big strong boy,” his tongue laps at your nipples until your spurting milk from the tips all over his face making him groan.

“I’ll milk you everyday momma, promise,” he sighs as he kisses your breasts, “love your big mommy tits.”

You moan as he hungrily sucks on your hard buds, eagerly lapping up the milk he’s pulling from your breasts. Leon’s moaning and acting so sloppy, milk spilling from his lips as he moves back and forth between each nipple. 

“So good mommy, taste so good,” he finally pulls away, but moves his hands up to cup and knead your breasts. 

He twists and tugs your nipples, moaning when they spray milk onto his face and chest. You whimper feeling overstimulated and turned on more than you’ve ever felt before. 

“Need it so bad” he groans, sliding his fat tip into your pussy, stretching your fluttering walls as he slowly bottoms out. 

He keeps your arms pinned to your sides, chest pressed along your front as he slowly fucks into you. He presses a hot kiss against your neck, nipping at the skin before dragging his mouth down to your leaking breasts. 

“Mommy’s wet pussy is sucking me in,” he whines pressing his face into your chest, smearing thin lines of milk over his pouty lips. 

You mewl a confused noise as he snaps his hips a little harder making your brain white out. 

“Been wanting to drink from momma’s wet titties all day.”

Your walls flutter and clamp down on his dick causing him to hiss. 

“So thirsty and you’ve been teasing me all day with your leaky tits,” he growls.

You squeal when Leon bites your sore nipple and sucks it roughly before letting go with a pop. 

“I’m mommy’s good boy aren’t I?”

Before you can even answer Leon goes back to sucking your hard buds, eagerly drinking up the milk you’re making.

“Such a good boy,” you finally choke out, whimpering as Leon gets even more excited with his sucking, “mommy’s best boy.”

“Sucking your sexy tits is gonna make me cum,” he mumbles into your skin, “can I milk you, momma? Promise I’ll be so good for you, milk you everyday. Come into your room and fill you up like you’ll fill me up.”

You whine when he pulls completely out to rub his cock all along your pussy, fat tip bumping against your clit before he ruts his dick against your aching hole. Pressing the head inside your cunt, he buries himself deep until his tip kisses your cervix. 

“Leon,” you mewl, eyes fluttering from the stretched fullness of your pussy. 

He slowly rocks in and out of your cunt while he suckles at your nipples, messily dragging his mouth over your skin. His thick cock stretches your hole so good it has you whining nonstop. 

You don’t know how long it is as Leon milks your heavy breasts while he fills you up with his cock. He keeps up the slow rolling grinds, pelvis rubbing against your clit while his thick length rubs against the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, fat tip kissing your cervix—just a kaleidoscope of pleasure sweeping through you making you completely cockdrunk. 

Leon presses kisses into your breasts, humping into your squelching pussy with gentle thrusts as he nuzzles the milky liquid dripping from your nipples. He whimpers when your pussy walls flutter around his dick. 

“Mommy, wanna breed you,” he huffs, hips picking up speed as he fucks your pussy harder, “wanna knock mommy up, wanna have lotsa milk to drink.”

You moan, “Leon, no, you—oh god.”

He whines pitifully as he grinds harder against your g-spot, “But I need it momma, ‘m so thirsty, don’t you wanna let me drink from your milky tits?”

“Leon!” you squirm in his hold as your cunt pulses around his cock, “that’s dirty.”

“Is it?” he nips at your breasts, “but it tastes so good, and you’re so wet around my cock. Let me milk you, mommy. Don’t you want your good boy to milk your fat tits?”

“Want it, want it so bad,” you whimper, hips rocking down into his thrusting cock, “you’re gonna make me cum, Leon.”

He groans, arms squeezing you even tighter, “Wanna make mommy feel so good.”

You wail as he rams against your g-spot over and over again.

“Gotta fill mommy’s needy pussy nice and deep,” he growls, “gotta make sure she’s stuffed full. Love fucking my hot, wet mommy’s pussy.”

You come with those words filling your ears as your stepbrother ruins you on his big dick as he sucks your tits dry. 

Your orgasm doesn’t wane as Leon fucks into your cunt, tip knocking into your womb making your pussy clench and spasm around his cock. 

His mouth wraps around one of your nipples and suckles softly. He groans around the hard bud and pushes his cock as deep into your cunt as possible, hot ropes of cum spurting from the tip of his dick. Groaning, he grinds his cock against your fluttering walls as his hot sticky cum fills your pussy until it’s dripping out of your stuffed hole. 

He pulls himself out, letting the last few spurts cover your puffy mound and swollen clit with hot cum. 

You moan, mind completely empty as your body trembles with aftershocks. Leon continues to nurse at your breasts for a little longer until he finally pulls away with a sigh, cock kicking and throbbing as it presses against your pussy. 

A mix of creamy cum and slick fills the gusset of your panties as it drips over his cock from your clenching hole. You both lay there catching your breath, heartbeat thundering in your ears. Leon’s arms pull away letting you actually move yours. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Leon’s voice is meek and quiet, his eyes are downturned and sad when they meets yours, “I understand if you hate me. I don’t know w-what came over me.”

A flare of indignation burns in your chest and you let that show in your face now that you can actually think. 

“I’m pretty disappointed in you Leon,” your voice is firm, “I don’t want this happening again, okay? At least not til we talk about it beforehand.”

“Yeah?” he perks up a little at that but winces when your lips purse. 

“Again I’m sorry, promise I won’t do that again.”

His eyes drift back down to your nipples which feel cold and sore, covered in his spit and milk. 

“Can I drink again?”

“Now?” you know you sound incredulous  but can’t contain the tone. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes dilating as they take in your swollen and puffy nipples, “so thirsty momma.”

You shudder, clit pulsing in arousal, “They’re pretty sore, Leon. You got a little rough.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, mouth gravitating to your nipples, eyes lifting to look up at you, “I can kiss it and make it better?”

You fight to keep the fondness out of your voice, “Oh? Well I guess if you keep it soft and I mean soft, Leon. You can kiss it better.”  

You gasp noisily as he presses soft kisses to the tip of each nipple. 

“So sorry, momma,” he mutters, pressing hot open mouth kisses all around your areola, “won’t be so mean again.”

He softly sucks a nipple with a whine, eyes fluttering shut as soon as the taste of milk hits his tongue. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he hums, swapping over to the other nipple. 

Your fingers are tangled in his blonde locks, just holding him at your chest as you whimper and whine as his hot mouth bathes your tits with kisses and licks. 

You lay there for a long time just letting Leon have his fill of sucking your breasts and drinking your milk until he can’t get anymore. You’re soaked again but don’t want to push for more unless Leon offers it. 

“Momma,” he whines, “want more milk.”

You shiver, “Well I’m sorry you drank it all, pretty boy.”

He grunts and licks your nipples, “Can I fuck mommy’s pussy again? It’ll make me feel better.”

You moan and pull Leon to lay on top of you, “Yeah, baby boy, you can fuck mommy’s wet pussy.”

He whimpers and bucks his hips, making his cock drag against your clit. The band of your panties is still pulled down, letting him rub against your pussy lips. You both shift until he’s able to slide into your clenching heat, quickly bottoming out in your slick soaked walls. 

“Cum in me baby brother,” you moan, legs wrapping around his waist as well as you can, “wanna feel it.”

“Fuck, fuck, whatever you want,” he groans, hips pistoning into your squelching pussy, “always wanna creampie my sister’s sexy cunt.”

“Oh god, Leon,” you moan, nails scratching as his shoulders, head tossed back against your pillow, “that’s it, fuck, right there.”

He snaps his hips harder and harder, cock bullying against your g spot repeatedly as he grinds down on your clit. You’re still sensitive from earlier so it’s next to no time before your cumming all over his dick. 

Your pussy walls clamp down on his cock like a vice. He thrusts into your pulsing walls half a dozen times before he’s burying his cock deep into your cunt to fill you up again. The feel of hot sticky jizz spilling inside your pussy makes you moan and pull Leon down into a messy kiss. 

Panting, he pulls away, eyes shut tight as he smushes his face into your neck. 

“You, I lo—fuck, I care about you so much,” he’s whispering quickly, nearly tripping over his words, “you’re the best, god I don’t deserve you. You’re so perfect.”

“Hey, hey, shh, shh,” you pet his hair, voice soft, “you’re feeling a lot right now, it’s okay.”

He sniffles and nuzzles deeper into your neck, body minutely relaxing against you. 

“I care about you too, Leon,” you whisper against his hair as he takes in a shaky breath, “such a sweet boy for me.”

You hold him as you stroke his hair and slowly drift back to sleep. 

[hwaightme]

GUY.exe

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

✏️ pairing: yunho x gn!reader ✏️ genre: fluff, crack, friends? to lovers, drawing? to lover ✏️ summary: you never expected for the character you designed for the newest dating simulator to be quite as realistic as this ✏️ wordcount: 5.0k ✏️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, unhinged crack galore, fever dream, digital artist / designer reader, shy boy best friend yunho, lowkey referencing the song the fic is named after (GUY.exe by SUP3RFRUIT) ✏️ taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ ✏️ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE MY NADIA @justhere4kpop !!! you are the kindest, funniest, sweetest person ever, i love you so so much and i am so grateful for every day because it means i can spend it with you <3 wishing you the best day, all the most amazing things, experiences, achievements and more!!

Another hour more, and you were going to scream. Hunched over your drawing tablet with bloodshot eyes and a cramping hand, you had been drawing and redrawing what seemed to be the same thing over and over again. But nothing gave you that magical feeling of completion and rightness when the abstract lines and shapes and shadows and doodles all came together on a page to form one whole. What you were experiencing was, in fact, very much the opposite. All because of these damn dumb brown doe eyes that you had decided to give to the character. Of course. What other eyes could the golden retriever type have, right? What other kinds of eyes would your boss approve of for the established archetype, the persona that you had ideated, storyboarded and proposed not only in front of your immediate team but also to senior management? That was right. None. No other. Only these doe eyes that you had been staring at and cursing profusely for the last four hours after having promised yourself that you would try to get to bed at ten in the evening instead of the less-than encouraging past midnight madness. But who were you kidding? 

Setting down the pen, you leaned back to stretch, hearing random joints crack and echo around your body, making you wonder if you have even been moving at all for the past few weeks. Having the opportunity to work from home during fast-paced sprints was, of course, a big benefit, but all too often for you, it also meant only ever walking from your home office to your kitchen and back, with the occasional bathroom break and a flop onto the armchair you had dragged into your office for designated social media scrolling time. Gone from the world, with your friends having nicknamed you an e-hermit in not one, but two separate chats. Zoned out and barely hanging onto the words spewed by your superiors, much like the rest of your fellow designers working on this same project, be it other characters, setting, clothing customisation options, accessories, or special items… as the main project lead, boss of the bosses had said: ‘whatever the user wishes for, should be there’. Who knew that a dating simulator could be that intense and demanding? 

Your drawing tablet was glaring at you, and so were the eyes on its screen, doubled onto your monitor watching your every movement like a painting at a museum would. They were meant to be kind and loving, crafted to complete the sunshine that this character was supposed to be, but the slightest misses in the lines were throwing the image off-kilter, and you could not pinpoint what was wrong. Reaching out for the now lukewarm cup of coffee off to the side of your desk, narrowly avoiding the clutter of sketches and notes you had made, you heaved a sigh, pondering if it would be the wisest to simply resign yourself to abandoning the task for today, and pick it up at work tomorrow. It was not like you would be punished for having the eyes be slightly off during an update meeting, after all, this was an ongoing process. But the perfectionist part of you was not letting go. You had managed to ideally depict everything else - the toned, tall physique with the stunning waist, torso and broad shoulders, the cheeks that made you feel a strong cute aggression, the tousled locks that could then be customised by a player’s colour preference, every other feature of the face that screamed ‘handsome’ and ‘appealing’... you did it all, and you would not be yourself if you could not overcome this little blip.

“One more try…” you whispered to yourself and searched for the file on your computer that contained a user story and profile of the character you had been agonising over. 

One click, another, and the document was up on the screen, revealing an initial concept sketch that you had made when you first proposed the man as a possible love interest for the main character in the simulator, as well as any facts about him, now being even further developed by the story-writers. Page after page, update after update the character in some ways felt more real than you, especially in your current deflated state. A gentleman, a sentimental soul, with what your colleague had called ‘four-dimensional’ traits and overall a funny, adorable sweetheart who at the click of a finger can turn into the sexiest man alive. There was nothing you did not like - aside from some details here and there that you were not sure who added but they had been approved so you had to deal with it, and that was problematic for your work since it meant that you were in the permanent state of wanting to do the character justice. You scrolled back up, starting at the brief, staring at the name as if it wasn’t already imprinted in your mind. Jeong Yunho. 

The dance instructor and choreographer. The talented and hardworking man who the main character would meet third, on her eighth day in Seoul. Born on the twenty-third of March nineteen ninety-nine in the city of Gwangju, moving to Seoul to chase his dreams and fight for them. Special talents… skills… favourite phrases… preferences… key memories… you read on, re-absorbing the details and rearranging them on imaginary shelves, trying to make sense of the information in the context of character design. How were you going to depict all of this in a pair of eyes? A part of you was confident that you were overthinking - actually, you definitely were. Not a single other designer was on Yunho's creation, and developers were going to look at him not as a persona, as a representation of a being that had become real in your mind, but as a task to execute, lines of code to make him move in predetermined ways, make him talks in predetermined ways, smile… yes, you were excited to see him be just that bit more alive, but at the same time, you were afraid of that moment - it would be right then that the world you had subconsciously built for you and him alone would be shattered, and your daydreams dispelled, maybe even crushed. So, getting the eyes perfect right now was the least you could do. At least your Yunho would be perfect.

Swearing under your breath, you picked up the pen once more and twirled it once around your fingers. His personality was fresh on your mind, heart racing, you could almost imagine him in front of you. With a final nod of encouragement, you dived back in, with more vigour and motivation than before, determined to get Yunho right, and to depict him how he truly was, how you knew he should be. The time ticked past, and so did the layers of doubt. Erasing themselves along with strokes of the digital brushes that dissatisfied you, you were unveiling the true character, and with a light heart, a smile on your face and a saved file, leaned onto your desk and rested your head on your crossed arms, just for a quick break to relish in the fact that you finally achieved the look that you had been searching for…

“Hey, good morning you worker bee, what did I tell you about sleeping at your desk?”

You never thought you could yell, right after waking up, as loud as you did at that moment. Jolting up from your seat, forgetting all the papers, equipment and stationery that was strewn about on the table on which you had been dozing, you bolted away from the source of the voice. It had resounded far too close to you for comfort, belonged to no one whom you knew, and was dangerously sweet and slightly lower-set. Pleasant. But who the hell was in your apartment and how did they break in when you almost always double-locked your door? After building up a bit of distance, you finally looked up and rubbed the last bits of sleep from your eyes. The figure was lean, toned, considerably tall, perhaps even very tall, definitely a man, with dark hair and a face that was a bit too similar to-

Jeong Yunho. Jaw-dropping, you darted back to your tablet and computer, practically shaking the mouse, forcing the entire digital system to begrudgingly awaken at your command. You searched everywhere. The open file, others, older versions… nothing. No luck in finding what you had been working on. It was as if the Yunho you had been spending weeks developing had never existed, and all that you were left with and were staring at was a blank page, and the character, no, a whole man, right in front of you, supposedly living, breathing and in your room. You stood up straight, giving the not-quite-a-stranger but still a stranger a once over, while he, confused, had an eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. He looked adorable that way. Abashed to the point of cuteness - you recalled a game developer on your team describing the planned emotional response functionality in that way; it had been a hit, and now you were seeing, in person, why. 

“Y-Yunho?” you whispered in disbelief, a hand hovering over your mouth while you were wondering whether you should officially report yourself to your boss for having succumbed to the delusions. Relief flashed over the beautiful man’s features when you mentioned his name, timidly, yes, but still, it was his name that you uttered.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s me, hey, don’t worry.”

“Y/N?” He knew your name. This was too real - a shriek erupted from what felt like the depths of your soul, and you shut your eyes, only to open them again and to see the same picture, but a little more zoomed in. He was approaching you. Code red, alert, alert, hot man of your dreams who you had been drawing all the time and were effectively being paid to thirst over was approaching you.

“Do you not remember me or something, are you okay? See I keep telling you to not sleep so late, it’s bad for you-”

“Look who’s talking, mister ‘time to text at two in the morning’,” It was a shot in the dark, a random recollection of facts that had been noted about Yunho, but that was true, since he stopped immediately, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Alright, alright, you got me. But hey, you answer me so we are in this together, right?” he countered, and winked. 

“Yeah… and I should stop drinking coffee that late, it gives me some cursed… abilities…” you concluded cryptically, though Yunho did not seem to care much about the wording, taking it as your account of how easily you had been spooked by him.

After the initial wave of ‘stranger danger’ had subsided, instead being replaced by the odd conviction that the man before you truly was just the representation of the character for the simulator, you crossed your arms and regarded him more slowly, calmly while he approached the book cabinet that was filled to the brim with manga, manhwa, figurines, dolls, action figures… effectively the best representation of what had inspired you and continued to drive you to do what you were doing in your life now. He was dressed casually, in a zip-up grey hoodie and dark grey jeans. He had taken off his shoes and was in black socks that he stuffed into a pair of slippers - so in this reality, Yunho clearly was a regular guest. Scratching the back of your head, you wondered if this was a storyline that had been updated and you were unknowingly hallucinating.

“Well, uh, if you… if you want me to come by another time I don’t mind. Whatever works best for you…”

Oh. It finally clicked in your head, and your heart fluttered. The moment was stark and aching in your mind, and you were barely able to contain yourself, the subconscious fangirl in you fully awakening. The light flush of pink on his cheeks, those damn doe eyes that were so perfect, and were now looking right at you as if you were Yunho’s entire world, it was all a telltale sign for what was to happen later, and the past disappointment at having been woken up and having no more documents to present evaporated. This was another life, it had to be. One where you did not have to worry about the endless story points, bi-weekly sprints and one deliverable after another. Only a very precious Yunho who, while toying with the sleeve of his hoodie was pondering if he was even welcome.

“Hey! No, we were planning to hang out and we are going to. Sorry, you know how work is and it got to me this time. What shall we do then? Go out, stay in?” you amplified your sociability, putting the fantastical aspect of the circumstances on the back burner for future pondering.

Laying down the pen that you had absent-mindedly grabbed for self-defence, you stepped around the desk and towards Yunho, never once breaking the visual exchange, except when his gaze darted to the floor under your intensity. You had the advantage after all, of knowledge. You could sense, and could confirm by your universe, what exactly was going to happen. He was pretending to not be affected by your closeness, looking at the cabinet again, though the tone in which he spoke was vulnerable, every bit the dream guy you were imagining all this time. You could barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek - in fact, you made a mental note to yourself to check if that was a playable option in the game or not.

“Can we… stay in?”

“Take out?” if there was something you would not quite let him do, it would be to give him full power over the kitchen. Perhaps another time, but not when the dream was so magnificent.

“You bet! I’m buying this time-”

“Yun, c’mon.”

“Technically I am still the guest.”

“You are much more than a guest-” a pause, a blur within which Yunho was attempting to pick out the meaning behind the words which you had purposefully left to be ambiguous, just to mess with him a little bit. It was too sweet, “I mean, you practically live here at this point,” he groaned and playfully rolled his eyes while continuing to tap in the order to what was for sure meant to be your favourite restaurant in the neighbourhood.

You followed him into your living room. Everything was just as you had left it. Even Yunho’s presence was beginning to feel natural, probably because it had already been pretty much just as constant as him now physically falling onto the couch and leaning back to stretch an arm out over the back of it. Hell, you had even spent some evenings sketching him in this same room. As you settled beside him, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just as friends who were feeling not quite platonic would do, you realised that indeed, you were that close. You did know him ‘since forever’, and whatever this fever dream was, you had every right to enjoy it. So upon pulling your legs onto the couch and under you, you settled in and with a soft sigh began to set up the movie you were going to watch. Just like you and Yunho would do had he been an actual interest of yours.

As the food arrived and was promptly devoured, and you were midway through the film, you found Yunho slowly but surely gravitating towards you. First, it was with an outstretched hand when he was trying to imitate a character on the screen, then with him sitting ever so slightly closer when there was supposedly a ‘spooky moment’ even though you knew full well that out of the two of you, you were the one who would not dare enter a haunted house again, and finally, under the pretence of ‘wanting to show you a funny meme on his phone’ he sat right next to you, thighs flush against each other, arm resting on the sofa right behind your head. You could not help but lean into the warmth, attracted to it, comforted. You knew Yunho inside and out, and if there was anyone who you would trust like this, it would be him. He had seen you at your worst - crying in the office bathrooms when during your early days at the company you had been humiliated by your old boss (who, thankfully, had been promptly fired), and had seen you at your best - your award-winning presentation and proof of concept for an innovative life simulation game, selected as a showpiece for the company at a major global conference. He was always there. Be it on your phone, in a sketchbook, or on your laptop - he was always there, cheering you on. There was no difference between then and now, except that now you could allow your head to rest against his broad chest, hearing the soothing beating of his heart behind the cotton fabrics, feeling how his hand dropped to trace random, intricate shapes on your shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to the television screen. 

You could sense that he was afraid to look at you, or at least of what he would think or do if he were to do so. He was warm. Very warm. Maybe too warm. You looked up, noting the adorable redness of his ears that appeared only in particular instances: either he just woke up from deep sleep which was not the case, or he had violently shaken his head and rubbed his ears - another no, or he was embarrassed and shy. Bingo. There it was. You nuzzled against him and swore you could feel his entire body stiffen. Just like when a cat makes a person ‘ the chosen one’ by lying on their lap and said person almost forgets to breathe, you nearly knocked consciousness out of Yunho, it seemed.

“What’s up?” you mumbled, noting that Yunho straightened his back, sitting in an unnatural position.

“I, uh, nothing, it’s nothing,” he responded, clearing his throat, still not daring to look to the side to face you. 

A pause. That was his character - you nodded to yourself. He had always been like this. Sympathy through the roof but when it came to his openness - he far from often strayed into that field. It would take quite a bit of coaxing, or, somehow easier, waiting for the right moment. So wait you did, comfortably resting against Yunho, insistent that he return to his previously unwinded state. Before you could snake your hand around him to pull his hood up, your friend suddenly shot up, mumbling something about it being too stuffy, or too hot, and tugged the article of clothing off.

All would be fine and dandy if he was not built how he was - and you knew it better than anyone, however strange it was to admit. After all, you had been the one to pick and sketch out his physique, knowing every muscle, curve and edge. As he fumbled with the sleeves, you took in his form, mouth agape as you saw what you had only perceived two-dimensionally, now in live action, and somehow being the one case of where the transition was impeccable if not better. If he were to turn at any moment, he would bear witness to your disturbingly dedicated scrutiny. But at the same time, what could a digital artist and designer do when a handsome man was right before them? Exactly. It was practically a duty to perceive; if not for personal interests (which you would be a liar if you were to say you did not have them), then at least for science. He looked too good in the dark grey graphic t-shirt, which, despite it being slightly oversize, did its beautiful work by revealing his perfectly toned arms. When you noticed him being in the process of turning back, you peeled your gaze away and back to the movie, not sure where in the storyline you even were, nor what the actors were saying. Patting the space next to you, you beckoned Yunho back. This time, he was calmer in his demeanour, falling back and letting you fall into him, with him, for him - and he was right there to catch you. 

Action scene after action scene turned into a blur, dialogue was static that you were not bothered to discern while you focused on Yunho’s breathing. Shallower than before, but still comforting. Who would have thought that you would be cuddling with your dream man when a mere few hours ago you were holed up behind your desk, with a cramped and stiff neck, an exhausted hand and equally tired eyes? Eyelids grew heavier, and you wondered if it would be long before you would fall asleep again, and wake up alone, as usual; a bitter smile settled on your lips when the realisation hit you, earning you a perplexed glance from Yunho and a poke in your side.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Definitely something, he turned to you, studying your every movement. The action led him to detangle himself from you, leading you to shiver a little from the lack of his body heat, “ah wait are you cold now? I- wait, here, hoodie?”

“Thanks.”

Him. In every thread. The scent of clean laundry, cotton, and fabric softener. There was something so magical in it, soothing. You wanted to float in the aroma and this moment forever. Pulling the hoodie tighter around you, you pretended to not notice the adoration that was blatantly obvious in Yunho’s expression. He watched as you pushed up the sleeves a little bit, crossed your legs and looked back at him.  Your friend, your muse and subject was nervous, and it did not need a trained professional to figure it out. The tale was climbing to a peak, and the main characters had to face it together. You waited for him, mellowness across your features as you played with one of the hoodie’s drawstrings.

Yunho looked at you, and something about the purity, and hopefulness within him made you think of the very first drawings you had made on post-its in the middle of a conference. Bored out of your mind, your mind wandered back to pondering the new project you had been assigned - the dating simulator. Idea after idea had been proposed for the characters, but not a single one stuck. Everyone was at a standstill until he came along. A breathtaking blessing, just like he was now. Silence settled like snow, only to be broken by a short hum, and Yunho taking the risk you had been wishing for.

“I… I know it has only been a few months but… I really don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Y/N,” you tilted your head as he put his hands on his lap, fingers repeatedly messing with the material of his sweatpants - his attempt to soothe himself. You, on the other hand, were oddly calm. Simply waiting for the events to unfold and for you to embrace them with the fullest heart. While he was searching for the right words to say, you placed a hand over his, waking him from rumination. A weak smile was replaced by determination, truth spilling from his soul.

“I like you too much. Really. I would not be able to keep my distance even if I tried.”

“Well I think you are a bit too far away right now, Yun,” with a wave of boldness having washed over you, you acted on instinct, leaning towards the beautiful, infinitely precious man until he could not look away, captivated by your proximity, your glimmering eyes, your acceptance.

“Huh?” the sound was barely audible, an echo lost to the tension. You ran a finger over his jawline, instantly seeing his expression darken with another reverberating, deep sensation.

“We should seal the deal, shouldn’t we?” remaining cryptic, you inched closer and closer until you could pick apart the flicks of lighter mahogany in those stunning irises - you wanted to shake your hand for having persevered to finish them in the drawing. Truly, one of a kind.

“What-”

“Oh just kiss me already-”

That phrase you did not need to tell Yunho twice. Finally catching on, he was the first to destroy the distance between you, capturing your lips with his and letting his hand find purchase in your hair, digits running through it, caressing you, guiding you into a shared rhythm. He was as sweet as vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. An intoxicating, ecstatically overwhelming daze that consumed you whole. You saw the sketches flash before you, burning one by one to fuel the desire building for Yunho, for you, for the two of you together. It felt right, it felt real. Arms over his shoulders, you allowed him to pull you into his lap, embrace you and pepper the softest kisses on your cheeks, and your neck, finding the path back to your lips. You felt more alive than ever with the electricity coursing through your newfound intimacy. Nothing existed. This universe was Yunho, and you could not be happier. Better than in any story that you or your co-workers could develop, better than in any fairytale, the oddity transformed into eternity. This was a dream you wanted to remain in for as long as you-

Saying it was hard to wake up was an understatement. Your entire body had been aching from having fallen asleep in an awkward position over your drawing tablet, you had slept past your alarms and as such had only fifteen minutes to cram getting ready and leaving for the office, and upon checking your schedule you had the ‘pleasure’ of having three more meetings being crammed into it, reducing your lunch break to what was a near null. With a sigh, you moved away from your space, dragging your tired body to your first official interaction of the day after having sat at your desk for a couple of hours, already dreading it. The new CEO - whoever they were, was the ‘I want to know all the details and be one with the teams’ type, how joyful, you wondered how long that would last. 

It was hard to find the motivation, especially after a dream such as yours. It kept on revolving in your head, pressing down on you, making you reminisce the gentle caresses, the sweet words and actions, the delightful kiss that you had managed to just have the time to experience with Yunho. You were seeing your character in an entirely new light, already having reworked some ideas for the possible special event outfits and spammed your close colleagues who were working on the storyline with some ideas about how Yunho could have even better depth and as such, engagement from prospective users. Perhaps for this meeting with authority you just needed to tap into your delusions and it would be good enough - at least they were productive for once. 

While you were setting up the presentation, the rest of your immediate team began to file in, giving you excited waves that you returned with an unprecedented warmth. Pleasant chatter, discussion of possibility, mention of just how special it was that this dating simulator game project was the one the CEO had chosen to see today… you were feeling confident. Whoever this person was going to be, you were going to give your best and-

The door opened. Heads turned. Greetings, bows - all forms of politeness that could be expressed being delivered. People standing up, while you stood up taller by the board, the title slide behind you. You raised your head, only for time to slow down and freeze entirely. Your hold on the clicker tightened, and the only person aside from you who existed at that moment was the newcomer. The CEO. Greeting others with a smile and with equally as elegant bows. Every bit the gentleman in his tailored suit, hair swept back and impeccably styled. Jeong Yunho.

This had to be some kind of joke, right? Was this a dream? The stinging remaining after you pinched your arm slapped you back into reality. No. This Yunho was definitely real. But who was the one you-... the one you started dating? The one who you were way more than colleagues or friends with? Before your mind could accelerate into panicked rumination, his gaze stopped at you, and you could sense everyone else’s attention drift to you too. You were under his spotlight. Melting under what was nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“L/N Y/N, right? I heard a lot about you,” his grin was making you dizzy, memories of his taste resurfacing and sending heat to your cheeks, giving them a light dusting of pink.

“Good things, I hope?” you managed, he chuckled, and sent you a wink before sitting down on his chair.

“The best. I am really looking forward to this,” a playful tease.

“Glad to know this.”

“I heard you made quite a few new developments, how did that happen?” you knew what he was getting at, and that made you feel secure. So it was the same Yunho. That precious Yunho who had confessed to you, the one who had come to life and was now part of yours, by some odd twist of fate had appeared in your company, and was now right in front of you, eager and in love. You smirked while twisting to check the slide one last time, well aware that his only focus ever would be you.

“Came to me in a dream.”

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[theriu]

Oh my word, you guys.

Clark Kent's glasses. What is they aren't fake.

As in. He doesn't need a prescription. But what if the glasses are prescription? Have you ever tried looking through prescription glasses that aren't yours? How wonky it is? I'd find it pretty irritating to go around all day in some that were even slightly off.

But I'm thinking about it and . . . this guy is physical perfection, basically. But he's always pretending to be an ordinary, even somewhat klutzy, human. That must be hard to maintain all the time. Having to constantly make sure you aren't TOO perfect? Always trying to find a balance of acting slightly off-kilter, even klutzy, so people would never suspect?

Maybe giving himself bad vision is a simple way to naturally handicap himself. Make him just a little more cautious and unsteady. He's still have to be careful, of course - but Clark is always super (ha) aware of his own strength. Maybe the glasses help make it a little easier, take a little of the pressure off, because they naturally give him a minor, normal weakness he doesn't have to fake?

It's a little thing, wearing wrong-prescription glasses when he could just wear non-prescription frames (and hope nobody every looked through them and questioned why he was faking). But maybe that little bit of distortion of his vision, making himself feel just slightly off-balance but in a way that he can shed when he needs to save the day . . . maybe it helps him feel a little more human.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: 3P {1}

Title: 3P {1}

Lewis Hamilton x Famous Singer Reader x Aaron Pierre

Warning: Angst, 18+ Mature Content, Language,

Words: 2.6k

Summary: “Sharing is caring”, “The more the merrier”, “Love knows no bounds”. There are so many quotes that circulate that can be tied to love and relationships. Two of the many you like happens to be “Two is better than one” and “The more the merrier”. Now it wasn’t like you particularly and purposely went out your way to collect men. That wasn’t the case at all. It’s just that there were two gorgeous faces in the sea of bodies at Coachella that you couldn’t decide which you wanted more. So you decided why choose. That was 4 months ago and now everything was much more complicated than you’d ever intended.

Note: I am the hugest advocate of the “why choose” trope and "why choose" relationships when it comes to women having more than one man (of course while being responsible and transparent). So, we are gonna have our cake and eat it too y’all. Not sure how long this will be, but I’ll write it until it isn’t fun anymore. LOL.

Note II: Do y’all know what 3P means? Hehehehehe! I guess we should thank Ms. Brittany Spears.

As always, thank you guys for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!

****NOT Edited/Proofread*** ***Slightly Interactive***

Chapter One: Break Down

"I can't share you, Y/N. I--I can't--share you with him", Aaron said.

His voice was small as if he didn't even know if he truly meant the words. You picked up something else in his voice too--pain. Another thing you picked up was his refusal to look at you. But was it refusal or something else?

You sighed softly. It wasn't like you hadn't slightly prepared yourself for this. You had. You wanted to be realistic. The likelihood of both or even one of them being okay with what you were offering was always slim. You’d tried not to allow yourself to get comfortable enough where something like this knocked you out of kilter.

"I know it's not what you want to hear and it's not what you want but I can't. I won't."

Silence. He'd drawn the line in the sand. It was a bold line too. This was him saying that this was his hard limit and no matter how he felt about you he wouldn't cross this line. He was on one side while you were on the other. It had been shaping up to be a beautiful day. The sun was out, birds chirping, the flowers were out in full fragrance and the winds were gentle. It was a beautiful Paris day. Was.

"So that's it?"

Aaron didn't speak immediately. Instead, he kept his head down, elbows on the cafe table with one hand clasped inside the other, both making one large tense fist. You could see the tension in his shoulders and practically feel the discontent rolling off him. You were disappointed by his words, but you couldn't help but feel bad for him too.

"Look at me Aaron," you said softly.

He didn't.

"Come on--please."

He clenched his hands into a tighter fist which made the veins in his hands protrude even more. You tried hard not to imagine those strong hands around you holding you close to his body. You tried even harder to not reach for those hands. Hands you'd held tens of times, hands that had so gently caressed your face, possessively cupped your ass, and even protected you from encroaching paps.

So instead of doing any of that, you laced your fingers together so right not even a wisp of air could infiltrate them, then leaned forward with your elbows resting at the edge of the table so you were now in a mirroring posture to his.

"Aaron," you whispered.

His sudden jerk back took you off guard, as did the outburst that followed, "I can't Y/N! Goddamn it! It's taking everything in me right now to say this to you. If I look at you I know your eyes will make me second guess myself and I'll be right back where I started and that's being in love with a woman who isn't only mine. Sharing the only woman I've loved--truly loved."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He'd said them out loud. There was always an air of love surrounding him and his dealing with you. Whether it was gestures to show it, presents to highlight it, thoughtful deeds to insinuate it, or passionate kisses and frenzied body groping in the dark to cement it, but never words to confirm.

Neither of you had spoken them. Now that the words hung between you, you didn't know what to say or do. Did you reach over and pat him on the back? Somehow slip your hand into his Fort Knox-like clenched hands and give them a reassuring and sympathetic squeeze? Lean forward and give him a comforting hug?

You spent so much time trying to think of the right response or reaction that you missed the window to reply or react and unintentionally catapulted this entire meetup into the proverbial toilet.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to see pictures of you with someone else? I can be scrolling through socials minding my business and bam a picture of you and him out together comes across my feed with so many comments on how good you look together. That shit sucks especially knowing you were with me maybe 2 nights ago looking just as good with me."

You lowered your eyes now, unable to hold his gaze. An emotion similar to shame washed over you and you hated it. What did you have to be ashamed about?

"Or how it feels to see you smile at him the way you smile at me? Or to sit and wonder what you are doing with him if you say the same things to him you have to me. If you let him touch you the way you let me touch you, if you're kissing on him too or something more? Do you know what it does to me when we talk and suddenly you tell me you have to go and in the back of my mind I know it's because of him? Have you ever thought of these things Y/N? Because that is all I think about. These last 4 months have been..."

Aaron released a hiss of breath as he shook his head for emphasis. Silence stretched again. Throughout his outburst, the feeling never left you and it even brought a tight knot in your throat. You swallowed for the 10th time trying to clear it but failing. Grabbing your glass, you finished the Prosecco that had been abandoned ever since he'd first spoken.

"I get it," you quietly said.

"You get it? After all of that?"

"I don’t know what you want me to say, I mean you--this whole time you--"

"I know," he interrupted.

He shook his head again then looked at you with the coldest eyes he'd ever laid on you. If looks could kill you might have been on life support right now.

A resentful smirk spread his face before he spoke again, "You did say love was messy, that it knows no mercy and only one can win never two."

Aaron scoffed then nodded. "Sometimes it lasts in love but most times it hurts instead. Ha! When you said that to me I found it so odd and cynical of you and I found that slightly cynical part of you endearing especially in this world full of blind optimism. I get it now."

You reached for his hands wanting to touch him...needing to. However, abruptly he cleared his throat loudly and then sat back in his chair somehow teleporting himself oceans away though he was still barely 6 feet from you leaving your hands now the ones in the center of the table without his.

"I wish nothing but the best for you, Y/N. You deserve everything good in this world and that includes happiness. Remember that."

He stood then walked away only to stop after a few steps and come back.

"One more thing. It doesn't have to be just 1 person winning in love, it can be 2."

You saw the pain in his eyes, the disappointment, and felt like he was pleading with you to see the truth in his words. With that, he walked away leaving you sitting there to watch his back get further and further away. As he walked away, you were surprised to feel the urge to run after him, surprised by your desire to make things right. However, once his frame disappeared in the Parisian crowd those feelings disappeared, as did the shame.

You weren't the bad guy here. You had no reason to feel ashamed. You had done all the right things. Digging into your Chanel purse for some cash, you slipped the bills under your empty glass and then walked in the opposite direction.

One of the many things your mother drilled into you and your siblings growing up was life kept going and it never slowed so while you were stopped and paused on one hiccup everyone else had gotten 10 steps ahead of you.

"Buck up buttercup," you said to yourself hearing your mother's voice rather than your own. It was something you were used to by now. You carried her voice everywhere.

The rest of your day went on as it always did, quickly. Work always was your favorite distraction and now was no different. As you sat in the creative meeting that was set up to start off the long stretch of shoots you had scheduled all for a concert you were putting on, your mind battled between focusing and drifting.

When the meeting closed and location scouting began, your group went from place to place scoping out the best places for shots and you made sure your voice was heard to be taken into consideration for the final locations. It was slightly hilarious because you had remained so quiet earlier. You hadn't spoken up to Aaron or even said half the things on your mind.

Thankfully, the hectic chaos of the day made it so you didn't really have any time for yourself to allow your thoughts to wander. You'd always preferred being busy though it made it difficult to have a real life but now you were thankful for it.

Your disappointment carried you through the day and though it wasn’t forefront for you, but during your silent moments, it all came fluttering back. When you scrolled through your phone his name was still the last contact you'd texted and that brought back memories of him.

By the time you got back to your hotel, you were ready for a bottle of wine and a bubble bath filled with every one of your favorite essential oils. When you got safely behind your doors, you wasted no time doing just that. Not even 5 minutes after you sank into the piping hot water did your phone ring with a Facetime call.

Seeing Lewis' name on your screen made a wide smile spread across your face. At least things were okay there.

"Hey you," you said as soon as you tapped the accept button.

Lewis smiled but it didn't reach his eyes like it normally did. Those same eyes looked tired and something else that you couldn't place.

"Hey, gorgeous."

"Are you okay? You look bad."

"Ha. Thanks, love."

"No not like that. You know you are always fine as fine can be, but you look off tonight."

Lewis sighed then moved sending the camera into shaking chaos. When the movement stopped, he was sitting up, back against something that looked plush and metal and showing plenty of tattooed skin.

"Just getting to bed too?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day," Lewis said rubbing the back of his neck, his braids handing around his face.

"Same. Longer than it needed to be."

He nodded as he stared at you as if he had something to say but didn’t know if he should.

"What is it?"

"I didn't expect you to be as great as you are."

You snorted and laughed. "Oh yeah? Expected me to be a bitch on wheels?"

"Funny. Not that just--different. Everyone knows you and there have been so many stories of you that everyone has their own version of you in mind and the way I thought you were made it easy, no not easy, but sensible or bearable for things to be how they have been with you--and him."

Choosing what to focus on right now, you momentarily ignored the nugget of info that sounded awfully close to him admitting he thought you were some brainless tart who was after fun, drinking, and money. Ignoring that for another conversation, your stomach dropped for the 2nd time today and you knew what was coming. It was quite possible there would be no other conversation.

"Uh-huh."

"And now that I am so great and not a nightmare?"

Lewis remained quiet for several moments and you sat there staring at the screen waiting for him to continue.

"And now...now it's not sensible and sure as hell not bearable to think about you and another man."

"I wonder if this is how your harem feels?"

Don’t start the bullshit Y/N. You know it's been months since I had anything to do with any of them"

"It was just a hypothesized assumption. You most likely just voiced what they can't because they don’t want to fall out of favor or be replaced."

"This has nothing to do with them or any of that," Lewis countered.

"Then what does it have to do with? This is coming from left field and I'm feeling pretty blindsided."

"I saw you guys today."

"What?"

"At that cafe together. There are pictures all over Daily Mail of the two of you today. Pictures of the two of you together after we texted, after you told me you were having drinks with a friend."

You closed your eyes then dropped your head back onto the stylish padded rim of the modernly luxurious freestanding tub.

"Wanna talk about blindsided now?"

The dry sarcasm in his voice was evident, "Did you want me to say I was having drinks with Aaron instead?"

Lewis hissed first, then spoke, "Shit I don’t even know. I just know I felt blindsided today and it's not the first time."

"Everyone wants to act like I am this bad guy when you knew from the beginning."

"Wow. This isn't about who is the bad...you know what never mind. He can be cool with this and your antics but--I--I can't do this anymore."

You sighed as a plethora of emotions filled you, annoyance, disappointment, sadness, anger, and hurt but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Rather than allowing each of them to blossom across your features, you steeled your face instead. More of your mother's words filled your mind.

"Don't let them see that they have an effect."

"Ok. I understand,” you said, voice even and hopefully strong.

Lewis stared at you now with a confused expression and eyes so intense it felt as if he were staring into your soul. This man and his intrusive eyes, you thought to yourself.

"You understand?"

"Yep."

He scoffed, shook his head then rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. Good luck to you and him Y/N. You--." He sighed then dropped his eyes before looking back at you. "I wish things were different, I wish I felt differently about you and that your mother's voice wasn't so loud inside your head. I hope you find happiness."

With that, the video ended, and you were left sitting in water that was piping hot a few minutes ago but was now as frigid as Scotland in December. For the second time today you'd been dumped and for the second time today you were tempted to go after another man with hopes of changing his mind, this time by calling Lewis back, but again--you didn't.

You sat there quietly for several minutes letting it all sink in. Then a hysterical laugh started, it was a laugh that came from the depths of you, making your entire being shake as it filled the room. The thought that brought it on lingered in your head making you laugh longer and longer. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet with tears, and you were winded.

"Everyone wants me to be happy because I deserve it, but no one wants to stick around and actually make me happy. How ironic. How absolutely... ridiculous."

It was all too loud right now, too loud, and too much. Slipping under the water, you allowed the world to slip away and your brain to quiet, but it didn't completely. One looping thought remained.

"Were you in fact, the bad guy?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[sleepymccoy]

Please enjoy this fairly horny spones scene I wrote last night. I'm unlikely to ever write more of it, but it's still fun

And that seemed to wrap things up.

“Mr. Spock,” McCoy said quickly, before he took the cowards way out and said nothing.

Kirk and Chapel looked at him, their expressions as curious as Spock's was blank.

“Yessir?” Spock asked.

McCoy smiled with banality. “Do you have a minute for me?”

“Ah, I have nothing pressing.” Spock looked at Kirk and raised his eyebrows for permission. “Captain?”

“Everything alright, Bones?”

“I think I have my nanoscope setting wrong,” McCoy lied. He'd prepared this lie in the last few minutes of their impromptu meeting and it flowed of his tongue easily. He grinned sheepishly. “Spock's better with this newfangled shit than I am. Not that you heard me say it.”

Kirk smirked and mimed zipping his lips shut. “Mum’s the word.” He invited Chapel to leave, muttering to her on the way out.

Spock craned his neck, peering behind McCoy. “Your nanoscope, Doctor?”

“What's wrong with you?” McCoy asked.

Spock stopped craning. “Pardon me?”

McCoy walked quickly to Spock's side and placed his hand on his forehead. Slightly warm, as usual. He looked into Spock's eyes and found his pupils dilated wide. The pulse in his throat was high.

“Doctor, what are you -?”

“You're off kilter.” McCoy slipped his medscanner out and began going over the readings. Pulse was high, temperature normal. Blood flow to his extremities was a bit low.

McCoy took Spock's hand and pressed his thumb into Spock's wrist. Spock gasped quietly. He wasn't fighting McCoy's medical attention, he must know something was wrong too. He must need help. McCoy found his pulse and compared the manual reading to the scanners results.

It was fine, slightly varied reading showed in the strengths of diastolic, but nothing to worry about. That may just be from McCoy taking the pulse at his wrist where the scanner took a body average.

“Doctor,” Spock breathed.

His temperature blinked orange. McCoy double checked that he was on Spock's settings. It hadn't been orange earlier, it had raised. “What the fuck?” McCoy muttered. It didn't make sense. He put the scanner down and dropped Spock's wrist, stalking back over to his desk.

Returning to face Spock he found him rubbing his own wrist, where McCoy's thumb had been pressed.

“C’mere,” McCoy ordered absentmindedly as he cleaned the thermometer he'd pulled from his desk drawer. He cleaned it after use, of course, but he always cleaned it beforehand anyway.

Spock staggered forward. Flushed skin, pupils wide, flakey pulse, and now a high temperature?

“How are you feeling?” McCoy asked.

“This is unnecessary,” Spock whispered. He stopped closer to McCoy then he usually would. Was his balance off? He had been walking weakly.

“Unless you're going to volunteer matters to me, it's completely necessary.”

McCoy held Spock's chin between his finger and thumb and eased his mouth open. “Lift your tongue.”

Spock did so, and McCoy slipped the thermometer in. Spock groaned, then winced and shut his eyes as McCoy gently closed his mouth around the thermometer.

Briefly, a theory presented itself. Based in drunken memories, hot nights shared at conference weekends or diplomatic missions away. The sound Spock made when undone, wrapped around McCoy and perfectly willing to express just how much more he wanted.

It wasn't something he and Spock did on the Enterprise. No, it was saved for shoreleaved where they happened to run into one another, or unexpected nights in hotels as the ship was repaired.

Never here, with no excuse, no separation. Hell, right now they were both on duty. It wouldn't be.

Unless it was-

No, even if Spock was, heaven forbid, turned on, the fact of that was a symptom not the cause.

But still a symptom worth testing. As they stood there, Spock's eyes closed, resting his weight in McCoy's hand, McCoy slid his thumb up slightly. He scratched the underside of Spock's lip. Spock’s eyes flew open at the contact, bright and alive.

McCoy hesitated, but he had good cause for his suspicion. So he pushed up and pressed his thumb to Spock's lower lip, dragging it down enough to catch a hint of teeth.

Nothing physical changed, but the energy shifted immediately. A rumble in the air and the heat from Spock's chest suddenly felt scorching. His eye contact lost that hesitant touch and McCoy felt like he was halfway to bring fucked already. The thermometer in Spock's mouth twitched and rolled.

McCoy took a deep breath. He let go of Spock's chin and removed the thermometer, checking the reading automatically. Same as the scanner, there was no instrument error.

He put the thermometer down next to them, not looking to move away from the gasping Vulcan.

“What's brought this on?” McCoy muttered.

“I-” Spock gasped. His mouth snapped with saliva. Lord, he looked desperate.

“Spock,” McCoy said quietly after Spock didn't continue to speak.

Spock groaned, an echo of his most intimate sounds, and swayed forward. McCoy caught his arms, repositioning himself to keep Spock standing.

Well, this was at least concerning enough that anyone looking in would assume a medical need.

“What's going on?”

“It is perfectly natural,” Spock said, his mouth my McCoy's ear, his breath hot.

“Pon farr?” McCoy guessed. The timing was off, but half Vulcan, who knew?

“Not so serious, merely an inconvenience.” Spock's chest heaved. “I apologise, it is unprofessional of me.

McCoy laughed despite himself. “Sure is,” he admitted. He swung Spock around so he was sitting on the edge of McCoy's desk. He leaned past him to get his med scanner but on the way Spock turned in towards him. Slightly too hot lips pressed against McCoy's neck in a simple kiss.

McCoy waited a moment, let Spock kiss him, then stood up straight. He began scanning, focusing instead on hormonal imbalance. If there was anything dangerous, anything spiking in an alarming way, he wanted to know. Horny was one thing, Pon farr was another.

McCoy did not meet Spock's eyes, but from his focused gaze on the scanner read outs he could see Spock's chest heaving.

“Is it need or want?” McCoy asked.

Spock took a deep breath. “I need to orgasm,” he said quietly. “I want you.”

He was barely reading the bloody scanner. And he was standing too close, Spock's knees pressed against the outside edge of his thighs. “Do you-” McCoy felt slightly breathless, just slightly dizzy. Fuck, he was meant to be working. He clamped down on his writhing gut, his eager hips.

“Ah, would anyone do?” McCoy asked. And, mercy, his voice had deepened. He wasn't just turned on, he was communicating it.

Spock didn't point it out, but his attention shifted. His eyes dragged heavily down McCoy's face, his throat, to his hands. “If you do not wish to have me,” Spock said, his voice dripping with honeyed meaning, “I would rather my own fist than any other.”

McCoy went to speak but his voice had dried up. He cleared his throat, then cleared his throat again. The sound snapped him out of it slightly, even if he had pressed his thighs against Spock's knees as he spoke. Fuck, he was used to Spock playing hard to get until they were near a bed. Or at least near some furniture to bend over. This eager man was quite different.

“Ah,” McCoy said wildly. He looked around his office, trying to find meaning in something he saw. A clock. Four-thirty. “I'm off in an hour and a half.”

Spock blinked, then leaned back. When had he leaned forward? It was hot. McCoy took a step away.

“I will meet you,” Spock said.

McCoy fixed his shirt and tried to smile at Spock. Spock stood, shakily, and met his gaze with customary dourness.

“You're sure it's natural, Spock?” he asked.

Spock nodded once. “It is lunar.”

“Right.”

McCoy looked at the instruments across his desk and ignored Spock as he left. Jesus, time to see how long ninety minutes can take.

[fanfoolishness]

A New Fascination

Tech isn't sure why Phee fascinates him so, but when she tells him about an intriguing creature by the shore, he takes a chance to further investigate things. Fluff, the teensiest hurt/comfort, long conversations, and several firsts all wrapped in a bow; TechPhee and a little bit on Tech & Crosshair. Canon-compliant, set after Pabu. 8100 words.

---

Tech sat in the boughs of the great weeping maya tree, recording sounds.  Omega’s morning flying lesson had been bracing, her inexperience and bravado combined nearly enough to cause him to ponder his own mortality, and now that they were safely back on solid ground he thought he would focus on less potentially deadly pursuits.  

He always cataloged new sounds as he came across them, but the challenge came in when they were layered and stacked and interlaced with each other.  Wingbeats of the fluttering jeweled finches were swallowed up by the sounds of their vocalizations, mixed with rustling leaves and the voices and footsteps of passersby.  His datapad did a fine job of sorting things on a cursory level, but it often required manual input for greatest accuracy.  Up here, higher above the colonnade, the sounds were crisper and easier to parse.  

He had pleasantly lost himself in this pursuit for some time when a voice broke through his focus.

“Didn’t take you for much of a climber, Brown Eyes.”

He lifted the visor up with its stream of data, peering down at her through his goggles, the leaves, and the afternoon shadows.  She stood ten feet below, shading her eyes and gazing up at him.  

“It is the best area from which to collect direct recordings of the local avians.  The jeweled finches, particularly.”  

She sat on the large bough beneath him, grinning.  “Sure you don’t want to listen to them from down here?”

Tech frowned.  The recordings would contain more interference and ambient sound the further away he was from the canopy the birds frequented.  However, coming down would provide a better opportunity for conversing with Phee.  And Phee was fascinating in her own right.

He paused.  He had not yet determined why Phee so fascinated him, but she did.  His initial hypothesis had been that her treasure hunting, or “liberation” as she colorfully put it, required a wide subset of skills, an ability to quickly adapt, and a nimble intelligence.  That was certainly part of it.  But he had met many intelligent and skilled people throughout the galaxy, his brothers, certain reg clones, people like Romar, and none of them had inspired this type of interest from him before.

He had considered pheromones as a possible trigger, though human pheromones were significantly weaker and less effective than those of many other species.  He could not discount them, though, or how else could he explain the way he enjoyed being near her for no apparent reason?

“You coming?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said determinedly, climbing down.  He sat beside her and she gave him a bright smile, tilting her head to one side.  It was a smile that was full, easy, beaming.  It was new, having such a smile frequently directed at him, but it was… very nice.  

Of course, he had also considered the fact that she was objectively beautiful.  Warm brown eyes, a musical laugh, luxurious hair, a sleek and strong figure… he was not blind to these things, and appreciated them as he would any source of beauty.  He simply wasn’t used to appreciating beauty in the form of a curious and clever person who seemed to appreciate him, too.

Perhaps that was why he always felt slightly off-kilter near her.

His datapad chimed, finishing its collation of data.  He took off his helmet and set it beside him, then hunched his shoulders to get a better look at the screen.  He needed to sort the information he had gathered before it became less fresh in his mind.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, scooting closer so that she could lean over his shoulder, nearly touching him.  His heart beat more quickly.

“Samples of the finches, separated out from the sounds of the weeping maya, the wind, and the marketplace,” Tech said.  “I find it engrossing work.”

“What are you saving the recordings for?”

“For?”  Tech pondered the question. While there had been times his recordings had been extremely helpful on missions - Skako Minor came to mind as a particularly memorable instance - most of the time the data was simply stored, saved carefully where it could be retrieved at a moment’s notice.  “I enjoy collecting sounds.  It could be considered a hobby.”

Phee chuckled, apparently surprised by his statement.  “I like that.  Everyone needs a hobby.  And I, of all people, understand collecting things.”  She looked out at the busy marketplace, concentrating as if listening.  “You know, Pabu’s got its share of interesting wildlife.  Do you like nature sounds the most?  Or any sounds?”

“All sounds are interesting,” said Tech, raising his eyes from his datapad to look over at her briefly.  She was looking at him with curiosity, her full attention focused on him.  He quickly turned back to his datapad.  “Machinery generates patterns that can easily form a type of music.  Battle sounds are both highly varied and highly predictable, depending on the situation.  Natural sounds provide some of the most unique samples, though.  Animals with different vocal apparatuses and anatomy can produce a nearly infinite variety of sounds.  Some are not even made with mouths.  Have you ever heard the sound of a winnowing wood-snipe from Batuu?”  

“No, I can’t say that I have.  I’ve been to Batuu a few times, but only to the outpost,” Phee said.  “It wasn’t exactly crawling with wood-snipes, whatever those are.”

Tech quickly found the pertinent file and played it.  Ghostly, high-pitched twittering emitted from the datapad in waves.  Phee looked intrigued.

“That wasn’t an animal call?”

“No.  It was created by small, uniquely-shaped feathers at the base of the bird’s tail.  When soaring and diving, the airflow creates these noises,” said Tech.  Reading of the bird’s description beforehand had not fully prepared him for the startling nature of its sounds.  “There are thousands of such examples of unique adaptations across the galaxy.”

“Hey, now that’s all right,” Phee said, nodding, clearly impressed.  “I would’ve never guessed that wasn’t a song.  Not sure there’s anything quite like that here, but there’s still some interesting wildlife, especially down near the shore.  I remember Shep telling me about some creature that sings near the caves.  Want me to get some more info and get back to you?”

Tech paused.  She did not need to bother herself.  “I could also ask Shep, if you are busy.”  It did sound interesting.

“Suit yourself,” Phee said, “but I don’t mind asking as a favor.”  She smiled again, then clapped a hand against his shoulder.  Her touch was brief, but electric.

Ah.  She wants to do it.  He nodded, not wishing to discourage her.  “If you would like to find out more information, I… would be grateful.”

Another of those bright, beaming smiles.  He tried one back, though it was nowhere near as wide and carefree.  She nodded, looking pleased.  “I’m on the case.”  She swung her legs off the bough, slipping back down to the ground, and waved goodbye.  “See you around, Brown Eyes.”

---

She found him the next morning attempting to clean up after some much-needed repairs to the Marauder.  Another flying lesson with Omega had been… bracing.  He sat amidst a pile of spanners and tools, covered in engine grease, sorting the tools to put away when he wasn’t distracted by the sounds of the finches.  There was a new vocalization he could hear -- perhaps young birds begging to be fed -- and he had left his datapad inside.  He switched on the auxiliary recording function on his goggles, making a note to import and analyze the sounds later.

“In the middle of something, I see.  Those flying lessons out there looked a little rough this morning,” Phee said, casting an eye over the tools strewn around him.

“Omega is still mastering the concept of incline control,” Tech said.  “It’s creating some extra wear and tear on the engine, but nothing I cannot repair.”

“Never doubted that.”  She dropped down to squat beside him, idly picking up a spanner.  “That’s a solid one.”

“Standard Republic issue.  I have since seen some of the Imperial repair kits, and they are inferior, clearly turned out quickly to keep costs down.”

“Sounds like the Empire all over,” Phee said, sighing.  “Quantity over quality.  I guess you’d know all about that.”

Tech nodded.  The Empire had discarded the clones similarly, of course.  

“So, I talked to Shep about this creature.  He said it’s something the people here call a sea ghost.”

Tech made a face.  “A rather whimsical name.”

“Not much for whimsy?” Phee asked, looking amused by his response.

“It is not remotely descriptive,” Tech complained.  “Is it mammalian?  Avian?  Some type of cartilaginous or bony fish?  ‘Sea ghost’ does not give us any indication as to what kind of creature could be expected.”

“Well, I’m guessing it lives by the sea with a name like that,” Phee laughed.  

Tech gave her a look.  She had him there.

“He said it lives down near the northwest cove, whatever it is,” she continued.  “It goes out to sea sometimes but often comes back to sing in the caves.  He said its song is supposed to be hauntingly beautiful.  Hence the ‘ghost.’”

“If it sings in the caves, it may be taking advantage of the area’s natural acoustics,” Tech mused.  “Is it sentient?” 

“Not exactly, I think.  More like a wise animal is how he described it.  People here used to tell stories about it, long ago.”

Tech wiped his hands off on his thighs, smearing the fabric with oil as he got to his feet.  “Well, I am game to search for this creature if you are.  Give me a few moments to gather these up and we may go.”  Hunter’s intense aggravation the last time Tech had left his repair work for later would be an irritating way to start such a promising day, and he had no intention of letting that distraction interfere.

“You want me to come?” Phee asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly smile.  “Not Shep?  He’s actually seen it, you know.”

“Shep may be best suited to finding the creature,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles.  “But I am asking you because I would like for you to be there.”

He hoped he had not miscalculated.  He thought that it was what Phee had been intending all along, that this would be a time for the two of them to be alone during an enjoyable and interesting activity, but for a moment, he was unsure.  It was one thing to calculate his own thoughts, responses, plans.  It was quite another to attempt to guess what Phee might desire.  He swallowed, watching her closely, hoping he had read the situation appropriately --

She grinned.  “Why, Brown Eyes, I thought you’d never ask.”

---

They took the winding stairs down to the beach, passing islanders as they went.  Several nodded or said hello to Phee, and a few said hello to him as well, perhaps remembering their efforts from the night of the sea surge a few weeks ago.  Tech nodded to them as they passed, surprised they remembered him.  He commented on it to Phee.

“You and your brothers don’t exactly blend in,” she said.  “You might all be clones, but here you’re the new kids in town, and that makes you easy to remember.”  

“I suppose that would be the case in a place with a relatively small population,” Tech said.  “It is still unexpected.”

They rounded a corner and ran into Hunter, Wrecker and Omega, carrying woven bags of foodstuffs and supplies.  “Tech!  Phee!” Omega said.  “We’re going to try some new recipes for lunch.  Are you coming back up?”

“Recipes?” Tech asked.  “None of us has ever shown any aptitude at cooking.”

“We’re going to try,” Hunter said heavily.  He appeared dismayed at the prospect.  “Wrecker’s promised to eat anything that goes horribly wrong.”

“It’ll be a sacrifice, but I’ll make it happen,” Wrecker said.  He narrowed his eyes, looking between Phee and Tech.  “You two going somewhere?”

“Phee has informed me there is a creature with an unusual song that visits near the beach,” said Tech.  “We are going to investigate.”

A wide, eager smile stole over Wrecker’s face, and he was about to speak until Hunter elbowed him subtly in the side.  He closed his mouth again.  “Uh, that sounds nice,” he said.  

Tech was certain that had not been what he was originally going to say.

“Good luck,” Hunter said, giving them an odd look that Tech did not know how to interpret.  “If there’s leftovers later, you’re welcome to try them.”

“But Hunter,” Omega asked, “wouldn’t you be able to help them track the creature?”

Hunter paused, searching for words.  “Ah, they don’t need my help, Omega.  And I promised I’d help you with this recipe of yours.  They’ll be fine without us.”

“We appreciate the vote of confidence,” Phee said.  “Bye, boys.  See you, Omega.”

“Bye, Phee!  Bye, Tech!”

Phee and Tech continued down the stairs.  “That’s cute,” Phee said.

“What is?”

“Wrecker wanting to tease you about me, and Hunter trying to play it cool,” she laughed.  “Reminds me of my cousins growing up.  They used to tease each other mercilessly.  Especially if there was a boy or girl involved.”

“Wrecker often attempts jokes at my expense,” said Tech.  “Though… this is certainly the first time a ‘girl’ has been involved.”  He felt a flicker of warmth in his cheeks, that funny sense of being wrongfooted that he seemed to only feel around Phee.

“I thought that might be the case,” Phee said.  She turned to him, laying a hand on his arm and keeping him from descending the next flight of steps.  “Look, Tech -- I think it’s clear we like each other.  Right?”  One of those warm, sunny smiles again.  He nodded at her, feeling slightly lightheaded.  “But if this is all new to you, I don’t mind taking our time, you know?  You’re worth doing this right.”

His mouth seemed incredibly dry.  With a great effort he swallowed, managing to find enough saliva to speak again.  “I -- I will take that under advisement.”

Phee snorted.  “Glad to hear it.”  She nodded towards the last set of stairs.  “Come on, we’re nearly there.  Let’s go find this ghost.”

---

The path to the cove was hidden and cunning, half-covered by tidewaters or stretches of exposed seagrass.  Tech thought that even Hunter would have had a difficult time picking his way through the stretches of rocks, sand and shallow water.  Phee led him through a narrow cleft in the rocky wall, both of them forced to turn to the side and creep through, hands scraping the rocky surface.  At one point Phee’s hand brushed his, and she paused for an instant before she pressed forward once more, to Tech’s disappointment.  He would have liked it had her hand lingered.

She led him around a bend and a large pool of gently lapping waves, sheltered from the main beach, lay before them.  Beyond that Tech could see the entrance to a cave, carved out from the rocky walls as if by invisible hands.  Phee stared appraisingly at the pool.

“We’re going to have to wade for it,” she said.  “Shep said with most low tides this water’s receded, but some are lower than others.  Guess we got lucky.”

Tech nodded, sitting down in the sand to pull off his boots.  While they were water resistant, they had not been designed for complete submersion, and he did not relish the idea of walking the return path in soaked boots and footwear.  That had been troublesome enough after the underground river on Ipsidon.  

He peeled off his socks and rolled up his blues to his knees.  At least his datapad was waterproof, so that would not be a problem.

Phee pulled off her own boots, then removed her jacket and blouse, revealing a skin tight sleeveless shirt in a pretty blue color.  She folded up her clothing and stuffed it into the bag she had brought.  He gazed at her bare shoulders, her toned arms, the curve of her breasts and waist, until he heard the sound of a throat clearing.  “Ready to go?” Phee asked, with a look on her face that suggested she knew he had been staring at her, and didn’t mind.

He turned away, nodding.  “Yes.  I’m ready.”  

He followed her into the pool.  The water was warm and gentle, a perfect temperature when combined with the soft cool breeze blowing in from the sea.  It came up to his knees, then his thighs, then past his waist.  Phee waded beside him, one hand holding her bag safely above the water, the other swirling random patterns in the surface of the water with every step.

“Ever do much swimming?” she asked as they made their way through the pool.

“Swimming proficiency was mandatory for all clones,” said Tech.  “Kamino is a waterbound world and it would be laughable to fail to instill swimming skills in that setting.  There were also special clone commando units with additional training in underwater operations, though our squad had only cursory training in that department.”  He paused at the look on her face.  “But yes, I am an adequate swimmer.  It is not my specialty.”

“You’re like me.  Flying’s really where we shine, right?,” said Phee, wading towards the shore.  The cave’s entrance rose up before them, and Tech could see the reflections of blue and white from the water’s surface painting the walls of the cave.  “But I can swim if I need to.  Once I had to retrieve an artifact from a Naboo battlefield over an old Gungan settlement.  Place was boobytrapped to high heaven with battledroids, but not in the water.  Turned out the droids were the least of my worries.  You ever been to Naboo?”

“No,” said Tech.  “There were no clones in service during the battles on Naboo.  Kaminoan production only began in earnest shortly after that time.  My brothers and I had not yet been designed, let alone decanted.” 

Phee shook her head.  “Clone aging… that’s still a hard one to wrap my brain around.”

Tech shrugged.  “We age at roughly double the rate as unaltered humans.  It is simply a fact of life for us.”

Phee was quiet for a moment, a hint of something sad behind her eyes.  Her mouth twisted to one side.  Then she shook her head again, and continued.  “Well, anyway -- Naboo’s a nice place. If it wasn’t for the Empire, I’d say you should try to visit sometime.  But avoid going underwater, there are some freaky things down there, and I don’t mean the Gungans.  Nearly got eaten by five different giant creatures.”  She shuddered.  “Got the artifact, though, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“I am glad you were not eaten,” said Tech.  “It sounds as if it would be most unpleasant.”

She reached the shore, climbing up but slipping for a second on a rock.  Tech closed the distance between them, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her shoulder.  She refound her footing and clambered up, turning back to him with a grateful smile.  “Thanks.” 

He followed her up, water dripping down his legs, running in rivulets down his feet.  Phee was just as wet, her clothing clinging to her in a way he quite liked.  He turned his attention back to the cave, listening closely.

“I do not hear anything.”

Phee screwed up her face in concentration.  “Me neither, but it might be in deeper.  This cave system goes in for a little ways.  I don’t feel like getting deep into spelunking for this, but there might be something in one of the near chambers.”  

She carefully picked out a path on the rocky shore as they entered the cave.  There was a narrow spit of rocks encircling the water, and they climbed atop this, looking down into the water below for signs of movement.  Light dancing on the water’s surface helped to light the cove, as did glimmers of sunlight peeking in from up above them through small gaps in the rocky ceiling.  They were quiet for a few moments, concentrating on their footing and the gradually dimming light within the cave.

Phee was surefooted, leading the way without hesitation, occasionally pausing only to study the water beneath them.  He watched the water too, but his attention was divided between the gently lapping waves and Phee herself.  She moved with an easy elegance that was intriguing; long graceful neck shifting to allow her a better view, hands held out to her side to steady herself, legs balancing adroitly on the uneven rocks.  He followed in her footsteps, occasionally startled when he noticed her looking back at him with a similar focus.  

The light dimmed further, and up ahead was largely darkness.  She stopped her, sitting down on a rocky outcropping and resting her arms on her legs.  She gave him a nod, and he sat down beside her at the invitation.

“Seems like as good a place as any to wait,” she said.  

“What else do we know of this creature?”

“Not much,” Phee said.  “Last I checked, Pabu doesn’t have a marine biologist, and it’s not exactly a place that’s been extensively studied.  One of the disadvantages of being so out of the way.”

“I could change that,” said Tech thoughtfully.  “If we’re to spend more time here, I would like to continue learning about the local ecosystem and culture.”

“I think you might be the most curious person I’ve ever met,” Phee said quietly.  “I like that about you.”

“I have never understood a lack of curiosity,” he said.  “There is so much to learn and understand in this galaxy.  I could never begin to come close to learning all of it, but I would like to try.”  He smiled.  “You, of course, also seem to be a very curious person.  I… like that about you, too.”  

She smiled brightly at him.  Her brown eyes glinted with the dappled blue and white light reflecting off the water.  She leaned in, listening to him.

He wondered, suddenly, what it might be like to kiss her.

“I guess I’m just a curious soul,” Phee murmured.  

His heart seemed to be beating rather faster than normal, and he searched for something to say.   “You have asked me a great many questions about myself, for example.”

She laughed quietly, the sound echoing sweetly off the water and the walls.  “I’ve just never met anyone like you before.  You’re one of a kind, Brown Eyes.”

Perhaps she was teasing him.  He leaned back, shaking his head.  “That is blatantly incorrect. While I am unique in being a genetically modified clone, I am still one of millions --”

She reached out, fingertips brushing his cheek, her touch feather soft.  “No.  There’s no one like you, Tech.”

Oh.

He stared into her eyes, frozen.

And then he heard it, faint in the distance, coming closer.  A sound, haunting, beautiful, delicate piping layered with echoes of reflected notes building upon each other.  Phee dropped her hand, focusing intently as Tech quickly pulled out his datapad and started recording.

“The ghost, there --” Phee started, pointing past him.  He reached out quickly and took her hand, holding it closely within his own.  She turned back to him and he made a shh gesture with his free hand.  She nodded, staying quiet and still as the creature swam into view.

A pale gray shape skimmed the water’s surface, its form rounded, plump and smooth-skinned.  As it drew closer Tech realized the dappling on its back was not only due to the reflections in the water, but also due to speckles of white and darker gray spotting its skin, crisscrossed with the shapes of faint scars.  The creature was sirenian in nature; he remembered a similar manatee-like animal that had swam and played in the pooled waters of the vast wroshyr root system on Kashyyyk.  But the alshyyyr of Kashyyyk had had no voice like this.

Phee leaned in close to him, her bare shoulder brushing against his, and he realized he was still holding her hand.  His focus shifted from the fluting calls filling the cavern and back to Phee.  Her face held a look of wonder as the ghost sang, its ethereal music resonating with the water and the stone, but that had fallen into the background for Tech.  

Phee’s hand was soft in his, but strong; his thumb glided over her knuckles, the back of her hand, mapping fine hollows and ridges, tracing small old scars.  She gently squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, marveling at how such a small motion could be so engrossing.  

She nudged him, slightly, and he looked back up at her.  “Sea ghost, remember?” she whispered, winking.

Tech nodded, gazing back at the ghost and its sweet singing.  He closed his eyes to listen to the music, alien, haunting, singular.  He was grateful they had found it, and glad that he was recording it to analyze and assess later.  Of course he should be studying the animal after their work to get here.  

But Phee’s hand in his fit perfectly.  He liked holding it.  Liked touching her.  This new thing between them, smiles and stories and laughter and touches, was truly what he had come here to investigate, and the sea ghost, lovely as it was, took a distant second in his concentration.  He could not explain it, even to himself; it was confusing.  It was new and strange.

It was mesmerizing.

---

They listened to the music of the sea ghost for nearly an hour before the dappled gray creature dipped below the water and vanished into the dark.  They waited for a few more minutes, but at last Phee turned to him and said, “I think it’s taken its leave.  We should probably go too, before the tide comes in further.”

Tech nodded, turning off his datapad and slipping it back into its pouch.  He felt a little disappointed at seeing the creature go; though how much of that was due to the ghost’s departure, and how much of it was due to the fact that this moment between him and Phee would end?

They made their way back along the rocks, Phee following along behind him.  His bare feet gripped each rock tightly.  It was slick along here as the tide had begun to come in and water had splashed on the rocks.  He picked out his path carefully while he led them back to the mouth of the cave, deep in thought.  

He narrowed his eyes as they stepped out of the cave.  The sun was now in full afternoon brightness, and even with the adaptive settings on his goggles it was still difficult for his eyes to adjust after the dark quiet of the cave.  

“Phew,” she said, rubbing her eyes.  “It didn’t seem that dark while we were in there, but that is intense.”

He turned to her once the brightness of the sunlight no longer forced him to squint.  “Thank you for coming with me.  I would not have been able to find this on my own.”  

“Everything you were hoping for?” Phee asked, crossing her arms.  “I have to say, that was some concert we were treated to.”

“I am looking forward to analyzing the recordings of the sea ghost,” said Tech.  He turned to her, smiling faintly.  “But I also enjoyed spending this time with you.”

Her face creased in a grin.  “Me too, Brown Eyes.  This getting to know you thing?  It’s all right.”  She waded into the deep pool between the cave and the rest of the shore, the water rising up to her chest.  He followed her, the warm water rising up past his waist within a few steps.  “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure at first if you were interested.  And I didn’t want to scare you off if this was all new for you.”

“It is new,” Tech admitted, taking another step behind her.  “But that is not a problem.  It is very intriguing.”  He hesitated.  “You are intriguing.  And… I wish to learn more, if that is also what you want.”

He reached out, and took another step --

Pain.  Blinding, searing, lancing pain shooting up his right foot and leg.  He groaned and stumbled, falling forward, the water closing over his head.

“Tech!”  There was a frantic scramble of limbs and splashing of water, and after a few confused, agonizing moments he realized he was back on the sand, Phee kneeling beside him and pulling something out of his foot.  “Ahh, kriff, you stepped on a shore urchin.  That would do it!”  She tossed away a shard of bright purple material.  “How’s it feeling now?”

Tech blinked, his head swimming, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the sting or from Phee’s look of concern.  He tried experimentally to move his leg.  The pain was receding, leaving a buzzing, prickling sensation rolling up and down his foot and shin.  He stared down at the leg, realizing that the right foot was already approximately twice the size of the left.  

“Ah,” he said sagely.  “It seems to be venomous.  Fortunately, the venom also seems to have an anesthetic component.  The blinding pain has stopped and I can no longer feel my foot at all.”  He let out a long hiss of breath, trying and failing to wiggle his toes.  

“Well, I gotta love the optimism,” Phee said, her face a mixture of amusement and worry.  “I know it looks bad, but it’s not serious.  Your foot’s gonna blow up like a puffer pig for a day or two, but it’ll be all right.   Happened to me once.”

“Really?” Tech asked.  The knowledge did bring a small measure of comfort.

Phee gave him a guilty look.  “No, I was just trying to make you feel better.  But hey.  I really have heard of people stepping on these things and being fine.”

Tech reached up, disengaging his goggles to wipe them on his shirt.  He squinted up at her.  “This is an inauspicious end to our afternoon together, unfortunately.”  He slipped his goggles back into place, blinking.  

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Phee chuckled.  “We still need to get you back in one piece.  I have a feeling your family would have strong words for me if I left you here for the birds.”

“The gulls would not be interested in me unless I had already died,” Tech pointed out.  “I am far too large to register as a prey item for this species.”

“Ahhh, there’s that charm,” she said.  “Here.  Let’s get you situated.”  She pulled her bag over her head.  It was now soaking wet, which Tech realized must have happened when she dove in after him.  She reached in and pulled out a spare kerchief, similar to the blue one she wore most frequently, and wrung it out until it was no longer sopping.  She carefully bandaged his right foot, which scarcely resembled the left.  It was now mottled an unappealing red, white and purple, though at least the anesthetic properties of the venom were holding.

She gathered their shoes they had left in the sand, putting his right boot into her bag.  He wiped as much of the sand from his foot as he could before jamming the left boot back on.  It was going to be an uncomfortable walk up the stairs, he wagered.  But at least he would be in good company.

“All right.  Let me help you up.”  She held out a hand, bracing herself in the sand, and got him up.  She pulled his arm over her shoulders.  It was a very pleasant sensation having her so close, his arm draped over her shoulders, her arm slid around his waist.  It would have been better without the prickling-numb swollen foot he was dragging, however.

“It is a shame we had to sever ties with Cid,” Tech mused.  “There was no chance to retrieve AZI-3 from her bar before coming here to Pabu.  He would have been particularly helpful in a time like this.”

Phee nodded, beginning to walk, going slowly so that he could hop along with her.  “Well, I don’t think she’d be all that happy to see you if I brought you back there.  But there’s first aid options here.  Old Namira’s got a pretty good setup at her place for minor wounds and injuries, we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you for the support,” Tech said, focusing on keeping his balance in the sand.  “It is a pity it was my right leg that was affected.  The left is still slightly weaker after I fractured it earlier this year.”

“Omega was telling me about that,” Phee said, concerned.  “That must have been painful.  Rough year for you, huh?”

“It was unpleasant,” Tech said.  “Femoral fractures are intensely painful.”  He shrugged, taking another hopping step, his left leg sliding in the sand.  Phee stabilized herself against him, compensating for the uneven terrain.  “Between AZI’s ministrations and the increased healing abilities of clones, I was only disabled for a matter of weeks.  It was still not something I am eager to repeat.”

“Do all clones heal quickly?” Phee asked as they finally reached the first staircase.  

“Yes, it is something we share with the regs.  A sublimely useful modification by the Kaminoans, particularly for soldiers,” Tech said.  They took the first step, and Tech winced as his dangling foot accidentally hit the first step. It gave a peculiar burst of sharp yet muted discomfort before fading back into numbness.  He gave it an appraising look.  “It appears to be swelling even more.”

“You good?  Or do you need a rest before we start heading up?  We can take a breather.”

“I’m all right.  Let’s continue,” he said, adjusting his arm so it lay more evenly across her shoulders.  Their cheeks brushed, and he swallowed.  His senses buzzed, each small touch from Phee electrifying.  This close he could smell her hair if he turned his head, and he caught the scents of a rich woody oil and the flowers of the weeping maya tree.  It was intoxicating.  He shook his head, trying to redirect his thoughts.  

“You’re right,” she said, wincing.  “It is getting bigger.  I’m sorry, Brown Eyes.  Not how I thought the day was going to go.”

“One never knows what hazards may be encountered in the wild,” Tech said.  “It reminds me of something that happened to my brother.  That was an insect envenomation and not an echinoderm encounter, but it triggered an intense hypersensitivity reaction.  Not only did his hand swell up, he broke out in hives everywhere.  Of course, he kept insisting he was fine -- up until his eyes threatened to swell shut.”

“Oh dear,” Phee said as they reached the next flight of stairs, breathing a little harder from the exertion.  She readjusted her arm around him, pulling him closer.  “Let me guess, Wrecker?”

“No, Crosshair,” he said.  He could still recall Crosshair ripping off his helmet to reveal an appalling urticaria over his entire face, his eyes swelling until they could only see narrow slits, his hand barely able to bend over the butt of his Firepuncher, let alone pull a trigger.  “Luckily, a few antihistamine injections were all we needed to reverse the effects.  We knew that he would make a full recovery when he began complaining again.”  

“Hang on,” said Phee, pausing.  “Who’s Crosshair?”

Tech turned to her in surprise.  “We have not spoken of him?  ….No, we have not.”  He looked up at the stairs above them, then at Phee, still breathing hard.  “Here.  We should rest a moment.”

She helped him get down to a sitting position on the stairs, then sat beside him and lifted his leg to rest it on her lap, keeping it elevated.  She rested one hand loosely on his knee, another electrifying touch.

“That’s better,” she said.  “Only… fifteen more flights to go.  We got this.”  She laughed.  “But come on, who’s Crosshair?  Another brother?  You don’t talk about him.  None of you do.”

“No,” Tech said.  “Hunter prefers not to.  Wrecker and I do speak a little of him, sometimes; Omega would speak more of him, but she was only able to spend a small amount of time with him.  He is our other brother, but as you have seen he is no longer with us.”

Phee covered her mouth with her hand, her brown eyes soft with pity.  “He died?  Oh, Tech, I’m so sorry.”

Tech’s eyes widened, and he adjusted his goggles hastily.  “What?  No, he is alive.”  He amended that statement, as he could not be certain of the veracity of it.  “Or, we hope he is.  He has chosen to remain with the Empire.”

“Oh.”  Her voice and her face shifted, a hint of coldness coloring her expression.  It looked out of place on her.  “Sorry to hear it.  I guess that’s why you don’t talk about him.”

Tech frowned.  He knew how Hunter felt about Crosshair’s decisions, but he could not fully agree with Hunter’s interpretation, and it seemed somehow important to him for Phee to have a better understanding of the situation.  “It is difficult to explain,” he said.  He took a moment, focusing on what he would like to say.   

“The Empire built a failsafe into all clones as a means to control us,” he began.  “With assistance, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo and I were able to circumvent this, but Crosshair was not.  The Empire was able to use this to divide us, forcing Crosshair to do terrible things.  But at some point, he chose to no longer be controlled -- yet continued to remain with the Empire.”

“Why would he do that?” Phee asked.  “Surely he’d want to escape, especially if they were forcing him to do something awful.”  Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand.

“I believe that the things he was made to do while under Imperial control disturbed him,” said Tech.  Crosshair’s agitated behavior on Kamino, coupled with his desperation in attempting to convince them to join him, had suggested as much.  “But Crosshair is a very proud man, and most unyielding.  I suspect it caused less cognitive dissonance for him to believe he would have acted the same, with or without that control, than to accept that he had been forced into doing things against his will.  So he has remained with the Empire rather than admit the Empire, and by extension himself, has done wrong.”  He gave her a small shrug.  “That is my understanding of what has happened.”

Phee looked horrified.  “That’s terrible.”  She rested a hand on his shoulder.  “It must be difficult to feel like you’ve lost him, even though he’s still out there.”

“It is strange to know that he was once here with us, but is no longer,” Tech agreed.  “I wish he could have chosen differently.  But if he had, he would not be Crosshair.”  

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Phee asked.  “Even after all of that.”

“Yes,” said Tech.  “I thought that was obvious.”

She gave him a small, sad half-smile.  “I’m sorry.  Maybe… maybe someday he’ll come back to you.”

“It’s possible.  But it is difficult to imagine a path forward where he chooses to do so, unless he is able to change,” Tech said, looking out at the sea.  It had begun to turn reddish gold in the late afternoon light, dancing with sparkles of white reflections.  He thought of Omega, huddled in the blue dark of a cave on Ipsidon, reaching out to him for understanding.  Perhaps what he had learned that day would help Phee understand.  “Our… family… has not been the same without him.  I have not been the same.”

“You were close?” she murmured.  “Before?”

Tech nodded.  “As you may have noticed, I often have a great deal to say.  Crosshair was always an exceptional listener, no matter the subject.  That is not to say he always remained quiet -- he could be quite cutting when he wished -- but there were many times he indulged my observations without complaint, even when I was particularly… exuberant.”

“Well, that’s something the two of us have in common,” Phee said, giving him a teasing smile.  “I like your observations.”

“It has not escaped my notice.”  He smiled slightly.

“Come on,” she said, patting his leg.  “Let’s see how much further we can get before sunset.  Up and at ‘em?”

“Yes,” he said.  They continued up the stairs, one at a time.  It was not easy work to do one-legged, even with Phee’s support, and he distracted himself by telling her more about Crosshair.  He had not spoken so freely about their brother in some time, and he was surprised by how it gave him a sensation of something loosening within his chest.  It felt good.

“So what was Crosshair’s role in your squad?” Phee asked, perhaps sensing the necessity of the distraction.

“He was an exceptional marksman,” Tech explained.  “His enhancements included heightened visual acuity, improved depth perception, and the ability to calculate complex ricochets in real time.  He is not proud without reason. I am a fair shot myself, but there were times it was simply enjoyable for us all to watch Crosshair set up a difficult shot and see him execute it to perfection.”  

“I can see how that would come in handy.  You’re all impressive in action, but it’d be interesting to see how a sniper in the mix changes things up,” said Phee.  She whistled.  “I’d have hated to be up against all of you.”

“We were indeed formidable,” Tech agreed.  “Until the collapse of the Republic, we had had a one hundred percent success rate in our missions.”  He sighed.  “Of course, things have gone rather differently since then.  We have been… adrift.”

“Well, maybe this is a place where you can find solid ground,” Phee said.  “You all seem happy here.”

“We are,” said Tech.  “It is something we have been discussing.  Omega deserves a stable environment after all she has seen.”

“You do, too,” Phee pointed out.  “Your whole life has been fighting.  Maybe it’s time to find out what else is out there.”  

“There are things that are worthwhile here,” Tech said.  He paused, shifting to face her.  They were so close.  Her breath was a soft puff against his cheek.  He searched her face, taking in her sparkling gaze, fixed on him, the way her lips curved into a gentle smile.  

“Why, thank you, Brown Eyes,” she said, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Ah.

This was new.

His mind whirred with sensations.  There was Phee’s mouth on his, her lips soft, smooth, slightly parted.  There was the warmth of her cheeks pressed close to his.  There was her arm around his waist, her other arm sliding around him, pulling him closer, keeping him balanced on his good leg.  He responded in kind, arms curving around her as instinct drove him, an overwhelming desire to keep her close within his arms and simply hold her.  The blood rushed in his ears and his heart stammered, beating a rapid new rhythm.  

It was overwhelming.  It was extraordinary.

She pulled back all too soon, her brown cheeks a little pinker, her eyes dancing.  He blinked at her, then reached up and shifted his goggles, breathing rather too quickly.

“That was… fascinating,” he managed.  Was that an adequate word for everything that had just happened?  It seemed as if it did not even come close to describing the moment they had just shared.

Phee’s smile was the most dazzling he’d seen yet.  “Care to give it another try?” she asked slyly.

“Oh!” Tech said, unable to keep from grinning back at her.  “Yes, if you are amenable, I very much would.”  He leaned in, closing his eyes, and lost himself in her again.

---

It was well after sunset when they limped up the final stairs to the colonnade, both of them exhausted.  They had taken their time coming up the stairs.  While Tech’s foot was starting to look better -- the swelling had gone down by half -- it still was not easy to take the stairs up without bearing weight on his right leg.  

They had also gotten distracted, several times, by taking breaks ostensibly to rest and kissing through them instead.  

“Thank you for your, ah, assistance,” Tech said.  “It is most appreciated.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Phee said, winking at him.  “Now, how are you feeling?  Your foot’s looking better, but we could still go swing by Namira’s if you want to get it looked at.”

“I believe it will continue to improve.  If you would help me get to our ship, I will monitor it through the night,” Tech said.

“All right.  But you know I’ll be checking in on you tomorrow,” she said, squeezing her arm around him.  

“That would be most agreeable.”

They made their way to the ship beneath the rising moonlight, their pace slow and steady.  He suspected part of it was that neither of them wished to break the physical contact they shared now.  He reminded himself that she would be stopping by tomorrow.  There would be additional opportunities to spend time with her then, to learn more about her, to share more about himself.  He could not wait.

He had felt this way a hundred, a thousand times, eager to learn more and to explore and investigate a new subject.  But he had never felt this way about a person before, and he did not know what to do with this feeling except to follow it as thoroughly and as passionately as he did for all things.

They reached the Marauder and Omega bounded down the gangplank to see them, Hunter and Wrecker emerging behind her.  “There you are!  Did you find the creature?” she asked.

The creature?  

Phee nudged him in the side, and he chuckled.  So much had happened since the song in the cave he had nearly forgotten their original purpose in going to the beach.  “Yes,” he said quickly.  “I would be happy to play you its song later.  It was a most intriguing creature.  Though our expedition was not without a slight mishap.”

“Your foot!” Omega gasped.  

“Don’t tell me you broke it again,” Wrecker said, concerned.

“No, Brown Eyes here had an accident with a shore urchin,” Phee said.  “Don’t worry, it’s already looking better.  He just needs to stay off it ‘til the swelling goes down.”  She let go of him and pulled his boot out of her bag, handing it back to him.  “All right then, you take care of yourself, got it?  See you around.”  

“I… will see you too,” Tech said.  She winked again, and turned to walk away beneath the moonlight.  He watched her go until he felt Omega’s hand in his, pulling his attention back to his family.

“Come on in and get some rest,” Omega said, smiling up at him.  “If you’re hungry, we’ve got leftovers!”  Behind her back, Hunter mouthed the word “no,” shaking his head.  Tech allowed her to lead him inside, gingerly starting to put a bit of weight on his foot again as he did so.  It would be better by morning, he thought.

Omega let go of his hand as they reached the doorway, heading to the small refrigerant unit.  Hunter turned to him and said under his breath, “You can give yours to Wrecker.  Just let her down easy.  She worked hard.”  He gave Tech an odd look, then smiled.  “Hm.  Looks like you both had a good time.”  He followed Omega, stepping back into the ship.

Wrecker helped him into the ship the rest of the way.  “So… what’d you two really get up to, anyway?” he asked.  “‘Cause something about you seems different, and not just your foot.”

Tech raised his eyebrows.  “I believe that is between me and Phee, thank you.”  Wrecker stared at him, mouth falling open, so surprised he wasn’t even able to make a joke.

Tech limped back to his bunk, smiling.  There were a thousand thousand topics he could eagerly spend hours discussing, overwhelming even the most patient listener with minutiae and intricacies.  He knew he would tell the others about the sea ghost in the quiet cave, play its songs for them, extrapolate on its lineage and life cycle and habits aloud.  That he would happily share in all its detail.

But the rest -- Phee’s kisses, her hand in his, the way she had felt in his arms, her laugh, her smile -- that was something he was perfectly pleased to keep to himself.

[fruvittea]

whispers in the rain part four ✧˚ ·

— ✺ pairing: jay x reader x jake

— ✺ genre: slice of life, angst, suggestive, fluff, childhood best friend, love triangle, college au, slow burn

—✺ synopsis: jay is your childhood best friend. that’s all he will ever be. a summer with jay and his friends changes how you feel for him when jake comes into your life. and jay begins to think that was a mistake.

—✺ warnings: for this part none so far

—✺ word count: 1.4k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | …

By the time Jay returned to the table, the night had only gotten louder and livelier. The drinks kept coming, and the group was thoroughly tipsy, if not drunk. Jay joined in half heartedly, ordering another beer to dell the tightness in his chest. 

One more beer became two more. Two became three more. And by the fourth, Sunghoon gave him a concerned look. “Jay, maybe you should slow down.”

Jay waved him off. His movements sloppy. “I’m fine,” he slurred, though the wobble in his seat said otherwise. 

You glanced at him from across the table, eyebrows furrowed. “Jay, are you okay?”

“Great!” he said a little too loudly, raising his nearly empty glass. “To the best summer ever!” His words were a little off-kilter, his grin unsteady. 

Niki nudged Sunghoon. “He’s gone,” he whispered, trying not to laugh. 

Jay downed the rest of his drink before someone could stop him. When the group finally decided it was time to call it a night, Jay was swaying on his feet. 

“Alright, big guy,” Niki said, stepping up to help steady him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Sunghoon grabbed Jay’s other arm, throwing it over his shoulder as the two half-carried, half dragged him out of the bar. Jay mumbled something incoherent, his head drooping forward. 

The Uber pulled up, and it took a solid effort to get Jay into the backseat. He slumped against the door, his head lolling as Sunghood climbed in beside him, ensuring he wouldn’t accidentally topple during the ride. 

You were about to climb in too when Jungwoon gently caught you arm. His face was serious, a rare look for him. “Stay close to Jay,” he quietly, his tone firn.

You blinked, slight concern showed on your face. ‘O-of course, is he alright? He seemed off the whole night.”

Jungwon glanced at the Uber, where Jay was now mumbling something under his breath, his head resting against the window.  “He’s not good tonight,” Jungwon said. “I think…I think he needs you.” 

Something in Jungwon’s voice made your chest tighten. You nodded, climbing into the Uber and settling into the seat beside Jay. His head tilted slightly, brushing your shoulder, and you let him stay there, his warmth grounding you even as your mind raced. 

The drive back was quiet except for Jay’s occasional mumbles. You couldn’t make out most of it half formed words, a mix of your names and others. But then, just as the car slowed to a stop in front of the house, he stirred. His voice, low and hoarse, roke through the silence. 

“Y/n…” he murmured, his brow furrowing even in his sleep. “Don’t go…”

Your breath hitched. You turned to look at him, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing seep and even. 

“Did he just say her name?” Sunoo whispered Jungwon, glancing back at you with wide eyes. 

“Shh,” you muttered, brushing a strand of hair from Jay’s face as Sunghood and Niki began to pull him from the car. Jake just sat in the back watching you two, while Heesung gave him a small pat on the back before getting out of the car. 

Whatever the night had stirred in him, you weren’t sure. But as you helped guide him inside and onto the couch, one thing was clear—something about tonight had shifted between the two of you. And you weren’t sure what it meant yet. 

As the night wound down, the house fell into a comforting hum of low voices and shuffling footsteps. Jake, ever attentive guided you gently down the hallways toward his room, his hand lingering at the small of your back. The light was dim, casting a warm glow across his face, making his expression harder to read. He stopped in front of his door, turning to you with a smile that felt softer than before, almost hesitant.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he said, his voice low, nearly drowned out by faint humming of the air conditioning. His gaze locked on yours, holding you in place. “Thanks for…well for everything. You made tonight fun.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Jake leaned in. the world seemed to pause for a moment as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was soft, tender, and deliberate—long enough to make your cheeks flush and your heart stumble in your chest. 

When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours, searching for something. There was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, something unspoken that hung between you like a question he wasn’t asking out loud. For a fleeting second, it felt like he was going to say something else, something heavier, but instead, he hesitated, his smile turning bittersweet. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice steady yet layered with meaning. “Oh… and, take care of Jay, yeah? He needs someone like you.”

His words were simple, but the way he said them made your heart tighten. The way his eyes stayed on you, the faint crease in his brow, almost as if he wanted to say more. Almost as if he wanted you to choose differently. But whatever thought lingered in his mind remained unspoken. Instead, Jake stepped back, retreating into his room with a final, “Goodnight.”

The door closed slowly, as if he was reluctant to leave the moment, and you stood frozen in the hallway, replaying the subtle weight of his words. Your cheeks burned, your mind racing with thoughts you didn’t want to entertain.

Had there been something else in Jake’s gaze? A plea for something he wouldn’t voice? The warmth of his forehead kiss lingered, but so did the pang of guilt twisting in your chest. Jake had been kind and attentive, and you couldn’t ignore the spark of something growing between you. Yet, you couldn’t shake the image of Jay, drunk and vulnerable, calling your name just moments earlier.

Maybe Jake was right—Jay did need someone like you. But why did Jake’s words feel so much bigger than they seemed? Why did it feel like he was asking you for more than just to take care of your friend?

With your thoughts in turmoil, you took a steadying breath and turned back down the hallway. Jay needed you now, and that was all you could focus on—for tonight, at least.

But as soon as the spark flared, guilt followed. Your crush on Jay was still there, lingering like an old habit you couldn’t shake. Yet, here you were, standing in the hallway, your heart betraying you with its conflicted beats.

Maybe it’s time, you thought to yourself. Time to stop holding on to feelings for Jay that clearly weren’t going anywhere. He’d never shown interest beyond your friendship, and maybe Jake was right in front of you, offering something real.

Still lost in your thoughts, you made your way back to the living room, where Jay was slumped on the couch, his head lolling to the side. He was still out of it, his breathing steady but his posture completely uncooperative.

“Come on, Jay,” you whispered softly, crouching down to gently shake his shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He groaned, a sound of protest mixed with exhaustion, but he didn’t resist as you carefully helped him to his feet. He was heavier than you expected, his arm draped over your shoulders as you guided him through the house. His head lolled toward you, and his hair brushed against your cheek.

You finally reached his room, nudging the door open with your foot and maneuvering him toward the bed. He flopped onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, half on and half off the bed. You managed to adjust him enough so that he was lying comfortably, tugging his shoes off and setting them aside.

As you pulled the blanket over him, his voice broke the quiet, soft and slurred. “Y/n…”

You froze, heart in your throat. His brow furrowed, and his lips parted as though he had more to say, but the words didn’t come. He shifted slightly, settling deeper into the bed, his breathing evening out again.

A pang of something you couldn’t name—regret, longing, or maybe both—hit you square in the chest. You smoothed the blanket over him and stepped back, your gaze lingering on his peaceful face for a moment too long.

“Goodnight, Jay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned off the light and quietly closed the door behind you.

As you walked away, your thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions. Jake’s kindness and Jay’s unspoken words lingered in your mind, each pulling you in a different direction. Maybe it really was time to let go of one and embrace the other. But which one?

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

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