#so most of these nails should not be here

[miasmaghoul]

hear me out, speaking of the ghovie… what abt raindrop movie theater employees au? love u btw 🥺🫶

HIllll CRIM ILU TOOOO <3

Pls this is such a fun idea ugh. Kinda suggestive at the end, but mostly just raindrop being raindrop. :))))

"Whaddaya think makes 'em Swedish?"

Rain looks up from where he's hunched over his phone, finds Dew sitting on the counter with a baggie of Swedish Fish. He swings his feet and holds a gummy fish between two fingers, making it swim through the air. Rain can see how red his eyes are from here, and even though the air hangs heavy with with the scent of popcorn he can still smell the remnants of weed wafting from him.

"Dunno," Rain shrugs. He supposes he could look it up, but that would interrupt his valuable mindless scrolling time. There's only so much time between screenings in their dinky little theater, he has to take what he can get. "You should ask someone Swedish."

Dew hops off the counter, stretching both arms over his head. His uniform polo slides up, reveals a pale strip of skin above low-slung jeans, and Rain snaps a quick picture for future reference.

(He has a Thing for Dew's bony hips, so sue him.)

"You're no fun," Dew pouts, slouching over to Rain's side of the concession stand. He drapes himself over Rain's back, sighing heavily. The little baby hairs thay have escaped his bun tickle Rain's cheek, make his nose scrunch up.

"I'm tons of fun," he deadpans, holding up his phone and displaying an article about the mating habits of Atlantic salmon as though that proves something. Dew doesn't even glance at it, too busy snaking his arms around Rain's shoulders and nosing at his hair.

"You smell like coconuts," he giggles, woefully stoned. He sniffs at those dark curls until Rain starts to squirm, reaching back to poke him in the ribs.

"How high are you?" Rain chuckles, still tipping his head when Dew starts drifting towards his neck.

"This's what happens when you don't share with me," the blonde mumbles, chapped lips grazing Rain's throat. "I roll for two and have no self control."

Well, he's not wrong about that last part. Rain thinks back last week, when Dew had spent the night at his place. A quiet evening spent smoking and playing video games, until they were both too stoned to do anything but snuggle and watch TV. Rain had ordered them a pizza, grabbed it from the driver in a haze of smoke and set it on the couch with a quick announcement about needing to piss. He'd been gone for maybe ten minutes - most of which had been spent forgetting where he was while he washed his hands - and by the time he'd gotten back Dew had managed to scarf down six massive slices covered in pepperoni and pineapple all on his own.

"Don't I know it," Rain grumbles, reaching up to give the little guy an affectionate noogie. Dew nips at his jaw in retaliation, slinking around to Rain's front. Dew weasels his way into his lap, slinging his arms around Rain's neck with a smile. He leans in to lick at the spot he bit, and the way the ball of his tongue piercing glides over his skin makes Rain's eyelids flutter. He tosses his phone onto the counter in favor of holding the bony hips he loves so much.

"Y'know," Dew lilts, swaying in his lap, "we got some time before the next show." He scoots impossibly closer, until their chests meet and Dew can rub their noses together. Rain can feel his piercings through his shirt, and a little tingle runs through him. He slips one hand from Dew's hip to give his barely-there ass a quick squeeze, long fingers sneaking up the back of his shirt.

"We do," Rain nods, fingertips grazing the ultra soft peach fuzz at the base of Dew's spine. His eyes drift to Dew's mouth, wide and pink and curled at the corners in a mischievous little grin. "Wonder what we could do until then..."

Dew's smile gains a sensual edge, his eyelids drooping and the tip of his tongue poking out between crowded teeth. He slips his fingers into Rain's curls, blunt nails scratching at his scalp, and Rain shivers when Dew leans in close. He waits for a kiss that will undoubtedly taste of weed and raspberry flavoured candy.

Instead, Dew kisses his cheek and moves to whisper in his ear. His breath ghosts over Rain's skin, warm but shiver-inducing, and he makes his request.

Rain snorts.

"I am not fucking you with the popcorn butter, Dewdrop."

[blackjackkent]

For the blossoming romance prompts: #25 finding comfort in someone's scent. Shadowzel. Pickee this mostly bc of lae'zels comments about scent in her actual romance lol

(Blossoming Romance writing prompts)

-----

“Zhak vo’n’ash duj…” Shadowheart makes an attempt at the githyanki phrase, a low call at the door of Lae’zel’s tent.

There’s a long silence. Perhaps Lae’zel is already asleep - as it should be, really. As the closest thing the camp has to a healer, Shadowheart knows better than most how much the gith’s body was battered by her imprisonment at Orin’s hands. By all rights, Shadowheart should be doing anything rather than disturb her rest. It’s pointless, self-indulgent, to be standing here in the middle of the night just to hear her voice… 

She’s on the point of turning away when Lae’zel answers from within the tent. “Zhak vo��n’ash duj,” she echoes, equally low and somewhat hoarse. “Rhen n’a kovakha sutaj… fynh avun…”

Shadowheart doesn’t know what that means, but it doesn’t sound like a dismissal, so she pushes the tent flap aside cautiously. 

Lae’zel is sitting up on her bedroll, legs pulled to her chest. Her eyes glitter subtly in the flickering light from the fire as she looks up. A bruise that Shadowheart has not yet healed runs in a long dark-olive line along one of her bare arms. 

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Shadowheart says.

“I am not hungry.”

“Do you want me to bring you something?”

“No.”

A pause. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Silence. Shadowheart holds her breath. Perhaps it would be better if Lae’zel drove her away, if their dalliance shattered apart at this moment of strain. Perhaps it would be easier not to risk believing that they can see each other through this storm and all the worse ones that lie ahead. And yet her heart aches at the thought, because she has lost everything else that ever mattered to her, and gods help her, she does not want to lose this…

“Yes,” Lae’zel says softly, and the breath rushes back out of Shadowheart’s lungs. She slips through the flap into the tent and settles herself, cross-legged, in front of her lover. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches out and takes one of Lae’zel’s hands.

After that, neither of them seem to know quite what to do. These days, their relationship manifests most often in lovemaking as violent as it is intense; this quiet moment is unfamiliar. Lae’zel looks intently down at their clasped hands. Her fingers twitch minutely against Shadowheart’s palm, long nails scoring gently against her skin.

“Orin showed me your face,” she says abruptly. “Mocked me with your voice. Tried to make me believe, time and time again, that you had come to break the chains she put on me.”

“Oh,” is all Shadowheart can think to say.

Another pause. “Chk,” Lae’zel mutters. “Foolishness. As if I could not tell the difference. As if I do not know the truth of you by now. I am not so easily taken in.”

The truth of you. Shadowheart frowns. Which one? “I’m not sure I even know the truth of me,” she murmurs ruefully. Ever since the Shadowfell, all the pieces of her seem tangled and indistinct, pulling in different directions - the Sharran and the Selunite, the torturer and the healer, the warrior for the fate of the world and the frightened child lost in the woods.

Lae’zel looks up and her eyes blaze with sudden intensity. “I would know you anywhere, Shadowheart. Do you not know I have memorized every detail? Your eyes seem grey but carry flecks of gold. You favor your right hand for combat but your left for healing. You have a scar on your elbow. Another at the back of your hip.” 

Her grip turns crushingly tight on Shadowheart’s hand, hard enough to bruise. “Your nose wrinkles upwards when you smile. Your armor is cracked at the left shoulder. You move without sound and your steps roll, heel to toe. Your scent--”

She breaks off abruptly and swallows, closing her eyes. “There are no words. But it is you. So many things Orin did not know. So many things she forgot and thought I would not notice. But I knew. I always knew - that she was a false thing, a pale imitation. Merely a reminder that I was caught and mocked, an animal in a cage. That I might-- might never again--” Her voice stutters abruptly, hangs on the edge of cracking.

Shadowheart lurches forward abruptly. Wrenching her hand from Lae’zel’s grip, she cups it instead to the back of the other woman’s neck and pulls her fiercely into a crushing kiss. Lae’zel makes a soft, startled noise, but then relaxes, her lips softening into the contact. When the kiss breaks, she turns her head so her nose presses against Shadowheart’s cheek and draws a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m here,” Shadowheart whispers. “I’m real. No more of Orin’s lies. I’m real, and I’m here, and you’re safe.” It is only now that she is sure of that fact that she can begin to comprehend the possibility that it might have been otherwise - that they might have been too late, and she might have lost Lae’zel forever. Her world is very empty now that Shar has exiled her, ironically darker than it ever was before, but Lae’zel has been a buoy in the raging storm, implacable and steady. Shadowheart can see down that not-taken path and it is a frighteningly blank place.

“I think you see me more clearly than I see myself,” she adds quietly. Of course that’s frightening too, in its way. She was raised for so many years to exist in shadow and obscurity. To be seen is not something she is practiced at. She feels self-conscious - but at the same time there is something electric in the knowledge that Lae’zel has studied her so deeply. 

“You fill my thoughts,” Lae’zel murmurs. “I see you each moment, whether you are before me or not. Once I thought it madness - but the madness was in seeking to escape it.”

“Yes,” Shadowheart agrees. Absently, almost without thinking about it, she summons some reserve of strength and produces another healing spell which she draws gently along that long bruise on Lae’zel’s arm, watching it slowly fade back into the subtler green tint of her skin. “You should rest,” she adds softly, letting those words carry the weight of the ones she doesn’t yet feel brave enough to say. I missed you. I was so scared for you, and for myself. I love you.

Lae’zel draws another slow breath through her nose against Shadowheart’s jaw, and some of the rigid tension starts to bleed out from her. She sags forward until her forehead rests on Shadowheart’s shoulder. “Stay,” she says - but it lacks the commanding tone she might usually bring to the word. It sounds more like a plea, heavy with exhaustion.

Shadowheart nods. “I will,” she murmurs. Her fingers comb gently into Lae’zel’s hair, along her neck, over her back. “Here and real, and waiting when you wake…”

[messedupfan]

Chapter 19

Summary: Y/n finds some interesting information about Rachel while cleaning her room.

A/n: I wasn't sure about this chapter but considering tonight is the presidential debate, nothing can be worse than that. I hope this is better than that. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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

Wanda sets the last box on top of another and puts her hands on her hips as she looks at the shed. It was a mess when she first opened it yesterday. She couldn't believe how much crap had collected inside over the years. She threw out most of the useless items and whatever gardening and landscaping tools she had, she moved to the garage. Though she doubted she'd need them again since the tools were only used once by Vision before he hired a team of people to take care of the yards. 

The shed is once again a disorganized mess of boxes but she knows that you won't let them collect dust. “I should probably patch up some holes in here before I leave, I don't know what the weather is going to be like before I can get in here and really set up and I don't want anything to get ruined.” You say as you analyze the space. 

Wanda nods, “Yeah, do whatever you have to. It's your space now.” 

“Almost like we're moving in together,” you joke, which makes both of you laugh awkwardly. “Sorry I don't know where that,” you start but Wanda doesn't let you finish as she waves you off. 

“It's okay,” she says with a kind smile. The two of you get quiet and stand in front of each other awkwardly. Not sure what to say or do. She wants to ask you so many questions. She wants to hold you and tell you that she loves you. She wants to throw caution into the wind and ask you to move in. But she knows that she can't. She's not ready. She takes a slow breath and opens her mouth to ask if you're feeling better but thankfully, her phone starts ringing. “I have to take this,” she says as she puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, yeah, let me get somewhere private.” She mouths an apology to you just before turning to the back door of her house. She rushes up the steps of the deck and then to her office. She feels you trailing her up until she gets to the stairs inside of the house. 

“Since when do you need to find privacy to talk to me?” Agatha says on the other end of the call.

Wanda hurries into her home office but isn't careful enough to ensure that the door is shut all the way. She stands in the middle of her office with her back to the door. “Since I realized that I'm in love with Y/n and I needed to get the words out before I self implode,” she rushes out as if she was holding a deep breath. 

“Woah, woah,” Agatha says with a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m going to need you to slow down and annunciate for me, honey. What's happening?” 

Wanda swallows and inhales through her nose. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of losing it lately. Ever since I started seeing Dr. Winslow I feel like I can't keep a secret anymore because it doesn't feel good. But now is not the time for me to go proclaiming my love to Y/n.” Wanda starts to nibble on her thumb nail. 

“Why not? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you feel about them,” Agatha asks.

“Because they have a lot going on. And I still have a lot of things to work through.” She doesn't want to go into the details with Agatha so she keeps it vague. “But I can finally admit it to myself and well, you, about how I feel.” 

“Yeah, why are you telling me this now? I’ve been losing bets over this and now you feel this way?” Agatha scoffs as she thinks about how much money she's lost because she could see what her friend continued to deny. 

“I'm sorry, it's still relatively new to me. If it makes you feel any better, you indirectly helped me get to this point,” Wanda lamely offers up. 

“That's why I called you,” Agatha says as she is reminded why she even dialed up her friend. “How has the therapy been? Good for you?” 

“Oh they've been amazing! Thank you for introducing me to Dr. Winslow, I really don't think I could thank you enough,” Wanda says gratefully. 

“I told you, he's really that good,” Agatha states proudly.

“Yeah, he has made me feel things I haven't felt before, or I guess, he's made me understand feelings that I haven't been able to identify before. Yeah, that sounds better,” Agatha laughs and it makes Wanda laugh too. “Stop with your dirty mind. You know what I mean.” Agatha agrees. “It’s really weird though, I feel like he understands me better than I understand me. I'm not sure I like it but it's been helpful so I can't really complain can I?” 

“I told you not to go to him unless you were ready to really learn about yourself,” Agatha says. 

“I know, I know. I am appreciative and grateful and all of the other positive words. But gah, I miss the ability to hold in my feelings.” Wanda shakes her head as she thinks about you. She turns around when she hears footsteps and her eyes widen as she realizes that she didn't shut the office door all of the way. “I um I uh shit! I have to call you later Agatha! I forgot to close the damn door!” 

“So much for that privacy you were looking for,” Agatha quips. “I love you, hon. Have a good rest of your evening?” She ends the call and Wanda sets her phone on her desk as she sits against the front of it and puts her face into her hands. 

She takes a moment for herself then she remembers that she hasn't washed her hands yet.  She quickly makes her way to the bathroom in her bedroom to wash her face and her hands. By the time she dries off she has convinced herself that you didn't hear anything because you would have come inside and done something. She considers that one of the kids might've heard but she knows who's footsteps those belonged to. They were definitely yours. 

Wanda walks into the kitchen to find you chopping vegetables. “You're already starting on the salad? We haven't even talked about what we're having as the main course,” she says as she grabs her apron to have her hands do something other than wrap around your body. She hardly wears it but it was a mother's day gift from her boys a couple years ago so she keeps it around. 

You shrug as you focus on chopping. “Yeah but I'm sure it's going to include a salad so I figured it'd be better to start instead of sitting around doing nothing.” You stop chopping for a second to look at her. “How was your phone call?” 

Wanda gives you a tight smile as her heart pounds in her chest with fear and anticipation. She isn't ready for you to know about her feelings yet. “It was good. It was Agatha. She was just checking on how my therapy is going. Since she recommended him to me and all,” Wanda opens the pantry to start pulling out ingredients. 

“I should probably start looking into therapy,” you state as you start to feel like an idiot. Of course she was talking about a therapist! She didn't push you away to be with another person, she pushed you away to be with herself. But that doesn't mean you need to feel guilty about dating. It's what she wants and you're respecting that.

Wanda surprises you by placing her hand on the middle of your back but you settle into the touch as it spreads a warm tingly sensation throughout your back. “I think with everything going on, that sounds like a great idea.” She leans her head against your shoulder. “Have things ended physically between you and Jean before?” Wanda asks carefully. Her hand starts to rub small circles on your back. You stop moving the knife as there's no more vegetables to cut. 

“I wouldn't say that it was crazy physical but this isn't the first time she's smacked me out of anger. It's probably the third or fourth time. That's not to say I didn't deserve it,” you say softly. Wanda shakes her head as she moves away and turns you to face her. “Wanda, I should not have confronted her like that. It wasn't fair to her. And honestly, I felt out of control. I'm glad it went the way that it did and not the other way around.” 

“Do you really think you're capable of something like that?” Wanda asks as her eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes. 

“I like to believe that I'm not. I didn't feel like I was going to hurt her physically. I had no intention to. The idea wasn't in my mind. But who knows what any of us are capable of?” You reply as honestly as you can because you don't know if you are capable of inflicting physical harm on anyone. You got into little nothing fights in high school that ended in laughter before anything got serious. But nothing has pushed you past your limits enough. Even drunk and getting into arguments with someone, it never ended in a real physical fight. 

“It was never going to end that way. Don’t doubt your abilities to keep yourself in check, Y/n. You are capable of many things. Choosing physical violence isn’t one of them and that’s a great thing,” Wanda says with a firm tone that makes you believe her words. You nod and thank her. “Any time. Now let’s make these kids some dinner before they start getting cranky,” she says with a kind smile before stepping away from you. 

The two of you step into an easy rhythm of cooking together and when the ingredients start to create an aroma that travels throughout the house, the kids are running down the stairs eager to be part of the process. There isn’t much for them to do other than watch and wait since it was just a simple pasta with a side salad. The kids, however, made themselves useful by setting the table and getting drinks poured for everyone. When the meal was ready, everyone served themselves before meeting at the table. You love the dinners that you are fortunate to have at Wanda’s but you know that you’re going to have to dial it back soon. It’s not fair to the kids to get attached to the idea of this family. Because it's not real. 

Something that you didn't realize was already a problem until a couple of weekends later. You are cleaning Rachel's room because it had gotten messy throughout the weeks and you didn't feel like arguing about it. She wasn't a bad kid and with things being tense between you and her mother, you don't feel that she should be punished for an unkempt room. You remember being a kid with a tense family dynamic and how your room would be a mess as a result of it. Cleaning her room for her healed a part of your inner child. The younger version of you who was struggling for a long time and instead of being met with compassion or concern was only ever berated and punished for things like a messy room. 

Rachel had a sleepover with Tommy and Billy at Wanda’s house the night before. Wanda tried to convince you to join them but you declined. Instead, you spent the free night with Nebula. The two of you met for dinner then ended the night at your place. She has a great sense of humor and she made you laugh for hours. You attempted to do the same, unfortunately she had to politely inform you that your humor needed some work. 

“But don't worry, I'm still willing to stick around,” she flipped her hair and leaned in. You smiled at her and kissed her cheek. You enjoy her company, you aren't sure what kind of future you'll have with her, but you like her enough to find out. 

Spending time with Nebula made you realize what you liked about Daisy and why you kept that relationship going for as long as you did. It was how she admired you. At least how she admired an idea of you that she cultivated for years. That she managed to still like you past the mental pedestal. You might not have been aware of her crush on you when she was younger but the comments that Kate made about it made you feel good about yourself. Being with her made you feel a bit more confident even though it was at her emotional expense. 

Being with Nebula is refreshing. She isn't your former boss’ daughter. She isn't your current one's sister. She doesn't know anything about your past aside from what you choose to share. And you have no ties or connection to her and her past. A past that hasn't come around to haunt her. Not that you minded Wanda’s troubles. You have plenty of your own. But spending time with Nebula gave you a new perspective when it came to dating. Sure, you still have stronger feelings for Wanda, but she doesn't want you. This time around, you have a real confirmation that she doesn't want to be anything more than a friend. You can't put your life on hold on the chance that she might change her mind. 

You are snapped from your thoughts when you step on something poking out from under Rachel's bed. You look down and see a small trail of ants marching from there. “Gross,” you make a face and leave the room to get gloves and a face mask on as well as a handful of trash bags and bug spray. You hated finding old food. You hadn't realized how bad she was getting until you looked under the bed. There were stacks of paper plates with food leftover in them. There were some clothes that you suppose were meant to help hide the unfinished food. You feel a little better when you see bite marks in the moldy food but you know that you're going to have to have a talk with her when you pick her up. 

You end up having to move the bed in order to get it properly cleaned and disinfected. Jean used to do the same thing when the two of you were growing up. You hope you can help Rachel with the habit before it gets bad. As much as you don't want to talk to Jean, you know you're going to have to discuss this with her. Especially since she's going to have to clean under Rachel's bed at her house. 

When you're done cleaning from under the bed, you decide to strip it so that she can have clean sheets to return to. When you do that, you notice something sticking out from between the mattress and the box spring. The paper looked oddly familiar and you are reminded of the top secret project that she wouldn't let anyone see. You want to respect her privacy but the curiosity and concern takes over and you lift the mattress to pull it out carefully. 

It's a flimsy poster made up of construction paper taped and glued together. At the top in big letters it says, “How to get Ms. Wanda and Baba together!” You pull it all of the way out and sit on the bed with a deep frown on your face as you read the steps of her plan. At the bottom is a little note that says, “Check Rocket for updates.” You set the poster down and go into her closet where you had found her plush raccoon toy earlier. She named it Rocket because it has a spacesuit on and she was in her astronaut phase when she received the toy as a present. 

You didn't know that it had a zipper on the back until now when you find it as you try to figure out how he was storing updates for her. You open it and find folded pieces of paper each labeled with a date. You open the one from the beginning of the year and are shocked to find out that she witnessed the kiss between you and Wanda. You open another one and read about the time that you and Wanda played a dance game together in the living room while you guys thought the kids were playing with each other upstairs. She wrote about how happy Wanda made you. 

Another page, she wrote about how she really felt about her accident. That she was having nightmares about the fall but that sometimes you or Wanda were there to catch her in the dream. She wants Wanda to be her mom. She wrote, “With Anna I didn't get a choice. Mommy loves Momma Anna. She's nice but she isn't Ms. Wanda. I know that I can't make Baba choose Ms. Wanda. But I can make them see that Ms. Wanda is the best person for them. I think Baba could love Ms. Wanda already. They are brighter and happier when we are with Ms. Wanda. The smile on Baba’s face is bigger than when we have Miss Daisy over. I don't like Miss Daisy. She isn't Ms. Wanda.” 

You stop reading because these updates feel like personal journal entries. You fold them back up and stuff them in Rocket. You finish cleaning her room and make her bed. Not sure what else to do, you drive to a nearby store and buy Rachel a real diary with a set of pencils and erasers for her and put it all together in a small gift bag. 

You leave the present in the car when you get to Wanda’s house. You text Wanda to have her meet you outside so that you can chat with her before confronting the kids. You stand outside of your car with the poster and Rocket in your hand. As you were putting the papers back inside, you realized that some of them weren't written by your daughter. So this matter wasn't just a one on one with you and Rachel. The twins were involved as well. 

“What's going on?” Wanda asks as she meets you in the driveway. You hand her the poster and her eyebrows twitch with confusion. She smiles at first and it slowly drops as she processes what she's reading then it returns because it’s so silly. “Honestly, this is so cute. They ship us,” Wanda turns to you with her amused grin. 

“You don't see this as a problem?” You ask as you pull out the “updates” that the kids have written and hand them to her. She reads a couple of pages before her expression changes. 

“Okay, it's kind of creepy knowing that they're watching us so closely. Gahd, I really thought Billy bought that story that you had a nightmare,” she shakes her head as she lowers the pages from her view. “But, I don't know. It's kind of sweet that my boys want me with someone like you. Someone that they've only ever seen make me happy. And that Rachel would choose me to be another mother for her. Especially with everything going on with Jean. How is that by the way?” 

“I stay in my apartment at pick ups and drop offs now. They don't want me near their house,” you state. “Which is fine with me, I don't want to see them either.” Wanda nods to show her understanding of the situation. “Anyway, I think we need to talk to the kids about this. I don't think it's good for them.” 

“They're just kids with an innocent fantasy of becoming a family,” Wanda defends their actions. “What's wrong with letting them continue to believe that they can bring a family together?” 

You frown as you look at the so-called operation. You don't know why you feel the need to crush their dreams. But it's not going to be a reality. “It doesn't seem like it could be damaging? Now I know why Rachel was so adamantly against Daisy. She won't accept anyone I date if she thinks there's a chance,” you look away from Wanda. Avoiding actually having to verbalize a rejection you're still coping with. You close your eyes and take a slow breath through your nose as you think about one of the reasons this bothers you. “I started seeing someone. It's still new and I don't think I'm at the point of introducing Rachel to her. But I might someday and I don't want a repeat of last time.”

Wanda tries to keep her expression neutral. She can't believe that you're already feeling serious about someone else. She thought you might date around but in the way she was dating around. Nothing serious, just a person or a few people to have fun with every now and then. She didn't think that you would find someone you would like enough to crush your daughter's dreams. 

“You've made it clear that you don't see that kind of future with me,” you state with an emotionless expression that catches Wanda's attention. She wants to correct you but she doesn't feel that she has the right to. She knows that she is in love with you, but she isn't ready to be in a relationship. Not yet. Telling you those words would only mean she felt that way and not that she was ready to act on them. 

“Right,” she nods. “Well, I don't think we should rush in there and tell them that this will never happen. Let's think about it. If by next Sunday we don't agree on an appropriate approach, then we will think about it longer. It will be okay. Besides, they might grow out of the idea.” 

You nod as you feel a little bit better about the whole thing. “You're right, we shouldn't confront them about it yet.” 

“Where did you get that?” Rachel says with the boys standing behind her. You and Wanda turn to look at them, then look at each other with panic in your eyes. Wanda tries to hand off the evidence to you but you push it back towards her. She pushes it towards you and the two of you go back and forth until you surrender. 

“Kids, we need to have a little chat,” you finally say as you take the papers from Wanda's hands and walk towards the house. You pace in front of the kids as they sit on the sofa. The evidence is displayed on the coffee table between you and them. Wanda stands behind you, leaning against the wall. 

The three kids look at each other as they wait. Each of them comes up with a different story in their heads as they wait under your glare for you to say more. They can't handle your silence and crack under the pressure. Tommy is the first to point a finger at Billy who blames Rachel who then throws Tommy under the bus making him turn on Rachel. It goes in circles until you hold your hand up. They all stop. 

“No one is in trouble,” you start. You look at Wanda who doesn't have much to say on the matter. She wishes they had the week to think about this. You turn back to the children, not quite sure where you're about to go. “We are just concerned because,” you helplessly look back at Wanda. “Want to help me out?” She shakes her head and encourages you to continue. You drop your head for a second and return your attention to the kids. 

“Can you explain what this is exactly?” You ask helplessly. The three children exchange looks but end up deciding to stay quiet in the end. “Okay,” you back up to where Wanda is standing. “I'm not good at this,” you whisper to her. 

“I think you're doing great,” she says with humor in her eyes as she holds back from laughing. You tilt your head at her unamused. She sighs, “Okay, let me try.” She steps forward and crouches down to level with the coffee table. She looks at the pages that are full of words and drawings. Her eyes danced from page to page in thought. “Y/n is right, none of you are in trouble. We're just concerned and a little confused. What exactly are you guys hoping will happen if you,” she looks at the master plan, “‘keep leaving us alone together’ and ‘drop hints to be together.’ Do you guys think that's how families are made?”

Rachel is the first to crack this time. She starts with a shrug. Then a soft, “I don't know.” Wanda nods and with a soft expression she asks Rachel to try and explain the idea. “I just, it started when my Baba was building your wall. And I got to hang out with Billy and Tommy and Luna. I don't like being an only child. I like pretending I'm Billy and Tommy's sister. We have a lot of fun together. Then we were having the kind of family dinners I've always dreamed of. Plus Tommy said that my Baba is nicer to you than their dad.” 

Tommy chooses then to speak up. “They make you smile a lot. Dad, used to make you smile sometimes but not like Y/n. I like how happy you are when they're around.” 

Wanda starts to feel herself getting choked up and you can feel the weight of their words. You decide to sit with Wanda at the coffee table to continue to hear them out. “Yeah, I've never heard Y/n call you mean names. Daddy called you so many mean names,” Billy says next. “He calls us names too and we don't like it. But Y/n is always nice to us and they're nice to you.” 

Wanda tries to fight her tears as she is overwhelmed by her emotions. She fucked up. That's all she can think about. She fucked up. “Mom don't cry, we're sorry,” Tommy says as he stands up and walks around the table to hug his mom. Billy joins in, cutting in between the two of you to hug her other side. It causes Wanda to cry harder even though she doesn't want to be having this breakdown in front of her boys. You start to rub her back to offer your comfort and support. Wanda believed that she was careful to not let the boys witness the darkness that loomed over her relationship with their father. That only recently they've witnessed the relationship taking a turn. To know that they've always been aware of the animosity is heartbreaking. 

Rachel joins the pile. She apologizes as she does and Wanda can't tell her that she shouldn't because she is sobbing. You didn't realize that Wanda had so much pain built up inside of her. You feel guilty that you can't give her the privacy that she gave you weeks ago. With the way she holds onto her boys, it's easy to see that she doesn't mind at the moment. 

When Wanda stops crying she excuses herself to clean up and instead of following her, you stay with the kids. You sit with them and listen to what they have to say. It is flattering to know what the boys think of you. And it's sweet of your daughter to want you to have what she thinks is the type of love her mom found. She wants you to be happy and she thinks that's with Wanda. You sigh at the thought. 

“Honey, I am happy. I don't need a relationship to be happy. You know that,” you say. You don't want her to believe a person's happiness stems from another person.

“I know, but I want you to be happier. Ms. Wanda makes you happier,” she argues and you sigh again. She wasn't wrong but you couldn't tell her that. 

“Alright, we're going to drop this and we're going to order something to eat. How does that sound?” You say because you don't know what else to do. You don't want to tell them that it's not a possibility when deep down, you hope things will change. 

They agree and you clean up their little project. You don't want to throw it away so you just collect it and remove it from the coffee table. You take it out to the truck and put it in an unused folder for safe keeping. You walk back inside to find the three debating on a movie. You take the time to look for Wanda. 

She is lying on her side on her bed. She is clutching a pillow to her chest. You don't walk into her room just yet. Instead, you walk back down stairs and fill a glass with ice and water, the way she enjoys water the most. The kids are focused on a movie when you pass them. 

You gently knock on Wanda's half closed door and wait to be invited in. She lets out a soft, “I'm okay, I'll be down in a few.” 

It breaks your heart to hear her so forlorn. “It's me,” you say in a broken whisper. 

“Come in,” she sniffles and you step through the door. You shut it behind you before you walk to the side of her bed. She doesn't move when she sees the glass of water so you set it on the coaster on her nightstand. You sit on the floor in front of her and the both of you stare at each other for a long time. Her nose is red and her cheeks are pink with puffy eyes. She has mucus making its way down her nose. Her cheeks are wet with tears. You want to take the tissues from her nightstand and wipe her face but you don't want to invade her personal space without her permission. 

“What do you need,” you ask after a while. 

“A time machine,” she answers softly with a small tug on the corner of her lips. You flash a smile and look down at your hand for a second then look back up at her. 

“Don't we all?” You pause and tilt your head so that you match her head's position. “Unfortunately, I don't have access to one of those. Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

Wanda scratches under her nose and cringes. She quickly grabs tissues to clean herself up but it ends up being for nothing as she starts crying again. “I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening.” 

“You've been carrying a lot. It's okay to have moments like this,” you say you offer your hand. She takes it and squeezes it tightly. 

“I know, but why today? Tomorrow would have been better. Or Monday. Or even next Saturday. Why now? When my boys are here. When you and Rachel are here,” she whines as she stuffs more tissues in her face. You frown and sigh as you shake your head. 

“I don't know,” you answer honestly. “At least you’re not experiencing this alone. The kids are fine, they will continue to be fine. I will be here, I will take care of them. I will take care of you. I will-” Wanda’s body starts shaking as she starts to cry hysterically again. “Screw it,” you say as you climb in the bed with her and wrap your body around her to help soothe her. “Breathe, Wanda,” you say as you hold her tightly. “Breathe,” you take slow breaths for her to mimic. She struggles at first but eventually she is able to breathe with you. When she settles down and stops shaking you stop holding her and you climb off of the bed. 

You clear your throat, “Drink your water. I’m going to chat with the kids and order some food. I'll check on you in a bit.” You walk out of the room and shut the door behind you as you do. 

The kids each state what they are craving and so that you can help them come to an agreement, you offer them three options that come close to their requests. Then you have them vote on which one they want the most. Tommy is the first to cast his vote which makes Rachel lean in a different direction. Billy ultimately agrees to whatever Rachel wants so it makes it slightly easier until Tommy gives a compelling argument. It doesn't take too long before you're putting in their orders for Chinese food. You order your favorites and order what you know Wanda likes. 

You stay with the kids and watch the movie with them to allow Wanda the time alone that she wants. Tommy expresses his boredom when you're trying to pick another movie so the four of you start to play a video game while waiting for the food to be delivered. 

When the food does arrive, you serve the kids before you collect Wanda's food and display it on a tray that she has stored in one of her kitchen cabinets. You make her another glass of water and set it on the tray and carefully carry it to her room. Wanda’s face is clearer when you walk in. She sits up in her bed when she sees you and offers a tired smile as you set the tray over her lap. 

“Oh this is perfect. How did you know?” She asks as she looks hungrily at the food on her tray. 

You shrug and smile, “I'm just that good.” You grab her empty cup from the nightstand. “I'll leave you to it.” She thanks you as you walk out of the room. You enjoy your meal with the kids on your own and when everyone has cleared their messes from the table, you decide to bring out a board game. Wanda finds the four of you laughing together while she is bringing her tray of empty dishes down the stairs. Instead of continuing on, she hides in the shadows and just watches. 

She used to do this when the boys were younger, usually after fighting with Vision. She thought about leaving him so many times but then she'd see him with the boys. He would be watching a soccer game and the boys would want his attention. He would typically ignore them or give them something to distract them or he'd send them off to their room. Those times, she worried about what their lives would be like without her. But there were moments when he was a doting father. He'd play with them. He'd watch their favorite movies with them, at the time they were animated musicals, and he'd sing along. That's when she was reminded of how she fell for him in the first place. Because when he was in a good mood, he could light up a room. He had the ability to make everyone feel as good as he felt. His mood swings were not healthy, but she couldn't justify leaving him at the time. 

Now she wishes that she had done it sooner. She wonders if she had left him before he left her, would she have been able to let you in when you confessed your feelings to her? She wonders if she would have this doubt that she will ruin you and make you as bitter as Vision. Logically, she knows that Vision has always been who he is. But there is a convincing irrational voice in her head that says she is the reason Vision went from loving and present to distant and bitter. 

She walks down with her tray and a fresh face. She tries to pass without bringing attention to herself but her boys jump out of their seats and run up to hug her. Wanda smiles as she greets them. You stand up and take the tray from her hands so that she can hug her boys. She thanks you as you take it all to the sink. 

“Do you want to join us?” You ask, walking out of the kitchen. 

“Um, I don't know. I don't want to mess with whatever you guys have going on,” she says as she looks at the board and how far they are into the game. 

“Oh we were just about to start a new game, right guys?” You try to get the kids to go along with you but they disagree. 

“You only want to start over because you're losing!” Rachel says, making you shake your head to deny the accusation. 

“Mom, we're kicking Y/n’s butt,” Billy giggles as he looks up at his mom. 

“Yeah, Y/n only wants us to start over because they're really bad,” Tommy laughs as he squeezes his arms around his mom.

“Alright, alright,” you surrender. “We're not starting a new game but I can use your help with being the banker. It's been difficult for me to keep track of everything on my own.”

“Okay, sure,” Wanda sits down next to you and takes over the banker role. She mediates arguments with the rule book. She helps you catch up with the kids with some tricks she's learned over the years and you wink at her when you notice the difference her help has made for you. 

When the game is over and Billy has won, Tommy looks like he's about to throw a fit but you quickly tell him how impressive he was throughout the game. Then you say that you are proud of both of them. He holds his hand out to his brother, says “Good game,” then goes upstairs to get ready for bed. 

You take Rachel home after washing the dishes and saying goodnight to Wanda and the boys. You give her the gift and suggest that she should start writing how she feels in the journal instead of random notes stored in her stuffed animal. She thanks you with a hug. When you get home you sit her down and talk to her about her recent food habits and ask her to come to you when she's ready and that for now, the two of you will be eating all meals at the table including snacks. 

“You're not in trouble,” you clarify when she starts to cry and apologize. “Your mom struggled with food for a long time, honey. It's not your fault baby girl. It's no one's fault. Just, we're going to figure this out together okay?” You say as you hold your struggling daughter. Promising her that everything will be okay. 

The next morning, you decide you have to violate the new rules that Jean and Anna have implemented with pick ups and when Anna sends the text that she and Jean are waiting for Rachel in the parking garage, you walk with your daughter hand in hand. Anna gets out of the car when she sees you in order to keep you away. 

“You're not supposed to come out, we still haven't forgiven you yet,” Anna says defensively. 

“We agreed that Rachel comes first, I need to talk to Jean about her,” you state firmly. Rachel squeezes your hand and looks up at you. She shakes her head. 

“I don't want to talk about it with mom, please baba,” she pleads and you lower yourself to her level. 

“Honey, your mom can help you with this better than I can. She needs to know. She can help me too,” you explain. 

Anna softens a bit and turns to the car to tell Jean to get out. The four of you walk back into your apartment and sit down at the kitchen table. You go over what you found underneath Rachel's bed and some of the things you read from papers you found around her room. You didn't mention that it was from entries for her plan to get you to be with Wanda. That wasn't necessary. Jean covers mouth and starts to cry as she thinks of her history with this struggle and feels terrible for passing this trait onto her. You rub her back as you offer her comfort telling her to not blame herself. 

Anna watches her wife be comforted by her ex over an issue that she wasn’t aware of. She had no idea that Jean had a food problem and she starts to realize that the signs have always been there. Moments when Jean would only serve her and Rachel and claim that she had a big lunch. Or the odd smell that came from Rachel’s room and the way that she would freeze whenever it was mentioned to her. The missing items of her step-daughter’s clothing that she couldn’t find and Rachel claimed she left it at her Baba’s house. She can’t believe she missed the signs. And she feels isolated from the family again. She feels isolated from her wife as she watches you and Jean start to make a plan for helping Rachel. Another reminder that she is your daughter. You are unaware that Anna feels left out as you focus on Rachel and her needs. Jean thanks you for bringing this situation to her during this tense time between the two of you. “Our differences aside, I will always put Rachel first as I’m sure you feel the same way,” you say while you hold Jean’s hand between yours. She nods as she agrees and that’s when Anna rises out of her chair. It feels a little abrupt to you.

Anna clears her throat and checks her phone, “We have to go, my mom invited us to see my parents' new place. Um, bye, Y/n,” she doesn’t look at you as she starts towards the front door.

You let go of Jean’s hand as you get up to walk your daughter out of your home. “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea today,” Jean tries to explain. “It’s been a very emotional day for us. I don’t know if Rachel is up for that.” 

Anna stops outside the door, “Sure she does!” You are confused when she smiles at Rachel. Anna used to be the kind of person that would initiate a conversation like this. You learned a lot from her on how to be present, question, and listen to your daughter's actions and words. You don’t understand why she is brushing off something like early signs of an eating disorder. “Don’t you want to see Gammy and Pop-pop?” You cringe at the way she is talking to your daughter with a baby voice. You wonder what’s going on with her. 

Rachel shakes her head and wipes her tears as she leans into your side. “No, I just want to go home,” she says in a small voice. 

Jean looks at Rachel and starts to comb her hair with her fingers then looks at Anna, “Babe, let’s just go home. I’ll call your mom and apologize to her myself.” 

“Fine. Yeah. Okay,” Anna mutters as she walks off. 

Jean sighs, things have been weird between them after they lost the baby. Anna wants a family of her own. She knew that you weren't going anywhere and that you are very involved in your daughter's life. But she thought that she would be able to have more than a third of a day in what happens in her family. She thought you would keep your life separate from her's and Jean's and at first when she realized that the two of you were still close she thought she could handle that. Now, she almost prefers it when the two of you are fighting. Jean senses a frustration and a shift from Anna and she has begun to fear that her marriage might be in jeopardy. 

After Rachel is gone, you sit in your apartment alone in silence for a moment. Letting go of the tension in your body. This was an emotional weekend. It started off pretty light then plummeted from there. You need some relief. Your first thought is Wanda because you’re not sure if she should be alone today. But you decide against the idea. You can’t be there for her like a partner would and that’s exactly what it would feel like. If she wants to hang out, she will call you. Next, you think about dialing Darcy up to hang out and when you can't think of a reason not to, she declines your invitation. She is supervising the team that is packing up her belongings. You can’t believe that it’s almost been three months since she told you she was leaving. 

You haven't had a one on one with Steve since you found out about his relationship with your coworker. You've hardly even spoken to Bucky, who you've seen every day since. Neither knows that you're aware of their relationship. They think you're still upset over Steve's bad attempt at a joke. You're not against them being together but it's just weird for you. 

You knew Peggy and you liked her enough for your friend. For some time you thought her and Steve would get married and start a family. You feel somewhat responsible for breaking them up by introducing Steve to Bucky. Rationally, you are aware that you're not at fault. But you can't help the guilt. And you're not ready to face them about it. 

So you call the least complicated person in your life at the moment and invite her over. Nebula is more than happy to see you for a second time this weekend.

Chapter 20

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

[apparitionism]

Bonus 3

I so frequently have to start these intros with “where were we?”, because I so frequently confuse even myself with regard to where any given in-progress story left off... typically it’s a cliffhanger of some sort, but off of, or onto, which specific cliff were we hanging? Well. Here in this continuation of a Christmas tale, we—or rather, Myka and Helena—were suspended in a broken-down elevator in an accounting firm’s office building in Cleveland. Something might’ve been juuuuust about to happen (see part 2 for what that something probably was, and part 1 for the causal chain that got them there), but a voice interrupted, seemingly from on high.

Bonus 3

“Is everybody okay in there?” the voice from heavenward repeats.

Myka looks up, this time confronting not her own reflection but a dark emptiness, one that is partially filled by... a firefighter?

She is sorely tempted, in the moment, to proclaim that everybody in here is most certainly not okay, given that she herself is among that “everybody” and is ready to spit nails at the timing of this supposed rescue... she talks herself down, though, because the firefighter certain doesn’t need to be informed about the grinding frustration of unrealized near-certainty.

The firefighter, most likely concerned about the lack of response, goes on, “If you’re in distress, we can hoist you up through here, get you faster help. If you’re okay, you can wait till we let the car down to the next level and get the doors open. Then you’ll be able to walk out.”

Myka looks at Helena, and they are on the same page regarding being hoisted. “Walk,” they both say.

“Good choice,” the firefighter tells them. “Easier on everybody. Never know when you’ll run into injuries, though... or sometimes worse, claustrophobics, so we gotta check.”

“Among our many problems, claustrophobia is not,” Helena says. She smiles up at the firefighter.

Who smiles back. She’s good-looking, this firefighter.

Not jealousy, Myka admonishes herself. Not now.

“Good for you,” the firefighter tells Helena. Maybe a little jealousy. Then: “I’ll put the lid back on; you two sit tight.”

She disappears; the mirror reappears. Magic-esque.

“Well, this is overdetermined,” Myka mutters.

With a head-cock, Helena says, “I believe I know what that word means, but I’m not certain I know what it means. In context.”

Is she serious? Might as well assume so... “It’s kind of like if you actually had remarked on naughtiness,” Myka says. “But maybe all I really mean, in context, is ‘story of my life.’”

Now a squint. “I know what those words mean as well, but again I must ask—”

“Never mind. I had this wild hope that maybe one thing might go right. But here we are.”

“Being rescued doesn’t fall into the ‘go right’ category?” Helena asks. And now she blinks ostentatiously, combining innocence with a sparkle of eye.

You’ve been teasing me, Myka now suspects, and she wants to say it—to accuse it!—but the interruption stole her boldness. Instead she sighs out “of course it does” and resigns herself to contemplating the complications that have, over the span of time during which she and Helena have been hamhandedly dealing with their destiny, sat themselves down solid-awkward between possibility and realization.

And anyway, if Helena is teasing, does that mean she fails to feel the same urgency Myka does about what might, in the absence of intervention, have been... realized?

Myka has made so many miscalculations with regard to what Helena does, might, could feel. Could the tease, if that’s what it is, have a different significance? Maybe. But Myka is tired. Of miscalculating, yes, but also of hoping. Of wishing. Of hanging on a knife-edge of believing in something that fate keeps deciding should not happen...

Okay, deep breath. Maybe it isn’t fate this time. Maybe in this case it’s nothing more—or less?—than a disapproving elevator.

As they at last exit those hypercritical confines, Myka leans into that latter interpretation, saying back in the car’s direction, “You were pretending to be Jesus-birth-focused, whereas I think in actual fact you’re harking your way around the Old Testament, but as said testament gets cherry-picked by fundamentalist New-Testamenters who don’t know Hebrew. So congratulations on your historically insupportable theology.” She’s pretty sure the unnecessarily extended creak she hears from the mechanism is its version of a crude gesture.

Their firefighter, who had been the one to pry the doors open inch by inch and set them free, now says to Helena, “Did she maybe hit her head when the car stopped?”

“No, she’s merely imaginative,” Helena rejoins, cheerily.

“I’m imaginative?” Myka demands. “Says the father of something.”

The firefighter touches Myka’s arm as if it’s the next step toward physically restraining her, a clear indication of how unhinged her last statements must have sounded. Further indication: the firefighter says, “The whole elevator system’s shut down till they figure out what happened. Can you get down a lot of stairs okay, or do you need assistance?”

“Oh, I definitely need assistance, but not with stairs,” Myka tells her.

Helena steps smooth between the firefighter and Myka, taking Myka’s arm herself instead. “She’ll be fine, I believe. But thank you.”

She’s very gracious. The firefighter is very attractive. Did Helena move to break the firefighter’s hold on Myka... or to place herself closer to the firefighter?

Not jealousy, Myka reminds herself. Not now.

Particularly not now that they’re embarking on a stair-descent and leaving the firefighter behind, one step at a time. It’s an endless-seeming series—“a lot of stairs” indeed—on which they expend no small amount of time. And no small amount of energy.

As they near what seems, blessedly, to be the end, Myka huffs out, “If I ever start thinking I want to live in a high-rise, just say ‘elevator dealy-thingy’ to me to make sure I understand how much I’ll end up regretting it if there’s ever an emergency.” It’s the kind of thing she would say to Pete, so she backtracks: “Sorry. Never mind that. I’m tired.”

Helena’s breathing isn’t exactly unlabored as she says, “No, no. Object lessons. I might take one as well: feign injury so firefighters will convey us via stretcher down accursed emergency stairs.”

“Brilliant idea,” Myka says, though she does spare a “glad we didn’t put you through that” thought for their firefighter.

“Thank you. Coming from, as quite recently noted, such an imaginative individual, that’s a great compliment.”

“Sorry for that outburst too. I was just so ticked at the elevator for how it clearly intended to put a stop to—”

Fortunately/unfortunately, Myka doesn’t manage to finish the utterance, because fortunately/unfortunately, they’re at last pushing through the first-floor fire door.

In a perverse twist, which Myka suspects the elevator of somehow contriving, that door releases them into the cubicle farm. Very near Bob’s location. Where he is now enthusiastically, rather than resentfully, stationed.

“Ladies!” he greets them. Did the elevator text him to lie in wait? “I finally got paid! I’m flush!”

Helena nods in satirical approval. “And we were rescued from the elevator at an overdetermined moment. Such good news all around.” The verbal irony chokes Myka, for it confirms—entirely—that Helena had indeed been teasing.

“Good thing I was here to light a fire under you,” Bob swaggers, clearly oblivious to Helena’s sarcasm, and it’s for once a good thing that he’s paying most of his attention to Helena anyway, because Myka is utterly failing to keep her eyes from widening, her jaw from slackening, into the very dictionary illustration of incredulity. “So what are your plans, now that you’ve put the fear of god into Nancy and made her give me what I deserve?”

Fear of god... now Myka’s certain he and the elevator are in cahoots.

“We have business to attend to,” Helena tells him.

“IRS business?”

Helena smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Not at all,” she says, and Myka recognizes that tone as “continue at your peril.”

So of course Bob continues. “Oh, that kind of business,” he smarms, like the two of them are speaking in some super-secret, super-specific, only-we-know-what-the-word-“business”- means code. Infuriating in itself, but he goes on, “If you’re not on the clock, maybe you’d enjoy an evening out.” The “enjoy” is slimy, and the “maybe” is smug, as if he has no doubt the answer will be yes.

“Oh yes,” Helena says, bringing Myka up short, and “very much so,” she continues. What performance is this? “But not with you.” Myka exhales in relief. Helena then turns to her and says, “I believe you promised me an evening that would make up for our having been trapped?”

Myka nearly chokes again, now at the way “an evening” and “make up for” absolutely roil with salacious intent.

Bob yelps, “I knew it!” which Helena skewers with a completely, and completely transparently, fake-dense, “Knew what?”

He is sufficiently cowed to refrain from responding with anything involving the word “naughty.”

When they finally escape the building, Myka fumes, “Nancy Sullivan did not in any way go far enough with that guy. I don’t know what this pen would let me smite him with, but I’m extremely tempted to take it out of the bag and make a list of my own.”

“Despite the downside?” Helena asks. She’s dialed back the punish-the-offender spice; now she sounds her baseline undercurrent-of-amusement self.

Myka envies her ability to change registers so seemingly effortlessly. “I’m already off the charts, judgment-wise,” she admits, “so I honestly wonder how much downside I’d really feel.” It’s more than she would have been inclined to say, pre-elevator. But something has surely shifted.

“Hm,” Helena noises, a not-quite-poke of an answer. But she then asks, “Would I be on this list?”

Whiplash: back to an unassimilable suggestiveness. That’s better, though, than Helena making and conveying a guilt-ridden assumption, as she most likely would have done in the past, that Myka would pass judgment on her for her misdeeds.

“And if so, in which column?” Helena muses on.

Again Myka would love to have panache, to be able to play into the overdetermined idea of “naughty” or at least counter it with a clever turn on “nice.” Instead she offers something in hope, which she hopes is most immediately legible as practical and not too hopeful: “Since you implied I’m taking you out, I think I’d better do that. Or some other mechanism might decide to get all... judgy. Disapprovey? Obviously from a different theological perspective than the elevator, but even so.”

“Such other mechanism sounds strangely chivalrous. Holding you to account on my behalf? I confess I’m curious as to the form that chivalry might take.”

It’s a perfect opening to probe Helena’s true interpretation of the overdetermined interruption. “But the consequence of said chivalry,” Myka says. “I don’t want to risk it.”

“Any such consequence would be, at this point, merely delay,” Helena says.

Delay... the interruption was merely delay... which means Helena thought that not-quite realization of all their pent-up possibility was—thinks it is!—as inevitable as Myka had. As Myka does. Does now again. Okay, the tenses may be hard to render sensically, but Myka knows what it all means.

Alas, despite the change in their together-weather, she can’t quite see her way clear to realizing that inevitability on a sidewalk... to move in that direction, though, she undertakes to demonstrate that she can be the chivalrous actor, no disapproving mechanism required. Object lessons. “I know you haven’t had any food since this morning,” she says. “Are you hungry?”

Helena’s eyebrows rise. “Oh,” she says, as if only just remembering that her body has physical requirements. Could her time as a hologram have affected—dampened—her awareness of such necessities? Even thinking the question jabs Myka with want, to be the one to bring her back to the body. Its needs. “Yes, I am.”

“What do you like? What’s a favorite?” Please don’t let her say tacos from a truck, Myka begs the universe, because she would really rather not have to explain her lingering shivers around taco trucks as yet another dealy-thingy.

“Preferences are still in process.”

It isn’t “tacos from a truck,” so hallelujah. But it’s inscrutable. “Are they?”

“I’ve traveled through America and elsewhere, over the weeks I’ve been away.” Helena pauses, giving Myka time to appreciate this window, however minimal, onto an answer to the “where were you” question... sadly, “America and elsewhere” gives precious little insight into the reason for all this travel. Helena continues, “What I’ve found is that contemporary cuisine bears little resemblance to what I knew. Some is strange and off-putting; some is strange but surpassingly delicious. Have you experienced a ‘blooming onion’?”

Is that intended to occupy the former or the latter category? “Pete loves those,” Myka says. That should fit as a response to either one.

“They represent what I cannot help but imagine is a foretaste of paradise,” Helena says.

She sounds rapturous.

Thus Myka has a new goal: to inspire a tone in Helena’s voice even approximating the one with which she’s just expressed this unexpected adoration.

However, Myka also has a new frustration: that not one but two of the people who occupy essential positions in her life venerate blooming onions. Which she herself cannot stomach. How to process this? Maybe she could do it by simply watching Helena eat one of the vile things... that really might be worth doing, if only as a stick against which to measure Pete’s gusto...

Sadly, that’s not going to happen today, for a frantic search on her phone yields zero restaurants in the vicinity offering even an approximation.

Onions aside, however, the number of restaurants near to them is, in positive news, nonzero. Myka reads her list of results to Helena as suggestions, and she is genuinely entertained, as well as informed, by the vehemence with which Helena vetoes every option that isn’t aggressively carnivorous.

Twenty minutes later they’re seated at Marble Room, which billed itself on its website as featuring “Steaks and Raw Bar”: Helena had turned up her nose at “raw bar” but landed with claws on “steaks.”

Watching Helena leaf through a menu—sitting across from her at an intimate table for two and doing the same—is even more astonishingly normal than any of the other normal things Myka has seen Helena do, and has done together with her, today. “Have we ever been to a restaurant? Just you and me, being seated? Getting menus and looking at them?” She would of course remember it, if they had, but she asks so as to press on the newness of it.

Bonus: Her asking the question prompts Helena to propose they conduct an inventory, limited though they both know it is, of shared non-B&B meals. It seems a gentle tiptoe through the past, one that might help rather than hurt, so Myka agrees.

“We didn’t share any table in Tamalpais,” Helena begins.

“Too busy saving Claudia from combusting,” Myka concurs.

“And removing you, vertically, from the path of marauding vehicles,” Helena concurs back. She smiles at Myka with a spark, one that is neither naughty nor nice, but rather alchemizes both into a gift of energetic attention that should be impossible.

Oh, this... this is what Myka has found irresistible from the start, for the full alchemy is in fact not only Helena’s impossibly true spark, but how Myka herself responds to it: with an internal melt, the “oh, this” that always hits new, each time she feels it. They say the body doesn’t remember pain; apparently it also doesn’t remember, from one moment of recognition to the next, how it greets its perfect match.

Another of those irresistible moments—actually a cascade of them—had occurred on a plane, as they traveled to Pittsburgh to probe what had happened to the students in Egypt, about which Helena was of course hiding her full knowledge. Myka tries not to push too hard on how significant that episode had been to her, given all the internecine baggage, as she says, “Sitting on a 737 in row 32, me in E and you in F, choosing between the market snack box or the chicken-salad-sandwich plate... that doesn’t count, I’m pretty sure.”

“Alas, no. I did, however, appreciate your willingness to share your sandwich with me.”

“You said it was one of the worst things you’d ever tasted in your life.” In the sandwich-share’s wake, Helena’s face had presented an astonishingly unnuanced canvas of disgust, and Myka had despaired at having caused such a reaction, even as she had reveled in having taken the unprecedented opportunity to do so: “Want a bite?” she’d asked, desperately casual, and Helena had accepted the invitation, biting, all teeth and lips and... and then, sadly, the reaction.

“It was,” Helena says. “Nevertheless I appreciated your willingness—but aha!” she pounces, “sandwiches! We ate ful sandwiches together from that cart in Alexandria.”

“No seating there,” Myka reminds her. “Also no menus.”

“Disqualifying,” Helena concedes. She falls quiet.

They both know Egypt is the end; what follows is adversarial. And then incorporeal.

But today—this collaborative, embodied day—is a beginning. “So we should mark this as a first,” Myka says.

“Celebrate this as a first,” Helena responds... corrects? She looks down at her menu and doesn’t look up as she says, “Of many. If I may dare to hope.”

Myka waits to answer until the look-back-up has occurred. “Only if I may too,” she says, meeting and holding Helena’s eyes.

Which roll, those eyes, and Myka panics. “You may and I may, but such mutual hope will likely have no earthly effect,” Helena says, providing relief: the scoff was directed not at Myka, but at... everything.

Hoping to unscoff her back to celebrating, Myka tries, “Can’t we mutually hope for it to have that effect though? In addition to that underlying mutual hope, for this being the first of many?”

“We can,” Helena says, her brow skeptical, “but would that be sufficient? I suspect the overall situation is likely to require several recursive applications of hope.”

“I can’t dispute your suspicion,” Myka concedes. Is hope a finite resource? That feels like a philosophical dead-ender, or at the very least the beginning of a descent, so she tamps down her impulse to voice the question. They’re here now, a circumstance on which Myka certainly, and Helen probably too, would never have thought to expend any hope at all.

She gives her own look at the menu and, without thinking, blurts, “This meal’s going to cost me several recursive applications of my credit card.” Immediately she wants to swallow back those words; they’re yet another instance of something she’d say to Pete, and anyway mentioning money is so picayune, here in the midst of an historic first. And yet... it never ends well when she tries to pretend to sophistication, moneyed or otherwise, that she doesn’t have, so she gives up and goes all in. “I don’t even know what a ‘duroc pork chop’ is, much less why it would cost more than a coffee-table book. And my dad’s brain would break at the thought of adding a lobster tail to a meal. At the price of it too, but the very idea.”

“I can’t dispute your father’s position,” Helena says, and Myka loves the echo—loves that Helena bothered with the echo. “My mother would most likely respond the same. She was a servant, you know.”

Myka could assure her that she does know; she’s done enough research on the historical H.G. Wells to produce a double-doorstop of a family biography. But she is over-the-top eager to know what Helena might be willing to say, so she goes with what she hopes is an appropriate please-inform-me prompt, sugared with just enough eagerness: “Was she?”

Helena nods. “It trained her to be exceptionally practical, but she became even more so after the failure of my father’s shop compelled her to return to service. That was difficult for her—for all of us. Charles and I were both desperate to rise above that station... insofar as one could, we did a reasonable job of it, and what I’ve learned of Charles’s later life suggests he went even further. A century later, I have as well. So I’ll pay for the meal.”

“But disapprovey mechanisms!” Myka protests, realizing she’s piled error on error: first, she’s supposed to be taking Helena out; second, she’s implying that she can’t pay; and—

“For good or ill, money is no longer my limiting factor,” Helena says, halting Myka’s thought-careering.

She seems genuinely indifferent to the financial consequences, so Myka sets herself to try, against every fiber of her frugal  and responsible being, to pretend like that’s okay. Besides, there’s another issue to pursue. “If not that... what is your limiting factor?”

“Ironically, time,” Helena responds instantly. Acerbically.

“That’s everyone’s,” Myka says, but just as instantly she understands it’s another utterance she should have censored, because she knows what the response will be.

“Unless one is bronzed.”

Expectation fulfilled. And yet: “You aren’t bronzed anymore,” Myka says. To emphasize that—or rather, to emphasize its implications—she extends her right hand across the table. Maybe Helena will take it... she is more hopeful about such a possibility than she has ever been.

“Or unless one is a hologram. Or, now that I think of it, unless one is a vampire.” Helena says this musingly, but she offers her left hand, and now they are touching, and Myka is regretting her vamp somewhat less. “Does that support your earlier postulate?”

Myka can muster few words with their fingers atangle. “Doesn’t matter,” she manages. “You aren’t those either.” So as to put all time-suspending states away, as the past or impossibilities. Or both.

“You are correct. I am none of those.” Helena’s grip on Myka’s hand tightens.

They are holding hands. And if it’s overly adolescent of Myka to find this barely precedented joining significant? So be it.

Together they sit, not letting go. Accustoming themselves, even, to skin on skin. Learning it.

A throat-clear invades Myka’s ears from some unclear direction; she raises her eyes to regard a server.

But those joined hands, hers and Helena’s, don’t immediately disengage. Helena doesn’t let go, and Myka doesn’t either. This has meaning, here among the bonuses: the waiter seeing is okay, and that okay-ness is a continuation. Nancy Sullivan saw. Bob saw—differently, but still. This server, different yet again, but even so: seeing.

“I’m Frank,” that server says. “Really pleased to be here for you tonight. First I need to explain not checking in earlier: you were in conversation, and we try not to let service intrude on your privacy. If that’s an error, it’s on me.” His voice is sleek, as is his physical presentation: he wears a spectacularly well-fitted all-black uniform, as every server here does, but he’s also beautiful, with Roman-ideal bone structure and perfect raw-umber skin. His teeth are perfect too.

Gazing upon him makes Myka regret even more her jump to jealousy with the firefighter—for it now seems more likely that Cleveland has simply been doing its best to show its loveliest helpers to her and Helena.

Bonus.

“No error whatsoever, darling,” Helena says, her sincerity evident via the endearment. From anyone else, it might seem dismissive, even infantilizing, but from Helena, as Myka knows thanks to Claudia’s reactions to being on the receiving end, it’s a notice-signifying prize. If an occasionally unnerving one.

Frank, however, is not unnerved. He visibly warms, turning toward Helena, drawing his hands apart, opening his shoulders—expanding his physical presence, like a peacock, but one whose display is appreciation. When he speaks, however, he shifts to include Myka in his openness. “Like to start with drinks? And I can clarify anything on the menu, if you’ve had time to look.”

“I can clarify that she wants a steak,” Myka says, to speed the process along, given how long it’s been since they both ate.

“The Delmonico,” Helena clarifies further.

“That’s a standout cut. Preparation?” Frank asks.

“Bloody.”

Myka laughs. “Saw that coming. Rethinking the vampire thing a little by the way.”

This makes Helena smile—not naughty, but rather, again, with attention. As if she and Myka really do know things about each other... under a tragic knife, they’d said words about knowing, knowing better than anyone, but Myka is aware, and she presumes Helena is too, that those words weren’t true; they were nothing more (or less) than wishes, postulates about a better world than the too-real one that seemed inescapable.

But now they might be inching closer to that better world.

Helena says to Myka, “In deference to our parents’ sensibilities, I won’t add a lobster tail, but perhaps Crab Oscar? For the resonance?”

“I have to admit, that’s like the pork chop: I don’t know what it is,” Myka says. “Except for the resonance.”

“Is resonance like instagramming?” Frank asks. “Unless it’s just for that, I’d go elsewhere.”

Helena glances kitchenward, then looks back at Frank. “So. A specialty, but not of this house,” she says, voice lowered, almost-but-not-quite comically cloak-and-dagger.

“Few blocks west for cooked seafood. Blue star on the door; can’t miss it,” Frank says, lowering his voice too.

They are beautiful co-conspirators.

“Oh, Oscar would have liked you.” Helena now sounds silky. Fey and silky, and Myka wants to wrap herself in that magicky silk.

“The Grouch?” Frank tries, a little flippant—but only a little. He’s keying on Helena’s every word.

“He certainly was,” Helena says, with approval, as if Frank has passed an exceptionally exacting test.

“Okay,” Frank says. His I-don’t-know-what-just-happened-but-I-think-I-liked-it tone is painfully familiar. “And for you?” he asks Myka.

“The beets and blue cheese salad, please.”

“A salad?” Helena gasps, clutching at her chest.

Could that level of indignation possibly be real? Myka ignores the histrionics for the moment and tells Frank, “A couple of vegetable sides too: the blackened carrots and also the steamed asparagus.” She then says to Helena, “They sound subtle.” Real reaction or no, Myka might as well start defending her choices.

“You vegetarian?” Frank asks. “Vegan? Kitchen can modify whatever you—”

“Not as such. I’m just not as carnivorous as she is.”

“Mm,” Helena noises, and Myka can already hear the “Aren’t you?” that will follow... she tries to shape a riposte, and she is so preoccupied with that impossible task that she nearly misses what Helena actually says: “I’m sorry. You should of course have what you want.”

Her contrition seems genuine. But in the end it doesn’t matter, for the reason Myka now articulates. “I do. This minute, I do.”

Which... flusters Helena? She looks down at the menu again, down then up at Myka, blinking, then turns her attention to Frank, as if he might save her. From an overload of honesty? Of resultant expectation?

Frank doesn’t seem inclined to offer any lifeline. Instead, he says to Myka, “Listen. If you’re into subtle vegetables. It’s not on the menu, but chef’s serving a really special kabocha squash with some of the meat dishes. I could bring you some of that too? If it doesn’t hit you right, no harm no foul.”

“That would be great,” Myka says. She doesn’t know what kabocha squash is, but she’s copped to enough unsophistication already; she and her phone can figure this one out, and anyway, squash is pretty much squash. It’s not some coffee-table-book pork chop.

“Thinking about those drinks?” Frank then asks. “I’ll tell the kitchen to expedite that steak though.”

The idea of making yet another decision is too much pressure; Myka declines. Helena declines too, in a way that suggests she is deferring to Myka, conforming to her wishes. It’s another bonus: not only does Myka not have to defend her choices, but she can in fact shape choices for both of them.

It’s as intoxicating as any cocktail.

Frank adds, “But with the meal? Maybe? I can bring out the full wine list.”

More pressure, and Myka, despite the fact that the thought of drinking wine with Helena is lovely, opens her mouth to say no. But then: “Do you have a recommendation?” Helena asks Frank. It’s defusing. As if she knows that’s how it hit Myka, as pressure but also as potentially lovely. And as if she wants to resolve “pressure.” So as to reach “lovely.”

“To stand up to that Delmonico, it’s definitely a cab. Sommelier likes to pair the Hall Coeur 2013. Young, but deep. Takes that journey, you know? It’s a Napa, from St. Helena.”

Helena raises an eyebrow at Myka. “A signal of approval for once?” Her voice rises, up up and away from cynicism.

The last thing Myka would ever do is quash that rise. Hearing it—knowing it applies to the two of them together—is another bonus. “Saint Helena,” she agrees, without irony.

As the meal proceeds, the bonuses multiply: Helena’s face lights up when the steak arrives, and that is of course a gift, as is the voracity with which she attacks it. But watching her begin to cut and consume the stark slab has a further effect on Myka, in that it puts her in mind of Helena’s basic personhood. Or, no: her animalhood. An animal, here a human one, eats a piece of meat. Throughout prehistory, recorded history, all the history, this throughline. “Let me try a bite,” Myka says, and Helena obliges, slicing, transferring across the table, connecting each of them, as a consuming animal, to the other, the two of them, as animals, to all others. There’s both thrill and comfort in that.

The service, too, is a plus: Frank attends to them with delicate discretion, never interrupting conversation, yet always appearing when a dish should be cleared, when the wine should be poured. Sleek. Smooth. In addition, this serves for Myka, surprisingly, as a sotto voce contrast to Helena’s aspect, revealing her as a bit less sleek and smooth than Myka always ideates her as being... why does the difference, if that’s what it is, seem so striking? Well, Frank is clearly practiced at his tasks. Experienced. Does that mean Helena, here being with Myka in this way, sitting and sharing, is in fact doing something... new?

Myka knows her preferred answer to that.

Also rewarding, completely unexpectedly: the kabocha, presented as thick slices that are charred but not smoky, seasoned but not overspiced, sweet but not cloying, creamy but not clottingly so. It’s unlike any squash Myka has ever eaten... thus squash is not pretty much squash. “I could have this squash every meal,” Myka says as she finishes the not insubstantial portion, literally licking her lips. She suspects her voice is betraying something very like rapture, and could this possibly be how Helena and Pete feel about those execrable onions? “Every single meal. For a week. A month.”

“I could do the same with this steak,” Helena says.

She’s managed to down an impressive percentage of its sixteen ounces, which prompts Myka to say, not entirely jokingly, “We may need to talk about heart-healthiness at some point.”

Helena takes a moment. Then she says, “Healthiness of heart... mine? Yours? Or both?”

It’s a bit sardonic, involving an eyebrow, and Myka berates herself for not having preconsidered, and consequently rejected, bringing up hearts, because they could not possibly be ready to speak directly about—

—but then Helena is extending her left hand, and Myka is meeting it with her right, and just like that, they are rejoined.

With her right hand, Helena raises her glass. “How did we fail to toast when the wine first arrived?” she asks.

“You were too focused on the steak.” Myka says this with affection. With familiarity. She can imagine—and wishes she could confidently predict—saying these same words to Helena again at some future celebratory meal. She can imagine—and wishes she could confidently predict—their hearts being made healthy by such continued affection and familiarity.

“That was certainly an error, and as our charming Frank would say, it’s on me. So I’ll toast now as I should have done then: To you.” Helena’s salute is candid. Open. As warm as her hand on Myka’s.

“To you too.” Myka has to raise with her left hand—it feels a little weird, but isn’t that appropriate for a first toast with Helena? “And to us,” she adds, a dare that Helena reward by not withdrawing her warmth or her hand.

Their hands are still joined when Helena’s phone announces its presence. The intrusion breaks their hold. Myka’s heart, just now so high, sinks, for such interruptions—of chats, of meals, of anything consequential—are so rarely good.

She braces herself for an adverse outcome.

She tries to hide the bracing by directing her attention to her remaining stalks of asparagus, slicing them into bite-sized pieces, then slicing them again, halves halved, quarters quartered, sixteenths sixteenthed, practically baby-fooding them as she aggressively pretends to ignore the words Helena is saying.

Not that those words are revealing: “yes,” and “all right,” and “I understand.” Repeated with slight variations.

Upon disconnecting, Helena says to Myka, “Apparently my reprieve has come to an end. I’ve been instructed to go to the airport.” Her voice is calm but somewhere sharp, a blanket smoothed over blades.

“A reprieve? That’s what this was for you?” Bracing had been the right instinct, but Myka had not expected that to be the body blow. “For me, it’s been a bonus.”

Helena inclines her head. “A bonus, certainly. If you prefer.” Smoothing, smoothing.

Myka does prefer, but she pushes back. Back to punishment, hoping to expose the blades. “What you prefer—what you called it, even if you don’t prefer it—matters more. If this was a reprieve, what was the sentence?”

“It wasn’t pronounced in any court, but from my perspective? To keep my distance from the Warehouse,” Helena snaps, then winces. “And the obvious corollary.”

Myka has hit her mark. And now, saying it out loud... that will make it real. So: “From me,” Myka says.

“From you,” Helena says back. Her saying it, realing it too: it’s gratifying.

“You can’t even stay for dessert.” It’s an absurd heaviness to put on such a silly thing, and it’s not like Myka would have eaten any dessert herself. But she would avidly have watched Helena do so... “I’m questioning the Fredness of it all,” she laments.

Helena turns quizzical, but there’s no way Myka can explain. Well, no: there’s no way Myka can imagine wasting time by explaining.

“My flight isn’t till tomorrow,” she says instead, plaintive. She’s seized by an impulse to—what is it?—go with Helena to the airport? Yes, of course she wants to do that, but there’s more—again, what is it?—to figure out a way to fly with Helena wherever she’s being sent, damn the consequences? Yes, that’s closer. But Myka can’t gift herself such a wildness. Not even for Christmas. Not even if she put herself on her own “nice” list.

Should’ve taken this to a hotel room, her body berates. Should’ve skipped to that. All this time wasted in a restaurant. Sitting. Menus. Should have pursued the satisfaction of what you’ve always known, from the marrow of your bones all the way out to your skin, is a greater hunger.

But. Even as her body tries to persuade her of its primacy, she thinks back over their interactions of the past hours. Would she trade them for that satisfaction? Would she really? Perhaps, in a different world—a more desperate one. But in this hopefully better world, this time was not wasted. All these bonuses... they were, they are, important. Conversation has been essential to each incremental increase of their intimacy. She shouldn’t discount it. She should celebrate it.

“I went to a wrong place just now,” she tells Helena, whose face is on pause—she must have been waiting for Myka to make even the slightest bit of sense. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to go with you? At least in the taxi?”

Helena’s post-pause expression is deeply indulgent. “I think you should stay and enjoy dessert. Let me imagine you seeing this unprecedented meal to a sweet completion.”

“I’m not really a dessert person,” Myka says, not wanting to be indulged quite like this, and additionally not wanting to misrepresent. “And anyway I don’t see how I could enjoy it with you gone. Could you maybe imagine something else?”

Helena softens; clearly, that was a good response. “What if I simply think of you. You eating your salad, your vegetables,” she says, then, “and one bite of bloody steak.” That’s another of those transcendent attentional gifts. One bite of bloody steak. Myka files that away for future comfort, even as Helena continues, “While I watched you do those things. Reveling in the fact that, as established, such a thing has never happened before.”

“I like that,” Myka says. “I know I’ll be thinking of you eating your steak, how I watched you. Which also, as established, never happened before.” She is compelled, however, to add, “But you’re leaving again. Which has.” She checks the time, and now it is Christmas Eve. She tries not to draw inferences from that.

“But I will come back.”

“When?”

“When I can.”

“Why did we get stuck in that elevator?” Myka asks.

“Because the mechanism malfunctioned. With intent?” Helena says that last playfully.

Myka doesn’t, here at the end, want to play. Play along. “I repeat, more existentially: why did we get stuck in that elevator? Bearing in mind that the elevator itself may not appreciate its role in the... grand design.”

Helena takes a moment. Then she says, “So that we might have this goodbye rather than, as before, none at all?” The words are a softness.

Myka wants to respond in kind. “Or—and?” Fighting against fearful reticence, trying to be truthful, she says, “So I could work my way up to saying this out loud: please come back. To me.”

Helena breathes. “And so I could say this to you: when I can, I will.”

They’re in public. How different might this have been if Myka had pushed them toward a hotel room? But she can’t help checking herself: it’s not like things couldn’t have gone spectacularly wrong in such a space. Plus an elevator would most likely have been involved, so...

In the space they are actually inhabiting, Helena now rises from the table. Myka does the same, moving to meet her.

They share a hug, one that terrifies Myka—because they’ve never touched like this before; because it feels awkward rather than natural as their bodies surge, press, warm; because if they can’t even hug right then what does that bode for anything else—but as they emerge from this confusion of arms and torsos, Helena says again, “I will.” Her assurance reshapes the ungraceful embrace into a profound affirmation.

The certainty heats into Myka: any goodbye, even a clumsy one, is a bonus compared to no goodbye at all.

But then Helena is gone.

And Myka is not at all surprised—yet still devastated—to be sitting alone at a table for two in a steakhouse in Cleveland on just-turned Christmas Eve.

“I’m sorry your lady had to leave.” Frank has materialized next to her, like he’s the Ghost of Christmas Bonus. Or, no: the Ghost of Christmas Bonus Rescinded.

“Story of my life,” Myka says, trying for a jest, fearing it’s a sob.

Frank juts his perfectly sharp chin like he’s considering a similarly perfectly sharp comment... but then his face gentles. “She paid the check and then some, so you can sit here forever if you need to.”

“I should probably go,” she says. Sad but true.

“Wait a second though. She said to bring you this, because she wants to make sure your heart stays healthy.” He places a small plate of kabocha squash before her. “She seems for real,” he concludes. But then, “Is she?” he asks.

Yet another gut-familiar reaction to the Helena of it all: not-quite-belief. “She is,” Myka testifies, again fighting that sob. Because before tonight, before today and tonight, her response would more likely have been “I hope so.”

As she eats an additional portion of absurdly delicious squash on Christmas Eve in Cleveland by herself, Myka considers calling Pete. He would at least rescue her from this sudden crush of loneliness...

... but on second thought, would he? Or would his presence make it worse, as it sometimes has before? Myka knows she’s at fault for that; she’s never really explained to him, out loud in words he would understand and accept, what Helena is to her. How entirely she matters.

Which in turn brings her to the keynote, which is that she should feel the loneliness. She owes it to Helena, for this is one of the visceral testaments to Helena’s significance: because her absence matters just as much as her presence.

****

When Myka gets back to the B&B the next day—after having been offered on both of her flights the opportunity to purchase a chicken salad sandwich, each time rendering her nostalgic and frustrated in equal measure—Steve is waiting for her.

“How was it?” he asks as he relieves her weary hands of the pen-bearing static bag.

“Really, really nice,” she says. For the resonance.

Steve smiles a smile Myka doesn’t understand.

TBC

[road2manjuumaster]

new nails bc i deserve it

[wiseatom]

anyway you can literally pry mike and will sw*ftie agenda from my cold, lifeless hands

[steelthroat]

I don't understand why some medicines taste so FOUL.

Like- what's the point in taking them if they're so bad they make me barf???

At least make them taste decently or not have a taste at all so I can take them without feeling like my organs are twisting on themselves and my tongue wants to detach itself from my mouth ffs.

[junovrsmp4]

three is not a crowd

OR

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

1

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

2

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

3

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

4

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

5

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[lvminy]

⋆ ACADEMIC RIVALS WITH SATOSUGU

mdni. f!reader, double p, oral both receiving, a couple spanks here and then, three way very messy kisses, mentions of reader drinking.

“she really is pretty when she's quiet, huh?”

truly the urge to bite Satoru's dick off was strong with that sneaky and unnecessary comment of his. “fuck you” you tried to mutter, dropping instead some slurred babbles that resembled a couple words.

“hey, don’t speak with your mouth full, have you no manners?”

“Satoru” this time it was Suguru’s turn to cut the —most likely— never ending back and forth, feeling his body weight dig into the mattress behind your arched form, “although I have to agree, she really looks pretty this way” he finished with a light and playful smack on your half covered ass, adoring the sight of your skin jiggle and cheeks almost hiding the thin fabric of your panties.

the motion forced your body to lean further and, unavoidably, choke on the white haired man’s cock, using your nails to dig crescent shapes on the pale skin of his thighs that twitched slightly under your touch.

“is she wet?” Satoru groaned, humping into your mouth for a bit before leaning across your back, a single hand on the top of your head while the other pushed on your lower back, not giving a damn if you choked again.

“yeah” the other man chuckled, using a single finger to slide the thin strap covering your cunt to let his eyes roam across the dripping soft skin, “she really is enjoying this”

you wanted to complain, really, but the adrenaline and a single glass of alcohol —which you knew wasn’t to blame— pushed you into the current tricky situation, making you whimper Suguru’s name when his fingertips came in contact with your entrance.

“ha, are you going to keep talking?” you bit back, breathing heavily while resting your cheek on Satoru’s upper thigh, lapping at the drooling tip that smeared precum on your chin; yet he didn’t reply, instead, there’s a short laughter before his tongue licks a fat strip all across your slit, paying special attention to your clit before fully diving in, leaving a sharp smack on your ass that causes nothing but another wave of arousal to drip down your hole and into his waiting mouth.

“needy little thing” the blue eyed man speaks, grinning when your eyes roll back and get unable to properly suck him off, it amuses him, how the competitive girl who was always bickering with them over grades could turn into such a lewd state this quickly.

“pay attention to me” he mutters, annoyed but teasingly, slapping your cheek with the tip of his cock all through the slurping wet sounds the dark haired man makes, causing his dick to throb and drip further.

you huff, mumbling a “childish” under your breath before taking him in your mouth once again, bobbing your head up and down until you feel his balls twitch under your chin, your own moans causing waves of pleasure to curse through his whole body.

“good girl” he exhales, jerking his hips up in sync with your mouth, “gonna let Suguru fuck you, hm?”

you nod, giggling your hips in an attempt to chase back Suguru’s mouth that detached from your drooling cunt much to your dislike.

the sound of a zipper and shoes clacking against the ground are quickly followed by a pop, from where Satoru took his dick out of your mouth, leaving only webs of drool connecting your lips to his tip.

“think you can take me now?” Suguru speaks with what seems like a smirk on his lips, giving Satoru a glance for him to push on your shoulders until your back is flush against Suguru’s chest, knees bent across the man’s stretched out legs, positioning you right above his hard length.

“stop acting like you’re the best shi— oh” both men chuckle at your lack of words since the engorged tip of Suguru caught your hole and began to stretch out your velvety walls, filling you so deliciously until your ass was flush against his pelvis.

“we should do this more often, when you’re not trying to fight us, of course” Satoru says while climbing closer to where you lay on Suguru’s chest, cupping the back of your neck to position your head slightly to a side, “stick out your tongue” his voice is low and demanding, forcing you to obey before feeling his and Suguru’s tongues mingling with yours, licking all over the muscle and your swollen lips.

there’s drool dripping down your collarbone that Satoru is quick to catch, making you mewl his name at the same time the dark haired man starts to thrust up into you, his hips precise and strong, making his cock fill your hole perfectly each time you breath.

“don’t stop” you whine, arching your back for Satoru to bite and lick your nipples to his heart’s content, while at the same time, guiding his cock to slap on your clit, purposely jerking himself off with the up and down of your body with each one of Suguru’s thrust.

“she’s squeezing me so much, I'll cum soon” Suguru groans, digging his fingers on your hips to help you ride his cock, feeling his own high approaching soon before getting rudely interrupted by the other man pulling you out of him.

“its my turn then” he smirks, sitting on the bed before impaling you down his own throbbing length, using his hands to cup your ass and drag you up and down his cock at a rapid speed, leaving an occasional slap on your ass that will most likely leave a mark the next morning.

“fucker” Suguru mutters, using the mattress to rub his cock while laying down and attaching his lips to your clit, forcing an orgasm out of your body in merely seconds, screaming both of their names.

“shit! I'm so close” Satoru growls, stopping himself from filling you up with his cum and instead, pressing you down on the bed, using your ass cheeks to fuck himself and cum all across the expanse of your back, while Suguru took your mouth and stained your pretty dizzy face.

“this doesn’t mean we’ll let you get better grades than us”

“fuck off”

[vivwritesfics]

(She's) Off The Track

Y/N is pregnant, not allowed to race, and she's pissed about it

When the video went up on everybody's social media, the fans panicked. It was similar, eerily so, to Sebastian Vettel's retirement announcement.

But she couldn't be retiring, could she? She was only in her mid twenties and hungry for a win. There was no way she was retiring already.

She sat there in the video, a white wall behind her, and stared. For a full two and a half seconds she said nothing, but it felt so much longer. Anxious fans waited chewing on their nails as they waited to see what was going on.

To Y/N, the person in the video, it felt like she was doing one of those youtuber apology videos. Well, this was a severe and continuous lapse in her judgement, but it had ended in something wonderful.

"It's with regret that I sit here before you all to tell you that I will not be partaking in the rest of the Formula One season," she said and breathed out, like a massive weight had been lifted from her chest. "In my place Liam Lawson will be driving in the second seat of the AlphaTauri."

"We thank you all for your continuous support and look forward to seeing all of you when I return to the grid next year."

She never said why, never let the fans know why she was going to be absent from the track. The fans still saw her everywhere, though. In the paddock, cheering on her replacement, or in the background of her boyfriends streams.

"This is your fault," she said as she sat on the beanbag behind Lando, placing malteasers into her mouth. "If it weren't for you, I would still be racing."

Although she sat it, it wasn't serious. It wasn't his fault at all. Actually, she didn't want to blame this on anybody; it was a welcomed surprise.

It had been a good sixteen weeks since she last sat in a Formula One car. There one race that Y/N wasn't at, leaving all the fans speculating where she could be. And then there was a two week gap between the races.

The next race she attended, something was clearly different. Lando held her hand, staying close to her while Martin Brundle interviewed her. He walked her to the AlphaTauri garage, something he didn't normally do, and didn't leave until she was being safely escorted by Daniel Ricciardo.

But the most noticeable difference was the baby bump was she sporting.

SHE'S PREGNANT!! said everybody online. It was maybe the best kept secret of the paddock.

Even though the secret was out, Y/N and Lando still didn't address it. If any interviewer tried to ask about the pregnancy, Lando would walk her away or place himself between her and the interviewer, protective fiancé mode engaged.

When the last grand prix she was allowed to attend before she had to stop flying rolled around, Y/N spent more time than usual in front of the car that should have been hers. Her hand rested on her stomach as she looked at the number 40 car. It should have been number 69, her driver number.

"Next year," she said through a sigh as Liam approached. He offered her a smile, the kind that said he sympathised with her.

Towards the end of the season she had to stop attending. There were only two races left and Lando was predicted to be on the podium for all of them.

And he was on the podium. She was forced to watch it from their television at home. She celebrated with a glass of water and a nap.

Y/N went into labour at the start of winter break. It was lucky, actually, that Lando was home and able to rush her to the hospital. He held her hand through it all and, soon, their baby boy was crying in his arms.

Ten months went by. Y/N and Lando spent the entirety of the winter break as a family, caring for their son, introducing him to the family (the grid family and their actual families) and celebrating firsts with him. When they brought him home, when he first slept in his crib, his first trip in the car, first trip in the zoo, taking him around the marina.

Lando took pictures of it all. His jpg account was full of these pictures, as long as they didn't show their sons face.

His first introduction to the Formula one world came when he was just ten months old, at the Brazilian Grand Prix. Before Y/N and Lando left their hotel, it had been a big debate over whether he was going to be wearing a McLaren onesie or an AlphaTauri onesie (Lando had won and they walked him around in a bright orange onesie).

The grid loved meeting Emmet "Chuck" Norris (Daniel thought he was really funny with that one). Emmets favourite people were Danny and Max, who had worked together to teach him to respond to his name of Chuck.

He sat in his parents cars and that was when Y/N and Lando knew, he was going to be a racer.

[marvelfilth]

Torn (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: set during AoA, kryptonian!reader, love triangle, established Natasha x reader - fwb situation, somewhat toxic!Natasha, smut, violence, jealousy

Summary: after your home planet is destroyed, you find a new home in Asgard, but when your brother brings you along to Earth, you find more trouble than you expected.

Masterlist

"F-fuck, Y/n. Right there… Yes." The woman below you pants in your ear, nails scraping down your back to grip your butt possessively.

Your hips move faster, deeper with each thrust, making her moan. "You could've told me you were coming back today," you grunt.

She digs her nails into your skin and you hiss in annoyance, slapping her inner thigh. "Do that one more time and I'm not fucking you for a week."

The spy lets out a throaty laugh that turns into a scream when your thrusts suddenly become harsh and uncoordinated, your hands pressing down her hips. Her tits bounce with each push, her perky nipples begging for attention. You look up to her tear stricken face, enjoying the sight of her reddened cheeks and bleeding lips.

"It was- fuck… u-undercover," she's breathless, stuttering, "... secret," she manages at last, pulling your face down to her breasts, knowing you still have something to say.

You're annoyed and maybe a little bit hurt, but you still let her guide you, eagerly sucking on the tender skin, grazing her nipples with your teeth.

Maybe she'll finally agree to talk to you after.

She comes with a stifled cry, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and gets up as soon as her body stops shaking.

You have a lot of things to say, but your mouth is suddenly too dry and your throat too hoarse, so you sit on the edge of your bed and watch her dress.

"Thank you," she kisses you on the corner of your mouth, lingering, nose nuzzling against yours when she pulls away.

She looks reluctant to leave and you hope she doesn't.

The door clicks shut on her way out.

×××

"No daydreaming on the mission briefings." Clint snaps his fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blink, eyes refocusing to see everyone staring at you in question.

"What?" You ask, shifting in your seat.

"Stark wants to know if you like your new suit," Natasha asks with a smirk on her face.

You look up at the screen in front of the room and there it is - yet another heavily modified piece of clothing you undoubtedly going to destroy on your next mission.

You can admit it looks better than the previous one, the red is much deeper and the blue is not as obnoxious, but they still clash, not coming together as seamlessly as the one you wore back home, but that's the best Stark can offer and you're thankful he's even trying, so you nod in appreciation and send him a grateful smile.

"Think this one will fall apart mid flight?" Thor teases, reminding you of one of your most embarrassing moments.

It happened when you first joined the team. Tony made you wear a suit he made, claiming it was good to match with the team, so you've listened to make him happy and fit in better. It's a good thing you wore your underwear from Asgard that day.

"Now that it's settled we should move on to the purpose of this briefing," Steve waited until he had everyone's attention before continuing, "now that Thor is finally here we can finally take back the Scepter…" he continues with the details and you easily tune him out, focusing on the redhead woman across from you instead.

The corner of her lip is still quirked up, her eyes trained on Steve as he gestures to the map on the screen behind him. You look down at your hands on the table, fiddling with your thumbs.

You wish you were better at reading humans.

“You okay?” Clint leans into your side to whisper discreetly.

You nod, managing a convincing smile. “Didn't get much sleep is all.”

He glances at Natasha not so subtly, his brows furrowing. You think he's the only one who knows about the two of you, or, at least, he suspects.

“You know what you're doing, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, not knowing at all.

×××

You're hovering over the base, looking through the walls for Scepter, when you first see her.

The girl looks about your age, you think, maybe a little younger, and she is busy talking to a silver haired man. They look too out of place, dressed like high schoolers and unbothered by the attack. You frown when the girl whispers a quiet "take care of the big guy" to the boy, your mouth dropping open in shock when he runs almost fast enough to go unnoticed by you. Almost.

Deciding it's your time to intervene you warn the team before landing in front of the back entrance, eyes trained on the girl behind the door. You don't know what she's capable of and you find yourself intrigued. The door opens with a squeak and you wince, mutterings a curse under your breath.

She's out of sight by the time you enter, but you can still hear her erratic heartbeat.

"Come out," you say, tilting your head to the right. You heard enough to know she's hiding in the shadow.

You hear her gulp before she steps into your field of view, her shoulder grazing yours as she comes to stand in front of you.

She is beautiful, you think, taking note of redness in her pupils.

"You know who we are," you wait for her to nod before continuing, "you can come with me." You offer your hand, palm up, and wait for her to decide.

She scoffs and her eyes turn redder. "What makes you think I want to?" There's red around her fingers now and you find yourself curious to find out what she can do.

You smile. "You will come with us one way or another. I'd prefer not to hurt you."

You realise your mistake as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Suddenly, there's red everywhere and you're out of the building, flying through the door to the other end of the backyard. You feel a pressing weight on your chest, and when you look down you see red wisps enveloping your body, keeping you pinned to the ground.

You look up when a shadow falls on your face.

She crouches with a smirk planted on her smug face, and moves your hair out of your face. "You can come with me," she offers, mirth in her eyes and you let out a breathless laugh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

"I'm afraid I have to say no," you whisper after a moment, strangely content at the mercy of your enemy.

She hums, waving her hand over you and you feel the weight disappear.

When you open your eyes she's no longer there.

×××

"You just let her go?" Natasha asks later that night, her head nestled on your chest after hours of hiding her moans in a pillow as you pounded into her.

You snort. "She's a witch, Nat, I don't think I can keep up with magic."

She lifts her head to look at you, eyes searching for something you're not even aware of. "You're the fastest person on this planet. Faster than her brother, and certainly faster than her."

You look away, closing your eyes in embarrassment. You didn't even think about your speed when you faced the witch.

You feel her get up from bed, and you open your eyes, reaching for her, "Natasha- " Her eyes flash, and you close your mouth.

She shakes her head. "She distracted you. And you let her go," she huffs and bends down to pick up her panties.

You get up and catch her wrist. "Can you tell me what's going on?" You ask, searching her eyes for an answer, but you're an alien and she's the best spy in the world so you're left even more confused.

She opens her mouth for a split second before snapping it shut. She pulls away and puts on a shirt before finally speaking, "I saw the footage."

You frown.

"Didn't know it only takes a little flirting and a pretty face to make you let an enemy go," she hisses through clenched teeth.

Your mouth drops open in shock.

"Are you-" you let out a breathless chuckle at the mere thought before finally getting yourself together, "are you jealous?"

You can hear her jaw grinding, can hear her nails dig into the soft skin of her palm.

And yet, you still can't believe what she just said.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, Natasha," you say, and a split second later you're dressed and out in the nearby field, searing up towards the sky.

You don't see her falling back into the pillow you layed on mere seconds ago, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

×××

There's a party the next day, and a part of you just wants to hop in your pod and disappear in the depths of space.

Another part of you wants to see Natasha happy and content, basking in the warmth of your arms. You know she'll never allow anyone to know about the two of you, but still, hope blossoms in your chest when you first see her go down the stairs. She moves right past you towards the bar, and you see Banner approach her with a nervous smile. His flirting is awkward and you pity the man, awaiting Natasha's response.

She flirts back.

"So… You and Romanoff?" Steve comes to stand beside you, smiling his fatherly smile, and you fight the urge to run away.

"You should tell her," he presses on, "she's not the most open person in the world, but from what I know about her, I think… there's a good chance for the two of you to be happy."

You've told her.

She doesn't like you back.

You shoot him a quick, awkward smile. "I'll think about it."

He nods, satisfied and walks up to the pair, his eyes widening when he overhears the last bit of their conversation. He winces and looks back at you, knowing you probably heard it all by now.

You shake your head at the concerned look he sends your way, and walk to sit on the couch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting your hearing go wild, listening in on an argument on the other side of the city, anything to remove yourself from this situation. The argument doesn't last too long, the engaged pair making up not even ten minutes later and you move your attention back to the party.

When you open your eyes Thor is sitting beside you, daring Clint to pick up his hammer. You sit up straighter, curious to see where it might go.

"Everyone knows it's some kind of a trick." His fingers wrap around the handle, but the hammer doesn't move an inch, much to the archers embarrassment.

Tony appears seemingly out of nowhere to make fun of Barton and you join in on the laughter, enjoying the rare moment of happiness, momentarily forgetting about your not so fun predicament.

Thor winks at you, enjoying this way more than he probably should, and hands you a bottle of Asgardian beer.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Natasha join your little game, Steve hot on her heels. She looks a little out of place, eyes laced with uncertainty when she sees an empty spot by your side. With a slight push from Steve she sits, careful not to touch you.

Banner is left standing a few feet away.

"It's simple physics," Tony grins, attempting to lift the weapon. His eyes narrow when it stays in its spot.

You rub your eyes when he decides to embarrass himself even further, calling Rhodes for backup and putting on his suit. The ridiculous game goes on, and Steve decides to try, you don't bother to watch, but then you hear metal scraping against the fine wood of the coffee table. Your head snaps up to look at Thor and immediately you know he heard it too, his eyes going comically wide for a split second before closing in relief when Steve doesn't pull harder, letting the hammer stay in its place.

"Natasha?" Banner nudges the redhead.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your bear. You want to go and finish the drink in the solitary of your room, maybe let out a few tears, but you promised Thor you'd stay until the very end, knowing he's set to leave in a few short days.

"I don't want to know the answer to that question," she says before taking a sip of her beer.

"Y/n?" Thor invites you to try, but you shake your head no, an excuse already on your tongue when you first hear it.

The screeching is loud enough to hurt humans, but to your enhanced hearing it's pure torture. You fall to the floor, covering your ears, letting out a silent cry and Natasha is by your side immediately, pressing you into her side, trying to ground your hearing. You hiss in pain, your head feels like it's being slit open, and you think Natasha is saying something, but you can't focus on a single thing.

The next second you feel her lips against yours and the sound is gone, replaced by Natashas frantic heartbeat.

"Focus on me, baby, come on," Natasha whispers against your lips, words barely audible. You nod, trying to regain your senses.

Her kisses move lower to your chin, then to your jaw, her fingers skimping under the hem of your shirt, setting the skin of your lower stomach on fire.

"Stay with me, baby," she mumbles in your ear.

There's a fight going on around you, robots flying around destroying everything in sight, but the only thing you see is Natasha's glistening eyes as she pulls away to check on you.

Then she's pulling you up and out of the room, narrowly missing a piece of metal flying her way, your eyes flicker around and you stop in your tracks, ready to join the fight and end it in seconds, but then there's a tug on your hand.

"They'll handle it. Let me take care of you."

You nod, feeling hope blossom in your chest.

Maybe Steve's right.

×××

They handled it and now you're off to Africa, getting ready to fight a villainous robot made of vibranium. The jet is weirdly silent - Tony's sulking in the corner, unusually quiet, Steve stares him down from his seat, jaw grinding in annoyance and you wonder what happened after Natasha led you to her room. You tried to pry away, ready to run back and join on the planning, but she didn't budge, staring you down until you relented and fell against the sheets, her fingers making quick works of your belt buckle.

Now though, she's back to acting like she doesn't care, her eyes trained on the skyline and you can't even pretend you aren't hurt.

"We are close," you warn the team, already searching for the target. Your eyes lock on the pair talking to Ultron. "The twins are there, on the second floor, talking to Ultron. We need to hurry."

Natasha looks at you for the first time since you boarded the jet. "Stay away from the witch. We'll handle her."

You scoff at her tone, mildly pissed at her bossing you around. "You're ordering me around now?" you force through gritted teeth.

Her eyes narrow and she looks like she wants to say more, but Tony pushes her out of the way to jump out of the jet, Thor and Steve following right behind him, and she's left glaring daggers at your back as you hurry along.

You look for the witch the moment you land.

She's easy to find, hiding in the shadows, waiting for a perfect moment to strike, while her brother runs around wrecking havoc.

"Little witch," you call out, startling her enough to make her jump up.

Her eyes flash in annoyance, but the second she sees it's you her lips stretch in a one sided smile. "I have a name, you know."

You nod, your lips stretching into a full blown grin. You remember how your last conversation ended, but you don't care much about the possibility of her hurting you.

"I won't," she says, like she just read your mind.

You suppose she might have, she is a witch after all.

She shakes her head, letting out a huff of laughter, "There's a lot of things I can do," her eyes flash dangerously, her smile now with a hint of malice, "make sure not to cross me." She winks and turns just in time to step out of her brother's way.

You blink, cursing yourself for getting so distracted again, and dart after her brother. It is an easy ordeal, and mere seconds later you have him pinned to the ground.

"You really should let me go," he grunts against the concrete, wiggling against your hold.

"I am an alien, not an idiot," you scoff, easing your hold on him just a little.

He stills for a moment, craning his neck to take a look at you, "An alien?"

His eyes are full of wonder, and suddenly you're reminded that the two of them are young, the same age you were when you first stepped foot on Earth.

You sigh, looking around for a cage of some sort or a piece of metal to bend around the runner.

"Why are you helping them?" He asks, wonder replaced by anger. "Do you know what he did?"

There it is. An old basement with a bulletproof door.

"Making a bomb and launching it at civilians are two very different things, you know?" You quip and his eyes flash in indignation, but before he can start his rant you push him inside, locking the door and bending the metal for a good measure.

"He did some shitty things in the past, but at least he never joined the Nazis."

You walk away, painfully aware of the truth in your words. Now that you've said it out loud you're faced with the fact that the witch you've grown to like just after two short interactions is not a good person.

Shaking your head you make your way up, one down, two to go. You squint in the dark, trying to spot Ultron, but he's nowhere to be found and neither is Tony, so you mentally brace yourself to face the witch again, but the second you step on the landing you see Thor's slumped form.

"Hey!" You shake his shoulders and slap his face for good measure and his eyes open. He's blinking rapidly, like he just woke up from a long nap, his eyes glossed over.

"Y/n!" He whispers feverishly, and pulls you in a bone crushing hug. "You're okay, of course you're okay. That witch. She warped my mind," he pants, pushing you away, "You need to make sure everyone else is okay."

You look him over, and once you're sure he's not hurt you nod, pulling him up to his feet, and take off in the direction of Natasha's heartbeat.

You stop in your tracks as soon as your eyes fall on the trembling woman. Tears stream down her face, but her eyes are focused on the floor, unblinking. She doesn't move when Clint presses her into his side, doesn't flinch when he hauls her up to her feet, but when her eyes register you she jumps as if burned, clutching at Clint.

You take a step closer, your own eyes watering, but she looks like she might throw up if you move any closer.

Clint sends you a look and shakes his head, mouthing, "I've got her."

She limps past you, shaking so violently you're sure even a human can notice.

They move past you and suddenly all you see is red.

Moving faster than the speed of light you have the witch pressed against the wall, her fingers clutched in your vice grip.

She looks up, her eyes wide and terrified.

Good, you think.

"What did you do to her?" You growl in her face, pushing her into the wall with your whole body.

No way you'll let her escape this time.

Her throat constricts. "I- Her biggest fear. I showed her her biggest fear." She sinks her body against the wall, trying to wrangle her hands out of your grip. Her heart is thrumming violently and you can't tell if the tiny skip of a beat is a result of her fear or her lie.

"She'll be fine in a few hours, I swear." Her eyes lock with yours, so unbelievably green, and you feel yourself slipping away. "Just let me go," she asks, pushing her body forwards, her fingers slipping away from your hold. Her face tilts forward until your lips are almost touching. “Let me go,” she whispers. You don't see the wisps of her magic swirl around her fingers, too focused on the way her lips move. Too many thoughts swarm your brain, but you find yourself focusing on one. You want her to close the gap.

"That's right, you want me to kiss you." Her lips almost brush against yours in a gentle peck. Your grip on her weakens completely and you're enveloped in her arms. Suddenly, she's everywhere. In your arms, in your head, in your heart. "I'm sorry about this," she whispers before pushing you off the ledge.

There's red everywhere and you find yourself falling and falling…

…and falling until your back hits the ground with a painful thud.

"Y/n! Get up. Come on." Your father helps you up, tilting your head to check the injury, but you can't focus on his face, all you can see is purple.

The planet under your feet rumbles, splitting open yet again, making your father forget about tending to your bloodied forehead in favor of hauling you up over his shoulder.

"No." You push against his shoulders when you finally realize where he's taking you. "No! I'm staying with you," you cry out, wiping the tears out of your eyes.

The sight in front of you is a nightmare. A sick, deranged nightmare. You can see the man responsible for this hold up the purple stone higher in the air, another powerful wave destroying everything in its wake.

"We have to fight, dad! We have to stop him! What about mom?!" You scream until your throat hurts, but your father doesn't budge, pushing you through double doors leading to the pods.

"We will fight," he promises, putting you down. "But you… you're destined for greatness, my child. You can't die fighting a losing battle." He places a kiss on your temple, pushing a syringe into your side.

You stare at him in betrayal, fighting against him with all your might, but your limbs get too heavy and your eyes start closing on their own.

You're pushed in the pod and your father types coordinates for Asgard. "They'll treat you as their own," he chokes, trying to fight tears, "I love you, my sweet girl."

"Y/n!"

You sit up, gasping for breath, eyes darting around the room.

"Y/n, a little help!"

Tony's voice sounds from your comms and you shudder.

"I can't-" you sob, looking around you, searching for the witch, but she's long gone, and all you can do is sit in the dark and hope someone will come and get you.

"I don't know what you saw there, kid, but our green friend might chew me up any second now. I really need you," he pleads.

Your hands shake and your legs tremble as you stand up, forcing the memory to the back of your mind. You close your eyes, letting the tears fall and tear through the roof, unaware of a pair of eyes watching you leave.

[anadiasmount]

lockeroom loving - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: after the recent win, jude can't help but take you against the place where he desired most since moving to his club. one place that will forever be now tainted of you and him.

wc: 2k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa🗣️: i wrote this so fast so excuse any grammar and punctuation! i also used this since someone requested! he just looked so good with that leather jacket, and my thoughts were thinking 🤭🤭. this blurb does contain smut so minors dni!! warnings and themes include: (blowjob, and unprotected sex, public/ private setting) 🔞 like always enjoy!! this one is very much 🫦🫦

“what’s up with you today hmm?” jude smirks, kissing your cheek, feeling you arms wrap around his middle as you continued to nibble and peck his neck. “can’t i admire my handsome boyfriend? who has 30 g/a after todays game?” you say cheekily.

jude laughs and carries you to the locker room. “no no no jude! not here it probably smells! please jude!” you say between laughs as he sits you where his locker is. your eyes roam over the letters that spell out his last name, squirming when he kisses your neck down to your collarbone. “that’s cute,” you point at the picture of you and him during christmas, also of his family and other friends.

“gonna keep talking or let me do what you’ve been begging me for since the morning,” jude said, your thighs clenching together as his hands sneakily ran along your waist to unbutton your jeans, teasing you by slowly unzipping your zipper. “in here? it’s to risky, jude,” you breathe heavily, jude wanting to remark as you threw your head back.

jude sat on the bench, you still standing, hands resting on his leather jacket. he spread his legs, seeing his prominent bulge poke through the black sweatpants he was wearing, you coming between. “y/n, y/n, y/n…” jude taunted, his large palms rubbing your clothed ass, making lose balance. “what am i going to do with you…” he drove your teasing further.

jude took his fingers and slowly pushed your jeans down, tongue poking through his lips when he saw you wearing the white lace underwear. “i don’t think we should do this h-here jude…” you tried to reason but we’re cut off by him slapping your ass, gasping out a moan as jude rubbed the area with his hand to soothe the pain.

“i have a feeling if we wait till we get home, the whole car ride you’re going to pull one of your stunts. no one is coming in believe me…” jude brought you closer to him, kissing the skin on your tummy. your nails scratched the back of his head, bringing yourself to your knees where jude loses focus, untucking your bottom lip and tracing your lips with his thumb. you felt bold, sucking the tip of his thumb where jude chuckled cockily.

“what does my good girl want?” he tsked, watching as you removed your jacket. “what does my boyfriend want? i reckon he wants to feel my lips here?” your smaller hand traced the bulge, all the way up to his abs, now hand on his jaw, watching as jude almost twitched. his cock felt hard, he needed to relieve the tension and pressure before he came in his pants.

you leaned up, kissing his lips messily hearing as he breathed louder and groaned, tongues dancing, lips smacking. your teeth biting his bottom lip watching it pull back and go back to place, jude staring at you intensely now with plump lips, sighing heavily. you crouched down again, looking up with innocent eyes catching the side smile jude gave you.

you untied the strings of his sweatpants, looking at the doors to ensure no one was coming. as much as you enjoyed the thrill and excitement of being fucked by jude in the locker rooms, it was so risky, so perilous. jude bucked his hips up, helping you as you drew down his pants and boxers.

jude's cock twitched in your hold, looking up one more time as your tongue licked his wet tip dangerously slow. jude grunted and threw his head back, closing his eyes as his chest repeatedly moved up and down. you kissed the aching tip so gently and feathery, down the base of his cock, where your tongue traced the vein upwards he had that popped out.

"s-s-shit," jude stuttered, looking down when you finally took him between your lips, your cheeks sucked in as you worked from the tip down his shaft. your throat slowly relaxed as you took him deeper, now breathing through your nose as spurts of spit made the whole length messy. easily accessible for your hands to work the place you couldn't fully reach.

"doing so good for me, just like that angel, taking me so well against these pretty painted lips..." his words made you whimper, clenching around nothing as you looked up once again. "you can do it angel, just a little more, you can fit it all in your mouth," he breathed out, as you pulled back and nodded, stroking your hand messily on his cock. so messy and wet, lips and jaw hurting from how big he was. but you didn't want to stop, you felt the need to make him cum.

jude groaned again, itching to push you down even further when your lips made contact at the base, his thighs shaking and almost squeezing you. jude almost cumming on the spot when your tongue licked the underside of him, as he looked down at you. so focused, so pretty, so pure. he would never admit it, but having and taking you here in the locker room was one of his dreams...

"breathe... there you go... just breathe, you got this, i know my pretty girl got it..." jude said when you gagged and choked on his dick, moaning in pleasure when you retracted again, squeezing his balls to further quicken his high as you control your breathing. "you're so good at this baby, so close to cumming for you angel," jude said making you smirk as you kissed his tip again.

he could feel his orgasm through the back of his head, his head cloudy and images of you down on your knees for him, hissing when you sucked around his cock again. with one final push, jude trembled, moaning and groaning as he came into your mouth, hearing as you hummed pleasurably.

you swallowed every last bit, the whole scene playing out pornographic which flew your mind into a frenzy. you loved having him wrapped around your finger at your mercy, especially like this. his rapid breathing, playful smile, closed and hooded eyes. you wiped your hands on the clean towel nearby.

he kissed you again, bringing you to his lap where his hands stroked your thighs smoothly, down to your ass again, giving it a squeeze in appreciation. you laughed, as jude placed a wet trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. "luckiest man alive... can't believe you are real and all mine..." he whispered, making your body heat up at his words.

"all yours jude."

"get on your hands and knees for me... look into the pretty mirror behind me," jude demanded, voice deep and groggy, patting your ass gently, holding back the laugh at how quickly you listened. his hands roamed your back, still wearing his "bellingham #5" jersey. "gonna fuck you with my shirt on," he placed two kisses on each ass cheek, moving your lacy underwear to the side, your wet folds seeking through.

jude rubbed two fingers along your walls, putting them into his mouth and humming in delight, "so sweet like candy." he gently hit his cock on your skin, watching how you pulsed around nothing. tapping his tip on your clit, then dragging it all the way up to your soaking entrance.

you wanted to roll your hips back, but knowing jude, he would make you wait and tease you till you couldn't take it anymore, crying out as you begged. jude guided and edged himself into you, his girth stretching your walls as he snugs his cock deeper and deeper, inch by inch.

you held back a moan, head hanging low when he retracted and trusted back into you. jude cursed loudly, grabbing both your hips as he slowly found a comfortable pace thrusting into you. a hand reached forward, bringing your head to look at him through the mirror. "i want you to be loud, wanna hear how good i'm making you feel..." jude requested.

jude grunted, your desperate moans echoing in the room as he took you from behind. balls slapping against your clit, which increased your high more. your hands gripping the walls of his locker as you looked behind you, jude still wearing that damn black leather jacket.

since you had seen the pictures, it was all you could think of. he looked straight out of a movie, so prevailing and squared. "fuck, fuck," you hissed as his tip kissed the perfect spot inside you, hands and legs wobbly, as jude squeezed your boob. "jude please, i'm so close, so c-c-close," you warned, eyes squeezing shut at the familiar burn and coil formed in your tummy. he was so deep, that you felt every ridge of him everywhere inside you.

"i know baby, i know, can feel you wrapping so perfectly tight around me. just, fuck, just wait a little longer, a little longer for me, i'm right there with you," jude struggled to say, feeling as you clenched around him as a warning. "so proud of you, this is what you wanted right?" jude taunted seeing as you nodded rapidly, your legs practically shaking with pleasure.

"tried to test me in the morning, and before i left, what if i left you here hanging left and dry?" he pulled back, hearing as you screamed out a no. "no please, jude please," you cried pushing your hips back to feel him. "turn for me, and lay on the bench," you obliged immediately.

“your eyes are so pretty…. love watching them roll back… when i hit this spot…” jude sunk and buried his cock back into you, making your back arch and moan out at the feeling. “i love you so much… you have no idea how fucking good you feel wrapped around my cock darling… so tight…” jude praised. "i l-love you too," you say out of breath, clenching your jaw as your teeth itched with your orgasm seconds away.

jude could feel you from the back of his hands, saying your name like a devoted prayer, his lips connecting with yours as he dragged his hips and pushed his final thrust into you, making the both of you cum, as the wave inside you burst. you each trembled in pleasure, legs wrapping around him to keep him in place as he cummed into you, the familiar warm and full sensation as he came returning again.

you guys laughed, your hands going under his leather jacket and shirt to scratch and roam his back, as he kissed your chin sweetly. he kissed all the way down the valley of your breaths, watching the sticky strings pull back as he did, his white seed falling down from your entrance. you lay there completely warn out, trying to catch your breath, as you continued to process what happened.

"still with me?" jude asked, wanting to be as gentle as possible since you got sensitive after sex. he knew it might not be the correct place, but still wanted you to have and treat you with the most aftercare he could offer you. "yeah, i'm here," you reassured, feeling how he grabbed a clean towel and cleaned you up, laying a kiss on your knee.

"promise you once we get home, i'll give you a bath, the hottest one just how you like. but first I'm gonna treat you to some food, want to make sure my pretty girlfriend eats something... how does that sound?" jude showered you with love, helping you put your clothes on, and cleaning the area where it all went down.

"sounds perfect."

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (2) II a.putellas x sister!reader

part one

so i kinda...angst'd a whole lot harder than planned? but the song listened to when breaking my own heart writing this was all the pretty girls by kaleo, i recommend a listen while you read! filling the void (2) II a.putellas x sister!reader

you tapped your foot somewhat anxiously as you sent a smile to the waitress hovering nearby, the older woman clearly wanting to take your order as she passed by for the fifth time since you'd sat down.

"buenos días pequeña." your attention shifted as your breakfast date finally arrived, your anxiety that she might not come melting away as you stood to greet her, the older girl pulling you into a hug as you kissed her cheek.

"thank you for coming." you smiled a little nervously at olga as the two of you sat down, the waitress appearing again within seconds as you both ordered a coffee and she left you be with a food menu.

"thank you for inviting me." olga smiled, hanging her bag on her chair. "not that i do not want to have breakfast with you nena, but can i ask why i am here? you did not sound like yourself on the phone this morning." olga started gently as you nodded.

through the few years she'd been with alexia olga had of course been welcomed into the family with open arms, and albeit the growing gap between you and your sisters you still liked her a lot and visa versa.

olga had been the most nervous to meet you when she first started seeing alexia, knowing both from her girlfriend and through the grapevine that you had been incredibly close with her last partner jenni before she and alexia broke up, olga fearing you might resent her for not being jenni.

but right away you saw how happy olga made alexia and how she often brought out a different side to your eldest sister, something goofier, more juvenile and softer like when alexia was younger and there was far less responsibility on her shoulders weighing her down.

"sí, i wanted to apologise to you." you got right to the point, your sisters girlfriend quirking an eyebrow curiously but nodding for you to continue.

"i had no idea the event my friends invited me to was yours i promise, if i had known before i would not have agreed to go. but they bought my ticket for me and i only realized when we arrived that it was manuelas. then i tried to tell them why i couldn't go in but they insisted and i wanted a night out." you started, twisting the rings on your fingers nervously.

"but i should have thought about it more before i agreed to go inside. if someone found out i was underage and you were serving me alcohol you could have been in a lot of trouble and i did not think about anyone but myself." you sighed deeply, a noise which held far too much responsibility for someone your age making olga frown a little out of concern.

"so i am very sorry." you wrapped it up as your coffees arrived, thanking the waitress with a smile as you took a cautious sip and awaited olga to speak.

"thank you for apologizing pequeña." olga started softly once she'd had a mouthful of her own coffee, nails tapping absentmindedly against the burnt orange ceramic mug cupped in her hands.

"but i am not mad, and i was not mad at you the other night. i was just worried for you and for your safety which is why i tried to find you in the club before you ran away. but i can see now that i did not need to be because you are much more mature than any seventeen year old i've ever met, myself included." olga chuckled as she took another sip of coffee, a small smile curling onto your lips.

"but next time you want to go out with your friends to one of my events you come to me about it first, sí?" olga's tone became a little more serious as you quickly nodded in agreement.

"buena. or else i will have to stick pictures of your face behind the bar with a do not serve sticker across your forehead!" the older girl grinned teasingly which you returned, tension sucked away now as you visibly relaxed.

"so, estamos bien?" you checked in as you both grabbed the menu's to look at ordering some food. "sí pequeña, more than okay. but breakfast is on you since this is an apology!" olga winked making you laugh and agree with a nod, the two of you falling quickly into a different conversation.

~

alexia looked up from her phone as the front door opened, smiling at her girlfriend who stepped through and hung her keys on the hook, the spanish captain standing quickly to greet her.

"hola mi amor." olga laughed against alexia's lips which were quickly pressed to hers in a series of soft kisses, breaking apart and heading for the kitchen as alexia took her seat back at the counter.

"how was your meeting?" alexia questioned, ready to leave for training in an hour or so. "was not a meeting." olga shook her head, opening the fridge intending to make a list of what was needed so she could go shopping while alexia was training.

"i met your sister for breakfast, she called and asked me while you were in the shower this morning." olga explained, nails tapping away at her phone screen noting down what needed to be bought.

"so alba can see you but not reply to me? i have called her three times this morning!" alexia groaned in annoyance with a roll of her eyes, pulling out her phone intending to give her younger sister a piece of her mind.

"no amor, not alba." olga's hand gently pushed the phone down as alexia frowned. "oh. you saw fresa?" alexia's eyebrows shot up in surprise as olga hummed with a nod of confirmation.

"she called to ask you out to breakfast." alexia echoed as again olga nodded. "sí, she wanted to apologise for the other night." olga started gently, knowing the last few days had been a large wake up call both for alexia and alba who had been in near constant contact trying to work out how to fix things.

"really?" alexia asked in disbelief. "really. ale sometimes i forget she is only seventeen, she has a very good head on her shoulders. she even paid for breakfast too." olga smiled as alexia sat there stunned, drumming her fingers on the counter clearly lost for words.

"you called to invite her over for dinner this week?" olga asked softly capturing her attention again, rounding the corner and slotting herself in between the taller girls legs.

"i tried but she will not answer alba or i, both our texts or calls she just blanks them." alexia sighed as olgas arms draped over her shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the base of her neck relaxing her a little as alexia's own hands settled on her girlfriends hips.

"can you blame her cariño? when is the last time you called her just to talk to her?" olga spoke carefully, alexia looking as though she might argue before she deflated. "i cannot remember." the blonde muttered, shame obvious in her features as she looked away.

"how did i miss this? how did i mess this up so badly? she hates me olga and i cannot even fault her for it!" alexia laughed bitterly, the brunette wincing in sympathy.

"she does not hate you mi vida, venga." olga grasped her lovers hand, pulling her off the stool and leading her over to the sofa, sitting down and gently tugging the taller girl to lean into her side, hugging her tightly.

"she should after what i said the other night." alexia admitted after a few moments of silence had passed, pulling away slightly as olga gave her a curious look and alexia sighed, not having been completely honest with her about everything.

"i was so angry with her and the fact she did not seem care about what could have happened. but i was just so scared, what if someone spiked her drink? took advantage of her? hurt her? anything could have happened that night and i have been so absent i would not have even known. something could have already happened and i would not know!" alexia exhaled shakily, olga tracing a thumb over her knuckles.

"but what did you say to her amor." olga pushed gently, alexia avoiding her eyes as she paused for a moment. "i told her she was a careless, stupid, selfish little accident." alexia admitted quietly, olgas hands immediately withdrawing from hers as she recoiled in shock.

"alexia." the brunette managed out in disbelief. "i know. i know, it was horrible and cruel and i knew it would hurt her. i was so angry and scared i lashed out at her." alexia recounted, the memory burned into her mind like a branding, the blonde had been replaying it over and over for the last few days.

"you have not spoken to her since? apologized?" olga frowned as alexia shook her head. "no, alba and i have both tried but she just does not answer." alexia dragged her hands down her face, cheeks burning with shame that she once had the nerve to call herself your protector.

"she used to be this tiny perfect little baby, i remember the day she was born alba and i were so excited. when mami told us she and papi would be having another baby we were always happy, always supportive. mami was so worried we would resent her because there would be such an age gap, making us promise we would never." alexia started, voice hoarse and raspy as she avoided the burning gaze of her lover sat beside her.

"but from the very moment i laid eyes on her i promised i would never let anything hurt her, i would spend my life looking after her and making sure she knew she was so loved. she was so small when i first held her, our abuela knitted her this little blue blanket and beanie and my pinky didn't even fit in her tiny hand. she had rosy cheeks and bright eyes and she was perfect, our little bundle of joy." alexia recounted fondly, olga shuffling a little closer and placing a hand on her knee.

"our papi used to joke that she was born with a personal security team. the first few months she was home alba and i would argue over who got to hold her, help with feeding, dress her. at night we would drag our pillows in and sleep on the floor by her crib, we used to talk to her for hours and she would just giggle at everything." alexia smiled looking off into the distance with a forlorn gaze.

"then as she grew up and got a little older she could be so annoying. always following alba or i around wanting to do whatever we did, always wanting to be around us and just like us, copying anything we did, stealing our clothes to wear too. but i used to get her to mimic whatever alba said for hours and hours, she hated it but fresa always did whatever i asked." alexia chuckled at the memory, a small smile tugging at her lips before it slowly faded.

"but the way she looked at me the other night, like i was just a stranger in her home who she didn't even know. where is my little pequeña with strawberry stains all over her shirt who looked at me like i was the center of her universe? our fresa." alexia managed to whisper out as olga winced.

"mi amor, she grew up." the brunette spoke softly as alexia nodded. "sí. i took my eyes off her for a second and now she is all grown up, and i have failed her as a sister." alexia muttered bitterly, angry now at herself and how she had been so selfish and blind to everything.

"then fix this alexia. make things right with her before she grows up anymore and it is too late."

~

you'd not heard them arrive as you were in the shower getting ready to hang out with your friends, eli surprised to see both her other daughters at her front door when she opened it.

"hola mami. can we come in?" alexia started, both girls having been far too ashamed of their behavior to reach out much this week as eli nodded and moved aside, both her girls kissing her cheek hello.

"is fresa here?" alba asked hopefully as they both took a seat at the island, eli returning to the kitchen to keep making dinner. "sí, she is in the shower." eli nodded, turning around to stir the rice boiling in the pot as alexia and alba shared a look.

"so you have both thought about what we spoke of?" eli asked without turning back around, glancing over her shoulder her eldest two nodded. "we have and we want to fix things. we really really want to fix things with her mami, thats our baby." alexia spoke for the two of them as eli turned around with a small smile.

"i told you both, she is not a baby anymore." eli cautioned gently, scraping the vegetables off her chopping board and into the pot. "she will always be a baby, our baby. but we know she has grown up mami, and we want to be there to watch her continue to." alba spoke now as eli hummed.

"so you are both going to make an effort then? and because you want to, not because you feel you have to?" eli clarified as her daughters nodded in promise.

"we don't know how we let it get so bad mami, we thought she was just...spending time with her friends, that she didn't need us around as much." alexia admitted guiltily as eli only hummed.

though before another word could be said footsteps were heard and your eyes widened as you stepped into the living room and suddenly there was 3 pairs of eyes trained on you.

"hola hermanita." alexia spoke first, tone soft and as she smiled your hackles went up, sure that this had to be some sort of trap. "hola." you replied back curtly, tearing your eyes away and edging around the room.

"i'll be home later mami." you smiled grabbing your house keys as your hand hovered on the door handle. "wait hija!" eli called out as you raised an eyebrow.

"can you stay for dinner? meet your friends after, i made your favorite." eli offered, though her tone conveyed that this was still your decision, not wanting to push you into anything as you tried to ignore your sisters eyes boring into the side of your head.

"vale, i will message them now." you agreed with a small smile, hurrying back to your room before anyone could say another word. as alba went to stand and go after you eli sent her a look which said it all, they needed to let you come to them.

"nena! dinner is done." eli called out to you a few moments later as alba set the table and alexia helped dish up. "i can go get her?" the eldest putellas offered when everything was ready and you'd still not ventured out of your room.

eli nodded and alexia set off, pausing outside your door with a hand raised, pausing for a moment before knocking gently, stepping back suddenly as it swung open.

"dinner's ready fresa." alexia smiled as you only nodded curtly. "don't call me that." you replied quietly, shuffling past her and heading for the living room as alexia frowned and deflated at your words.

"why not?" alexia followed after you though if you heard her you made no move to acknowledge it, alba patting the chair next to her with a hopeful smile as you ignored the offer and sat down next to eli.

alexia knew she should drop it, try not to push and let you come to her but as you all sat down to eat she couldn't help it. "why can't i call you fresa?" you paused at the question before rolling your eyes.

"because i'm not a baby anymore, its a stupid nickname." you mumbled before shoveling a forkful of food into your mouth, eli sending alexia a sharp stare warning her to drop the topic as she started to argue your answer.

an awkward silence fell around the table as you shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the four eyes boring into you across the table as you stared down at your food and tried to pretend it was like any other night and they weren't there.

but given the set table and change to your regular routine, it was hard to ignore completely.

growing up you'd always had a strict family rule about eating all together and always at the table, no exceptions. though as the years passed and suddenly it was just you and eli she had softened, the two of you often sitting together on the lounge eating dinner and watching some sort of spanish soap most nights.

"so, how is work going?" you heard alba ask and assumed the question was directed at your mami, zoning out a little until you felt a gentle nudge to your shoulder and looked up, blushing when you realized your sister was actually asking you.

"its fine." you shrugged quietly, a pause following as everyone waited for you to elaborate. when you didn't eli decided to step in, taking the slightest amount of pity on the obvious struggle your sisters had to try and mend things.

"she can now test and take the blood, she is thinking about going to medical school." eli spoke proudly as you glanced at her with a small smile and your sisters eyes widened in surprise.

"to become a doctor?" alexia asked quite stunned as you scoffed. "no to become a firefighter." you rolled your eyes again as alba snickered quietly, wincing as alexia stomped on her foot and shot her a glare.

"to become a nurse." eli corrected as you nodded. "what about tennis, do you have a competition coming up?" alba asked as you gave her a strange look. "i don't play anymore" you reminded as she frowned.

"how is mariona?" alexia asked next, referencing your childhood best friend, someone you were no longer friends with. "how would i know?" you shrugged still looking down at the table in front of you and starting to eat a little faster, uncomfortable with all this sudden attention and interest.

"well she is your best friend, no?" alexia questioned in confusion. "no she's not." you mumbled shifting a little as eli caught her daughters eye and subtly shook her head, urging her away from the topic as alexia frowned but dropped it none the less.

"i didn't think you liked peppers pequeña, used to fight and kick and spit them out." alba chuckled quickly changing subjects as you continued to eat. "almost like when people grow up their tastes change, crazy!" you muttered sarcastically as your sisters grin fell away.

"what about art? are you still taking classes?" alexia swooped in next as you raced to finish your food and eli watched on at the trainwreck this dinner was fast becoming. "don't do that anymore." you answered quietly among mouthfuls.

"why? you were so good fresa." alba frowned as there was a clatter as you dropped your fork into your now empty bowl. "don't call me that. i'm not your fresa, or your pequeña, or your hermanita or your chiqui. i'm not a baby anymore!" you warned with a huff, grabbing your empty bowl and standing.

"can i go now please mami? my friends are here." you asked eli in a much calmer tone who nodded as you darted to the kitchen, rinsing out your bowl.

"i'll be back late, don't wait up." you ducked down to kiss eli's cheek and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your keys. "what you don't say goodbye to us anymore?" alexia spoke up as alba elbowed her with a glare.

"oh no i forgot alexia. it must have been an accident!" you bit back, clearly intending your words to mean something else, enjoying the way your eldest sisters face paled.

"hermana i really need to-" but alexia couldn't finish her sentence before the door was closing and you were gone. "nice one ale." alba mumbled with a shake of her head, grabbing her and eli's bowls.

"don't wait up, how late does she normally get back mami?" alexia asked with a frown, ignoring her younger sister who was washing up their dishes.

"whenever. she has never been dishonest with me about her plans, i trust her and she is responsible, more than either of you two were at her age." eli pointed out as both girls scoffed. "mami!"

"so she just comes home in the middle of the night and you say nothing? she's seventeen!" alexia scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"like i said alexia, i trust her. she might be seventeen but she has had to grow up a lot faster than most girls her age trying to keep up with the two of you." eli warned softly as alexia fell quiet. "those are her friends?" alba asked, watching out the window as you walked up to a car and two girls got out.

alexia was up and by her side in an instant, both your sisters watching you hug the two older girls before getting into the car and taking off. "they are too old for her to be hanging out with. what about all of her other friends from school? mariona? natalia?" alba questioned with a frown.

"like i said hija, your sister has grown up a lot faster than other teenagers. as for mariona, you will never mention her name in this house or around your hermana again. sí?" eli spoke firmly as both girls frowned.

"why? mami what happened?" alexia questioned as the older woman sighed, both girls taking their seats at the table across from her again. "when your sister left school, she drifted from her friends. nothing bad, but she worked and had different interests and schedule availability than they did. but mariona did not take it well." eli started to explain.

"she invited fresa to a party saying she missed her and wanted to reconnect, i dropped her there and everything seemed fine. your sister called me a few hours later and she was very upset, i picked her up and she wouldn't tell me what happened at first." eli sighed with a shake of her head.

"what happened mami?" alba asked quietly.

"your sister was seeing someone, only for a little while but she liked her a lot, it was her first girlfriend. mariona and this girl told her at the party in front of everyone it was all a bet to embarass her, the girl said she never liked her, everyone laughed at her and she left." eli finished with another deep sigh.

"they grew up together, they were best friends. how could she do that?" alba asked in disbelief as alexia sat beside her seething. "why does a sixteen year old girl do anything nena? teenagers can be cruel." eli smiled sadly as alba hummed.

"i will kill her." alexia stated with a determined nod, rising to her feet as eli scoffed. "you will do no such thing and you will not mention a word of this to your sister! sit down and promise me alexia." eli warned sternly as the blonde locked eyes with her, eli raising an eyebrow daring her to argue.

"prometo." alexia mumbled, sinking back down into her seat. "why didn't she tell us? she used to tell us everything." alba spoke up now as alexia sat back with her arms crossed and a stormy look on her face.

"she did, and then you both stepped away and fresa had to find other people to go to. those girls might be older but they are her friends, they were there for your hermana through all of that. they have looked after her and helped her in the ways i would have expected you both to, they are good girls and good friends to fresa." eli's tone was swift as again, needing to cut into both her daughters in front of her.

"but they aren't her sisters mami, we are. she's supposed to come to us, so we can protect her and look after her." alexia grumbled, still with a face like thunder, a slight jealousy brewing in her eyes.

"sí, but you have not done either of those things lately alexia and if you want to fix this then you need to admit that to yourself and own it. your sister had to find other ways to protect herself and other people to care about her when she felt like both of you stopped." eli raised her voice slightly now as alba shrunk into her seat wracked with guilt and alexia's hardened gaze fell to the ground.

"she tried to come to you and i watched her be hurt and dismissed by both of you and i will always regret not stepping in sooner. but i am stepping in now and if you both do not want to lose her forever, make the effort, do the work and fix this."

~

you waved goodbye to your friends as you arrived to the front door, rummaging around in your hoodie pocket for your keys, shoving them into the lock and stepping inside as your friends peeled off having waited until you got inside safely.

when you heard the tv you shook your head with a smile, closing and locking the door behind you as your keys dropped into the bowl with a clink.

"mami i told you not to wait u-" you fell silent as you rounded the corner and realised it was in fact not your mami sat awake, but rather both of your older sisters were staring back at you, a movie playing in front of them which neither seemed to be paying much attention to.

"oh, you're not mami." you mumbled, giving them a suspicious once over. but before you could even blink suddenly two taller bodies were pressed against you and you tensed at the unwanted and unexpected contact.

"qué es esto?" you asked, arms pinned down to your sides as your sisters clearly attempted to force you into some sort of group hug. "get off!" you huffed, trying to push them off or wiggle away to no avail.

"just hug us." alba demanded as you rolled your eyes and managed to shove her away, darting out of alexia's reach as she grabbed for you next. "you are both so weird." you grunted out with a scowl, hovering in the hallway.

"why are you still here anyway? do you not have your own homes to go to." you rolled your eyes once you had, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie.

"you know at one point we used to live here, it was our home too fresa." alba spoke up first with an amused smile which only soured your mood. "yeah used to." you mumbled under your breath.

"and i told you both to stop calling me that." you spoke up louder now with a small huff. "since its miraculously your home again you can both show yourselves out then." you rolled your eyes yet again and turned to head off to your own room.

"fres-no wait, por favor." alexia called out as you stopped, shoulders dropping as again you looked toward them. "we waited up and thought you might want to watch a movie? we could stay over and all hang out." alexia asked perking up hopefully as alba nodded in agreement and sent you a smile.

"why would i want to to do that?" you replied bluntly, raising an eyebrow as you looked coldly back to both of them. "pequeña we know we have not been around or been there for you like we should have been lately, we want to fix that." alba started gently as your eyebrows furrowed.

"oh sí? you do?" you perked up as if interested as both of your sisters both brightened. "well i don't, i told you both the other night. stay out of my life!" your fake enthusiasm dropped as your eyes narrowed into a glare.

"hermanita por favor we-" alba again continued as you scoffed and shook your head, taking a step forward and cutting her off. "i am not your fresca or your chiqui or your pequeña or your hermanita. i am not a little kid anymore, the two of you made sure of that." you spoke so coldly it was near unrecognisable.

"what is that supposed to mean?" alexia frowned as you barked out a laughter which was anything but humerous. "i think you know exactly what it means. i am not stupid, i am smarter than both of you and i do not need your pity or your guilt now your heads are out of your asses!" you snapped, fists balled by your side.

"your friends cannot replace us even if you try nena, we are your sisters by blood. you will not succeed in pushing us away." alexia spoke holding her head a little higher as you snickered in disbelief.

"oh i am pushing you away am i ale? i am pushing you? would you like me to push you alexia?" you stepped forward and shoved at her chest, the towering girl barely moving as her hands grabbed yours.

"get off!" you hissed trying to pull your hands free. "no. i love you and i will fix this, we both will." alexia's voice wavered for just a moment as you fought her to let you go as she just attempted to bring you into a hug.

"quítate de encima!" you yelled now, your chest growing tighter with anxiety and feeling like a cornered animal as your sisters strong arms refused to let you go. "alexia." alba warned quietly, catching her eye as alexia shook her head.

"no! i love you. i love you vale? i am so sorry for not showing it and making you feel like i did not fresa. i love you mi hermanita!" alexia let go of your hands and grabbed at your face, forcing your eyes to lock with hers.

with a broken grunt you wrenched them away and shoved her again, catching her off guard as she stumbled backward and grabbed the corner of the counter to stop from falling over.

"hey hey, take a breath chiqui por favor, lets all just calm down." alba tried to coo at you, stepping closer as you instantly recoiled and shook your head. "why won't you listen!" you yelled at her now, chest heaving to try and force back the sob which wanted to rip free from it.

"i am not a baby anymore. you want to fix things? you love me? you miss me and suddenly want to hang out with me? ask me questions about my life? as if you suddenly care?" you could only whisper out now as hot tears began to pool at the corner of your eyes and you angrily wiped them away with the back of your hand.

"hija." your head whipped sideways to see eli stood a few feet away with a concerned gaze as you wordlessly shook your head. "no. no! no. vete a la mierda!" you spat venomously at the two older girls and took another step back still shaking your head.

"you both have no idea what it is like to go from having a home filled with laughter and love and noise to nothing. one day we were all living here and it was happy and i was happy and you both cared about me. we ate dinner together, we went to watch barca, we would stay up late watching movies and go for drives. but then the next suddenly it was just me here, just me." you started, swallowing hard as your nails buried crescent shaped dents into your palms where your fists were tightly clenched by your side.

"I had to watch the two of you grow closer and closer, going on trips together, out for dinners, to concerts, eating meals at each others houses, to football games together when ale was injured, through a phone screen." you continued, everyone else stunned to silence at the outburst which eli had feared was a long time coming

"when i felt you both pulling away i tried reaching out. for months i tried calling, texting, i barely got one word replies or your voicemails. i posted photo after photo after photo of me hanging out with friends just so you might see and invite me to hang out with either one of you!" you confessed, again angrily wiping away a few stray tears.

"you don’t come over for family dinners anymore but you always seem to be eating at each others houses without me, you didn’t even notice I stopped coming to your stupid football games alexia, and you didn’t even notice we haven’t gone for breakfast in months when we used to go every single sunday alba, every one!" your voice raised again as you swallowed down a hard lump and continued.

"but why would you notice? i am just a-what was it ale? a stupid, selfish little accident." you growled as your sister rapidly shook her head.

"no no no mi pequeña por favor i did not mean it, no no no lo siento mucho i did not mean it, promesa." again your eldest sister surged forward to cup your face in her hands, heart breaking at how small and defeated you suddenly looked. "off!" you harshly pushed her away and shook your own head.

"you meant it, and you knew it would hurt me and thats why you said it. at least own that alexia, own it!" you yelled those final two words so hard your throat started to hurt, exhaling shakily.

"my entire life i have done nothing but look up to both of you. i have held you both on a pedestal for years and i wanted to be just like you. i looked at you like super heros por el amor de dios!" you laughed as a sob got caught and came out more like you were choking.

"but then you left me behind and suddenly i did not matter, my life did not interest you, i was not old enough or cool enough or whatever to gain any of your time or care anymore. you both left me here all by myself without a single word! you. left. me." you worked to choke out, fighting to catch your breath as your body shook.

"when you both left everything I did was to try and get you to want to spend time with me again. i played tennis so you might come and watch my games and be proud of me alexia, you never came. i did art so you might see and want to come to a class with me alba, you never did. i forced myself to grow up and try to seem like I was more than just your annoying little hermanita, so you might look at me like a friend and want to hang out sometimes." you shook your head, the tears now flowing freely and leaving a salty bitter taste in your mouth as you spoke.

"but none of it worked and I watched you two grow closer while i never felt further away. so my friends are older but they care about me, they want me around and they ask about my day and they invite me on trips and out for dinners and we go get lunch and we have sleepovers and watch movies and go to the beach and go for drives late at night singing to the radio." you listed off not even pausing to take a breath.

"all the things I used to crave the two of you wanting to do with me like we used to but you never did. so I filled that void, and i no longer care what either of you think. i grew up, by myself. i have my own life, my own support system of friends that love me and want to spend time with me. who know what i like and remember my interests and actually ask me about them because they care not because they suddenly feel what? guilt? hermana's there is no need. i had my time to be hurt, and let me tell you it hurt to watch the two of you leave me behind and ice me out when i did not even know why or what i did." you laughed again, a hauntingly broken noise which echoed around the otherwise dim and silent living room.

"so no. i do not want to watch a movie with you or be interrogated at dinner with a million questions of my life because neither of you can bother to call me or see me or care about what i am doing. i want you both to listen to me, know how much you hurt me, and just like you have been, i want you to leave. me. alone." your voice once again cracked on that final word as you spun around and all but sprinted to your room, slamming your door and sinking down against it with your head in your hands.

"i need you both to leave, now." eli spoke up quietly breaking the thick, uncomfortable and unbearable tension which had festered around the room, your sisters stunned to silence for once in their lives.

"mami-" alexia started, voice hoarse and croaky as eli shook her head and pointed to the door. "go." she ordered, refusing to meet either of their eyes which desperately bore toward her seeking any sort of comfort or solace, a gentle reminder that this would all be okay, that you could all work it out.

but they recieved nothing.

so with heads bowed and tears edging at the corners of their eyes they did as they were asked, eli only finally looking up once she heard the front door close and a car engine start, locking the door and hurrying to your room.

"oh mi preciosa." eli sighed, slowly opening your door and finding you curled into a ball on your bed, body wracked with sobs silenced into the pillow pressed against your face.

the moment you felt the bed dip you sat up and all but launched into her awaiting arms, breathing ragged and broken as you struggled to try and stop the tears which seemed to have burst like a dam.

eli's heart broke both at the sight of you and the realization of just how deep these new cracks ran within her daughters as she pressed soft kisses into your hairline and hugged you tightly.

"todo saldrá bien nena, te lo prometo."

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

part three

[loveforeren]

My friend requested race car driver Miguel. I found it intriguing so here yall go. Also, imma just do RCD!Miguel because I'm lazy. Feel free to request stuff. I have rules when it comes to writing js go and look at my masterlist for the rules.

RCD!Miguel swears he can't win a race if he doesn't eat you out the day of each race.

"Cariño, you know what I need to do to win," he exclaimed as he ran has hands over your waist.

"It's not a need Miguel. You just want to." You replied.

"No...I need to. It's my good luck ritual~" He grinned.

"Good luck ritual?" You rolled your eyes.

"Please~ Baby I need to." He whined.

RCD!Miguel keeps on insisting that you should give him head in the car as he drives.

"Mami, come on~! We'll be fine!" He'd whined.

"No. Absolutely not Miguel." You'd say sternly.

RCD!Miguel will be getting ready for a race, and spot you in the crown jumping up and down screaming his name. His eyes zero in on your chest. He'll waltz over to you and pull you into a feverish kiss leaving a hard smack to your ass as he goes to finish preparing to race.

RCD!Miguel has you in the car with him in some race. He'll claim your his little cheerleader.

"Seat belt on, baby. Sit back and relax nothing is going to happen. I'm the best racer on this track." He grins as his hand rested on your thigh.

RCD!Miguel always has to celebrate a win by being burrowed deep in your pussy. (Usually in the backseat of his car.)

"I told you, Mami. Your pussy gives me everything I need to win." He purred as his hips snapped into you.

Your body jolted back, your nails penetrate his back.

"Miguel, s-slow down" you slurred out.

His hands were on your hips as he pushed himself deep within your walls. That euphoric and enrapturing feeling washed over your body. His thrust stayed hard and deep as he continued to fuck you through your high.

RCD!Miguel always makes sure to spoil you every time he wins a race. He'll buy you anything your heart desires.

RCD!Miguel makes sure to boast about his amazing girlfriend whenever he has a interview.

"I couldn't do any of this without my amazing girlfriend" he exclaimed.

RCD!Miguel doesn't know what TMI means. People will ask him what he does the hours before a race. Some expect him to say practice or relax but he says the most unexpected thing.

"My face is buried between my lovely girlfriend legs until I have to go to the track." He'll say with a grin.

His grin will only spread when he hears your voice echo his name. Your glare shooting daggers into him.

RCD!Miguel likes to scare you when he's on the track with you in the car. If it's a practice of him just getting to know a track. He'll intentionally speed up and do tricks. His laugh will echo through the car as you scream. He was going to own you big time.

RCD!Miguel will beg you to allow him to teach you how to drive on the track.

Allllll done 🙏🏾 isn't RCD!Miguel just so fineeeeeeee.

@kaisavampiree here 🫶🏾 I'll write an actual in-depth one when I have time.