#there are 6 apartments on each floor plus more on the first floor

[grinchwrapsupreme]

they are currently testing in-unit fire alarm systems in my building and I have to assume based on what i am experiencing that the way they are doing it is by going to each individual unit on all 22 floors and setting off the building-wide alarm for every single one

[pepperyduck]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your – gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡A Big Night In｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Dickie and Dove finally have a night to themselves

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff, mom!reader, embarrassment, sort of breeding kink?

WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

The Graysons

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Now, if she gets fussy, she really likes the koala with the missing ear. She literally can’t sleep without it.” Dick was panicking, that much was plain to see and Bruce couldn't help but smile. It was moments like this, where his boy was filled with anxiety about something so normal as leaving his 6 month old baby with her grandparents overnight, that made his heart ache in the best way.

“Chum, I know how to take care of Alice, I think the 20 page binder you gave each of us on her needs helps.” He glared at his father, arms tightening around his baby as she sat on his narrow hips, happily playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh leave him alone.” His mother scolded, giving her husband a light slap on his arm. “Don't pretend you weren't even more upset when you had to leave Dick alone for the first time. I seem to remember you calling me every ten minutes to get updates on how he was doing.” A light pink flush spread across Bruce's cheeks at the memory.

Grumbling, his eyes dropped to the floor like a petulant child. “It wasn't every ten minutes.” Dick shot his mother a grateful smile before turning his attention to Alice who didn't seem to share her father's level of anxiety.

It was a big day, her first sleepover without her parents. It would have happened sooner, in fact the first attempt had been when she was three months old. You and Dick needed some 'alone time' and your in-laws had been more than happy to extend their babysitting services. But an hour before they would come to pick her up, you and Dick had a breakdown and cancelled, instead spending the night curled up together in bed, Alice between you.

But, you couldn't put it off any longer. Alice needed to be socialised with other people and you needed to get laid.

So after a tearful goodbye, Dick drove her to Gotham, insisting on a little daddy-daughter bonding time before she was handed over to her grandparents.

“She likes thunderstorm sounds when she goes to sleep. And if she's still fussy, there's some frozen milk in the cooler bag.” Said bag was handed over to the awaiting hands of her grandfather, along with a Wonder Woman themed duffle-bag that held everything else she could possibly need.

“Ba.” Alice spat out, chubby arm pointing to her grandmother. Dick knew he had to get this over with, like pulling off a bandaid.

He pressed a long kiss to the patch of dark hair on the top of her head, inhaling that baby smell she hadn't yet grown out of. “You’ll be good for nana and pops won't you?” She cooed, eyes still locked on the older woman. He sighed, pecking her soft skin a couple more times before she slipped from his arms and placed safely in his mother's.

“Everything will be fine, I promise baby bird. You two have fun tonight.” Dick was quickly shooed out of the manor but not without a vague threat to Bruce to keep her safe, which he brushed off with his usual nonchalance.

By the time he had returned to his apartment in Blüdhaven, his mood had improved, especially with the text he received from you telling him to come straight to the bedroom when he got home.

“Dove?” He called into the darkened apartment, slipping off his shoes as he stumbled forward. A trail of clothes, haphazardly thrown on the hardwood guided him forward. There was a dim glow coming from the room just off of the kitchen, the smell of vanilla like a siren's call.

“Come on Dickie, we have a lot to make up for and not a lot of time to do it.” Your voice called out to him.

Dick groaned and palmed his already throbbing cock- it had been a long time, too long. “You're playing a dangerous game, Dove.” His voice thick with arousal as he called back to you.

His own clothes quickly joined yours, leaving him in just his boxers as he stepped into the bedroom where all the air was knocked from his lungs.

Your perfect, soft, naked body was completely on display for him as you lounged on the bed. 

Your skin glowed in the soft orange light of the room and for a moment, Dick thought that there was no way you were real and that you were his.

“Holy fuck.” He watched with wide eyes as your legs fell open, revealing paradise to him, your fingers already tracing over your clit. “Leave it!” He suddenly shouted, now furiously tugging at his boxers. “That's all mine baby!”

Your giggles quickly turned into moans as your husband's strong body forced you further into the mattress and his lips met yours in a truly desperate kiss. Your nails dug into his muscular back making his hips buck into yours.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it daddy?” You cooed into his mouth, your left hand travelling down his front deliberately slow.

He caught your hand before you could reach his cock and with a dangerous gleam in his eye, he responded. “How about baby number 2?”

The cold metal of his wedding ring against your heated thigh sent a shiver up your spine, making his smirk grow as your nipples pebbled beneath his gaze. His fingers inched towards your centre, quickly gathering the arousal that had smeared onto your skin.

“God, you get even sexier by the day.” You gasped as he finally touched where you needed him the most, both easing and adding more fuel to your lust. His own patience was quickly wearing thin so your husband wasted no time in sliding two thick fingers inside you.

“Dick!” You threw your head back with a moan of his name.

“That's it, that's my pretty dove.” With his other hand planted by your head, Dick watched his fingers pump in and out of you, his skin now shinny with your wetness. “You're so fucking wet dove, must be aching for me.”

Your only response was to tighten around his fingers, your orgasm dangerously close. “Please please.” You begged.

“Do you want to cum on my fingers or my cock?” Dick breathed into your ear but the way that he was pressed so tightly against you, you could feel his thick cock throbbing against your thigh, the decision was already made for you.

“Want you inside, wanna feel your cock again.” His body sagged against you as he groaned from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, you can't say stuff like that- gonna make me cum before we even get to the good part.”

“Then you better fuck me already Grayson.” But the bite of your words was softened by the moan he forced from you as he ripped his fingers from your aching cunt and replaced them with the fat head of his cock.

“If you insist.” The first thrust was always deliciously painful as he stretched you out, making you feel every inch of his perfect length until he was nestled against your cervix and his balls pressed tightly to your ass.

Your groans mingled together in a beautiful lewd symphony, filling the bedroom like music. “So fucking tight.” Dick moaned through clenched teeth. “Need to fuck you more.”

“Yes.” You hissed both in response to your husband and because at that moment, his hips twitched causing his cock to brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you.

“My poor girl, been neglecting my perfect wife. Gonna make it up to you, make you sit on my face till you beg me to stop.” His first thrusts were tentative, almost shy just like the first time you fell into bed with him but as you began to relax beneath him, he switched it up.

He knocked the moans from your lungs as he jackhammered into you, his own desperate need for release blinding him to everything else. “Never gonna let you feel empty again, I'll make sure you're always full of me one way or another.”

You sobbed with a particularly brutal thrust to your cervix and you dragged your nails down his back, leaving bright red marks. “Yes!” You cried.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking warm and tight, need to cum.”

“Inside, need it inside.” Your ankles locked around his hips. Your stomach began to pull tight just as Dick's thrusts began to waver.

“C'mon dove, cum for me- please.” And you shattered below him, melting into a puddle of ecstasy as your husband filled you with his cum, prolonging your orgasm.

Your left hand tangled in his dark hair and tugged his lips into yours. Your breath mingled as you both came down from your highs but Dick remained inside you, neither of you keen on having this end just yet.

“I love you.” You whispered to him and your husband smiled against your lips.

“I love you.” He replied with a gentle peck. “Soooooo, round 2?”

——————

“Dick's late.” Bruce's eyes once again flicked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room and then to the entryway but once again, there was no indication that his son had arrived.

Looking up from the floor where she had been playing with their granddaughter, his wife rolled her eyes. “Bruce, we've just given them their first uninterrupted date night in months, of course they're gonna be late. And hopefully they spent the night productively.” She said this last part almost to herself as she turned back to Alice who suddenly believed her right foot to be the most delicious thing ever.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his wife. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She sing-songed. “Oh look! They're here!”

And sure enough, Dick and a limping you walked through the door, not looking as well-rested as Bruce assumed you would be but both of you had big smiles on your faces.

“My girl!” Of course Dick immediately dove for his daughter, sending her into peels of laughter at seeing her father trip over his own feet in his hurry to get to her. You instead approached your father-in-law, greeting him with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you for watching her, I hope she didn't give you too much trouble.” Bruce waved you off.

“She was an angel, like always. I thought you and Dick were going to get some rest, you look like you haven't slept a wink.” Dick snorted but immediately stopped when both you and his mother shot him a look.

You cleared your throat and with a look of embarrassment, you avoided Bruce's eyes. “We lost track of time and didn't get to bed until late.” You were content to leave it there but apparently, your husband had other ideas.

“Alice, what do you think about having a baby brother?” You and your mother-in-law sighed heavily as Bruce went pale, the realisation finally dawning on him.

“Oh-oh god. I think I need a drink.” 

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[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 6

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting and talk of sex. We are starting to pine! Summary: Spending more time around Javi is as awkward as it is anything else, but spending some time with the girls has you approaching the situation a little differently after weeks of uncertainty. Notes: Introducing Elisa! Inner conflict, forced proximity, and a little soul searching are the name of the game.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5

Days tick by until it becomes weeks, and every apartment you look at is deemed either unsafe or unfit or otherwise unacceptable. The rent is too high or it doesn’t come furnished, or they don’t allow dogs. Señora Perrín had told you Chi-Chi couldn’t come to her son’s house because she generally hated men, and had said you should either keep her or bring her to a shelter.

It broke your heart that she could just give the precious guard dog up so easily and you’d been next to tears cuddling Chi-Chi on the living room floor when Javier came home from a stakeout. There was no discussion about it. Javier had just given the dog a half smile and said it was a damn good thing she liked him, because she was already settled.

On this particular morning you’re up before Javier which is incredible in and of itself. Sitting at the table with the local paper circling newspaper ads for apartments you haven’t already seen feels futile, but you have to keep trying.

Javi rolls his shoulders as he shuffles into the kitchen. He had been needing to start the coffee pot, but you’re already there, the pot full except for the cup at your elbow. “Morning.” He grunts, walking by the table and snatching up your already lit cigarette for a quick drag. You smoke the same ones he does and he’s never been shy about sharing a cigarette. “Fuck.” He groans, feeling the nicotine flooding his system. “Ran out last night.” He explains. You’re looking in the paper again and he almost asks why when it’s obvious you are settled here, but he doesn’t. You might want your own space and he doesn’t feel like it’s his place to press. You might share marks and have managed to be somewhat friendly to each other, but it hasn’t gone beyond that.

“Morning.” The ritual is usually the opposite, but he seems to adjust alright today. And today, like every other, you drag your eyes away from the sliver of tanned skin that shows at his waistline when he reaches up for a mug or to scratch the back of his neck like he does when he’s tired. “You wanna take the rest of my pack to work? I can pick more up from that corner store that stocks American while I’m apartment hunting.”

“I’ll stop on the way.” He shakes his head, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking that first blessed sip, “Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans again in appreciation. “I don’t know how, but your coffee is always so good.”

“I refuse to give up my secret.” The pinch of cinnamon you add to the coffee grounds whenever you make a pot has turned out to be his unexpected favorite. It warms you deep in your chest with something you can’t name, but you always smile at the compliment. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want breakfast.” He rarely sticks around long enough in the mornings to eat anything freshly cooked, but at least he’s eating something.

“I don’t have time.” He admits. “Fucking overslept as it is.” He’s been pulling a lot of late nights, but he’s still been insisting on going in on time. Pablo getting fucking elected to office has lit a fire under his ass to prove the bastard is dirty.

It would be domestic — mothering, even — to suggest he take something with him so you swallow it off of the tip of your tongue. “Take my cigarettes, then,” you insist, putting the pack in his hand. Instead you offer something far less invasive. “Don’t waste the time stopping. I got my column in yesterday so I’m free as a bird to get more today.”

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grateful smile and nods as he takes another sip of the coffee before he checks his watch. “Shit.” He gulps down another mouthful and dumps the cup in the sink. “I’ll take care of that when I get home.” He’s noticed you’ve cleaned up when he’s too busy and he doesn’t want you to think you need to do that. “I’ve gotta go.”

“See you later.” Maybe tonight. Maybe not. Sometimes he runs into the apartment for something and then goes out again and you don’t see him until the next day. He doesn’t ever stop working, night and day.

He grabs his keys. “See you.” He manages before the phone in his pocket starts ringing. “Shit. Peña. Yeah, yeah I’m on my way.” He grunts as he closes the door and jogs down the hall towards the front of the building.

"Well girl..." Your eyes slide to the dog as she watches Javier leave, whining mournfully in her well-claimed spot on the living room rug. "Looks like it's just you and me again today. You wanna stretch out on my lap while I call landlords?"

******

The morning goes surprisingly well and there’s even time to meet Connie and one of her work friends for lunch at Steve’s insistence. “We could be working.” Javi grumbles as he lights up the last cigarette from the pack you had given him.

“It wouldn’t kill you to socialize once in a while,” Steve reminds him, nudging him toward whatever little place Connie and her friend had deemed appropriate for lunch.

“I socialize.” Javi snorts, even though he’s not once been to see the girls since you’ve unexpectedly moved in. It’s been limited to his hand in the shower every fucking night.

“When?” Steve grins, infinitely amused. “When you’re grumbling at paperwork in the office? When you’re sleeping? Are you even going to that brothel anymore? You don’t even leave the office at lunch like you used to.” He used to go to see the working girls on lunch break or after work. He knows it — they pretty much all unofficially know it. But not lately. He just doesn’t know what’s changed.

“Why are you so goddamn interested in where I stick my dick?” Javi cuts his eyes over at his partner before he yanks the door open and walks into the little restaurant. It’s annoying that Steve has clocked his habits and even more annoying that he’s noticed the change. He hasn’t told Steve about you. Neither you being his soulmate or living with him temporarily.

“Because you’re fuckin cranky when you don’t get any,” Steve mutters at his back, letting Peña bust past him into the place while he trails behind and snickers.

He rolls his eyes and pulls a chair out at a table. “You’re entirely too fucking cheerful.” He grumbles, wishing he had just told Steve he was working through lunch. He’s exhausted and honestly needs a day off.

“Just needed a little sunshine in my day,” the other man announces, beaming when he sees his own soulmate and wife walk through the door.

“Sunshine.” He huffs, crushing out a cigarette but immediately perking up when a very attractive brunette comes in behind Connie. Obviously an extra and Javi decides that a little flirting is exactly what he needs.

"Hey!" Connie Murphy comes breezing in with a smile on her face and a kiss for her husband. "Sorry I'm late, honey."

"Hey." Steve accepts the gesture of affection readily, taking both of her cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips to hers with a happy hum.

"Javier." When Connie stands up again at the table, she gestures to the brunette who came in in back of her. "This is my friend Elisa." To her friend, she explains: "Javier works with Steve."

Javi gets out of his chair and shakes her hand, enjoying how soft and warm it is. She's got a nice set of tits, and he's not feeling guilty about looking after he had that conversation with you. "Nice to meet you." He greets her and pulls out her chair for her as they both sit down.

"Are you another...janitor at the embassy? Like Steve?" Elisa asks, smirking slightly because that seems to be such a lame excuse.

"No, actually I'm CIA." Javi lies with a straight face. He glances at Steve. "But that's classified, so don't tell anybody."

The Murphys exchange expressions of raised eyebrows with each other and then with Javi, as if to tell him to cool it with the sarcasm. Somebody can and will overhear him and take him seriously.

Javi continues on. “I’m here to hunt communists and prevent the Marxist invasion from Cuba.” He’s lit another cigarette and holds it in his hand. “The janitor thing, that was you?” He asks Steve, who hums unhappily as Javi continues to talk. “No, that’s just a cover.” He tells her, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Elisa laughs, slightly unsure but willing to bet he's nearly telling the truth and that he's doing it in spite of the Murphys. She likes Connie, but the American woman is a little too earnest for her own good. "Thank you for being so honest," she says to Javier instead, and picks up on the overt honesty played like a lie tempo at the table. "Just so you know," she adds playfully. "I'm a communist guerrilla."

Javi laughs, along with Connie, and Steve gives a halfhearted smile. “Perfect.” Javi tells her with a wink.

"Yeah," Steve huffs, looking between the other two at the table before bringing his eyes back to his wife and nearly shrugging. It's obvious Elisa and Javi are on some kind of wavelength that he and Connie are not. "Perfect." He says the word but huffs it doubtfully.

Javi smirks at his partner, picking up on his mood but he doesn’t pay it any attention. “Tell me, how did you just start working at the clinic?” Javier asks Elise, as he looks over the menu. Catching sight of a meal that he thinks you would like since you like those falafel things and hating that he’s thinking about you right now.

"Everyone needs a job, don't they?" Elisa poses, acting like the answer doesn't quite matter when it truly doesn't. Not really anyway. Her work as a nurse is not the work she will be known for.

“That’s right.” Javi blows a ring of smoke up into the air and grins a Connie. He likes Murphy’s wife and it’s obvious that she’s the one that is the more outgoing of the two of them.

“So,” Connie poses, trying to brighten the mood at the table. “Lunch?”

“That sounds good.” Javi glances at the menu again and smirks at his partner. “Need some help?” He asks, knowing Steve’s reading comprehension of Spanish is worse than his speaking abilities.

“Shut up, Peña.” Steve mutters, grateful when Connie leans in to help him instead. His grasp of Spanish is growing, but at a snail’s pace.

Javi snickers quietly, feeling a little better after giving him some shit back after having to listen to Steve bring up soulmates every chance he gets. Thank god he hadn’t told him who his soulmate is, or that you are staying with him right now.

Connie ends up ordering for Steve despite his semi-valiant attempts at pronouncing the menu items, and the amusement at the table lifts the mood considerably. It’s not often any of them get to laugh anymore, and even a moment of it seems to relax everyone considerably.

“It’s good that you can meet us for lunch.” Javi tells them as they finish their sodas and wait for refills.

"I've got to see my soulmate sometimes," Connie teases lightly, leaning into Steve's side. "Dinners aren't a sure thing, so lunch seemed like the best time."

“And that means I get to eat.” Steve huffs, cutting his eyes back at Javi. His partner has a habit of living off coffee and cigarettes.

"Do you not eat?" Elisa asks Javier, curious that he seems to be getting the ire of his friends.

“Too busy working.” Javi shrugs one shoulder. “We grab something if there’s time.”

"Food is one of life's few pleasures." she returns, although she can think of quite a few other pleasures this man might be fun to indulge in with. "Pleasures are few and far between."

Javi takes another drag off his cigarette and grins at Elisa. “You’re right.” He admits.

"So why deny yourself?" She asks, nodding toward the direction their server is approaching from.

“Why indeed?” Javi thinks about you for a moment, before he pushes that out of his mind. You don’t want to do anything about your status so he shouldn’t worry about it.

"Yeah." Steve looks between the two of them with absolute incredulousness. "Why?" He really feels like he should be a reason but Javi won't say a goddamn word about his soulmate so he can't say too much.

Javi rolls his eyes and leans back as the server sets the meal down in front of you. “Hurry up.” He tells his partner. “We have to go meet Carillo after this.”

"Right." Steve snorts, ready to dig into his lunch right away. "No rest for the wicked."

“Never is.” Javi snorts and wishes he had a beer, or a glass of whiskey. When he left the apartment, you had still been asleep. He wonders what you are up to.

"Are you particularly wicked?" Elisa asks, partially for herself and partially because it amuses her to scandalize Connie with that type of question.

“Some might think so.” He admits, thinking about the question from an outsider’s point of view. “I’m flawed, but at the base of my life, I want to do good.”

That seems to surprise the other Americans at the table, but the Murphys choose not to tease – instead settling into their meal and deciding that a small amount of talk amongst themselves is more polite. Javier and Elisa seem to have slipped into a private conversation at the drop of a hat.

"Is that what you're doing?" She asks, picking up her fork and tilting her head toward the man beside her. Elisa didn't come here to flirt, but the man she has been introduced to is interesting and it won't be the worst thing in the world to chat him up for a half hour or more. "Doing good?"

“Some days it doesn’t seem that way.” Javi admits, eating his own food without really paying attention to it. “Not like health care.” More of what he does is unhealth care.

"Health care is...different than people expect it to be." Elisa tells him honestly. Not to mention that that is not the focus of her life. It was once, but not now. "Sometimes you wonder if you have done any good at all."

“I feel the same way.” He agrees, wondering if it’s that way everywhere, with any job. Maybe his pop was right and growing things was the answer all along.

"Maybe that's part of being human?" She wonders aloud, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

“Who knew you could get philosophical over lunch?” Javi snorts, although he had actually excelled in philosophy in college.

She smiles, admittedly charmed, and she will have to confess later that Connie was right to warn her about her husband's partner. "I would have looked forward to this lunch even more if I had known."

He smirks slightly and glances over at the server as they refill his drink. Nodding his thanks before he looks back at her. “Well, now you can look forward to the next one.”

“I definitely will.” Elisa agrees, and the smile on her lips promises that she hopes to be looking forward to much more than that.

******

When a familiar car pulls up down the block, Freckles is the one that recognizes it. “Holy shit.” She huffs, turning towards the room where Helena and Vanessa are lounging. Helena hasn’t been taking clients, but she had been here to pack. Gathering all the things that she wanted and giving away the things she didn’t. “She’s here.”

“Who?” Helena asks, her attention to focused on carefully braiding Vanessa’s wet hair to achieve some natural waves after it dries. A new style she wanted to try.

She says your name, lifting a brow as she looks at the other two women. “I wonder if she’s just here for a follow up interview for an article.”

“Can’t be for us…” Helena’s head pops up immediately. She knows that you are their friend, but it would be a simple enough thing to see them outside of a professional setting if you just wanted to spend time with friends. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa frowns slightly. “She wasn’t happy with us knowing about her and Javier. She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t.”

“You think she came because she’s mad at us?” Freckles asks, frowning at the thought.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she will yell at us, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The other woman shrugs. “Maybe she’s tired of Javi.” She snorts. “She does like eating pussy.”

“You think they’re fucking already?” Helena asks, frowning doubtfully. “They seemed…at odds with each other.”

“I didn’t mean they were fucking.” She corrects. “Just tired of him. Isn’t she staying with him since her apartment was raided?”

“Yeah.” Helena nods, shifting up from the couch to peak through the window. You’re just out of sight so you must be on your way in. “With the sweetest dog.”

“Javier has a dog in his apartment?” Freckles finds that hilarious and throws her head back laughing. “How domestic.”

“You know the guard dog?” Helena and Vanessa laugh along with her. They have, at various points now, all been to your apartment. “The sweet girl who sits at the top of the stairs? She is with them now.”

“But doesn’t she hate men?” Her eyes widen for a moment before she giggles again. “I can’t see Javi sneaking around his own apartment.”

“I can’t imagine he’s hiding from both of them.” Freckles shrugs. “Maybe that’s why she’s here. Like you said.”

"We will see." Helena knows that even if you are upset, you wouldn't take it out on them. You weren't that way, more of a defender than an abuser.

The knock on the door comes a moment later, but the door doesn’t open immediately. Unlike other clients, you have always been respectful of their privacy.

Freckles wanders over to the door and opens it, smiling brightly when she sees you and pulls you in for a hug. "It is good to see you!"

You came here with a purpose. You did. But seeing the three of them together — stunning women who know you far too well — seems to spook you out of your resolve. “H—hi,” you murmur instead, kissing her cheek and giving her a gentle squeeze back. Not too tight. Not too close.

"Come in." She offers immediately, stepping back and opening the door wider. "Unless you are here to just see one of us?" She asks curiously, wondering if it is simply the business of pleasure that brings you here.

“I wasn't sure who would be here.” It feels like more of a confession than you meant it to, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Okay.” Freckles glances over at the other two. “We can leave if you want to talk to Helena?” She offers.

"No–no, I..." You deflate a little, realizing that you're far less sure of this plan than you thought you were while driving here. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have come."

Vanessa frowns and shakes her head even though Helena is still working on it. “Don’t be silly.” She chides. “You are always welcomed here.”

"I don't want to intrude." Also, you somehow forgot about the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, which has your own reflection staring back at you in ways you would rather avoid.

“Why would you be intruding?” For a moment, Freckles wants to ask if you were checking to see if Javier is here, or has been here, but she doesn’t. You do seem upset, but not at them.

"I don't know." And that is all the more confusing, which brings you from flustered and embarrassed to emotional all at once. A single chin wobble feels like six with the hyperaware state you're in right now and you look around at three pairs of beautiful eyes that only make you feel all the more ridiculous. "I'm sorry, I...I'm not feeling well, I guess." You turn to go, ready to haul ass and hide yourself in Chi-Chi's fur and try to blot out the world, but Helena has gotten up to block the way in a flash.

“Stay.” She urges you, reaching out and taking your shoulders in her hands to physically turn you back towards the room. “Please.”

"I haven't...been myself lately," you admit, looking around at the three of them again.

“Because of what we told you?” Helena frowns, feeling guilty as she guides you over to the bed.

"Not...directly?" She has you sit down, and the other two girls come to sit on the bed with you, gathered around you as if you were all simply here to gossip instead of you having found yourself in the middle of an existential crisis. "It's a long story."

“If you don’t want to talk…” Vanessa senses that you are pent up and she puts her hand on your thigh. “We can always find other ways to entertain ourselves until you do want to talk.”

“I’m not going to make you do that anymore.” The realization, swift and certain, makes you swallow the lump you hadn’t sensed forming in your throat. Coming here may have been a very bad idea, actually… “I—I mean…I thought that’s what I wanted. And why I came. But I don’t think so anymore.”

Helena reaches out and touches your cheek gently. “Javier?” She asks softly, aware that you might be feeling guilty. “He hasn’t come to see us either. If that’s what you want to know.”

"It doesn't have anything to do with Javier." As soon as it's out of your mouth – defensive and swift – you flinch and shake your head. "It doesn't have to do with him being...what he is to me, I mean."

“Oh.” The girls exchange looks but don’t say anything. There’s obviously something wrong, but they won’t push you if you don’t want to talk. They just wait.

It all comes pouring out in the face of their solid sympathy. The fights you and Javier had in the beginning, everything Alex said. The way every passing week that you live with Javier has you convinced that the universe must have been wrong. That you have stopped being able to even glance past a mirror on any sort of daily basis for fear of what you will find staring back at you. "I thought I was just lonely," you admit, under the gaze of three sets of worried eyes. "I thought I just needed to find some company to feel better again. But I walked through your door and just felt like I would be demeaning any of you by asking you to take me to bed."

Helena frowns and Vanessa and Freckles shake their heads in disagreement. “Do you think that we just fuck you because you pay us?” Freckles asks, folding her arms over her chest. “Because we don’t. We enjoy our time with you. In and out of bed.”

"I'm not thinking straight right now." The wording is unfortunate, but at least it's honest. "I don't really trust my own perspective. So while I know, deeply, because you're my friends, that you've never lied to me about enjoying yourself. I just can't..." Searching for the words has you huffing and shaking your head all over again. "I can't believe it or understand it."

“Because of what that bitch said about you?” Vanessa looks mad enough to spit nails. The fight that had been instigated to defend your honor hadn’t made you feel better and the words that you had learned were said about you had cut deep.

"This is...let's call it a lifelong problem." Sitting back against the pillows on the bed, you just drop your face into your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry to have dumped all of this on the three of you. Really."

“After what you have done for us?” Helena rolls her eyes and grabs a pack of cigarettes to offer you one. “You’re crazy.”

"Probably." You admit, letting out a half-laugh and accepting a cigarette.

“He was wrong.” Freckles tells you. “There is nothing wrong with you.” She promises. “You are soft and gorgeous. Warm and sensuous.”

"It's hard to see any kind of truth through my own doubt." Inhaling fire and exhaling smoke is such a seemingly small ritual, but it centers you in a way that you need right now. Like maybe if you had had just sat down and had a cigarette or two or three, you might not have had to bare your soul to these three kind women. To your friends – you have to remember that point. These are your friends. "I don't know if there is any truth. Looks and attraction and all of that...it's all subjective anyway."

“It is subjective.” That all the women can agree on. “My first love, he was ugly by any standards.” Freckles snorts. “But I fucked his brains out every chance I got.”

“You loved him,” you point out, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “That makes all the difference.”

“And you don’t love Javier.” She murmurs, bewildered by the idea that you might not even be attracted to your soulmate. She reaches over and takes your hand. “Not all soulmates are sexual.” She reminds you. “Javi would never force you.”

“I barely know Javier.” It feels like an entirely lame defense, but it’s true. And besides which you’re not even sure why you feel the need to defend yourself at all. But you do.

“I thought you were staying at his apartment?” Vanessa looks surprised by the fact you haven’t gotten close to him.

“I am.” It’s been nearly impossible to find a place that will let you keep Chi-Chi that you can afford and is reasonably safe, and you have just ended up there indefinitely. “But it isn’t as though we sit around the kitchen cooking meals together and having some sort of domestic fantasy.”

“So you avoid each other?” Helena frowns, not liking that at all. Javier needs a connection with someone, he is dangerously close to burnout and making mistakes and the physicality has been removed, so the emotional was definitely needed. Unless he had found comfort somewhere else.

“Not actively. I mean I sit in the living room reading at night and sometimes he’s home. We both just work constantly.” Shrugging just feels even more pathetic now but you’re not sure what else to do. “We just…don’t talk a lot when the two of us are there.”

"You are both so alike it's almost scary." Vanessa sighs softly and shakes her head.

“Stubborn and frustrating?” You guess, huffing out a half-laugh.

"YES!" All three women laugh when they answer at the same time.

The suddenness of it startles a chuckle out of you, until all four of you are laughing in a heap on the bed together. “This is what I needed,” you sigh, breathing through another laugh as Freckles hugs you to her side. “To see my friends.”

“Why don’t you fuck Javi?” She suggests playfully. “He will have you feeling good.”

“I walked in here so insecure I couldn’t even kiss any of you.” You remind them gently. “I don’t know that I’m in a place to be fucking anyone.”

"What has made you so insecure?" Helena demands, hating that you would feel that way. "Explain it to me."

You all but huff at her, feeling your shoulders round all over again. “Is being called a whale not enough?”

She frowns, reaching out and lifting your chin. "You – the woman who fought to come to Colombia, who was angry that your bosses would not let you go undercover in a brothel – let a tiny dicked man who never made you cum think badly about yourself?" She asks furiously, although her tone is softly censuring. "When your soulmate was so enraged on your behalf that he started a fight for your honor?"

The other girls murmur their agreement, but you feel all the more sheepish at having it put like that. “You make it sound very romantic.”

“It kind of is romantic.” She grins. “Especially knowing that Javier looks very sexy when he’s angry.”

"If you like him when he's angry, you'd probably be amused as hell at how we fight." It's been a week or so since the last time you argued, but the fights are fewer and farther between now, as well as shorter. Last time it had been as stupid and domestic as you getting annoyed about the schedule you worked out for feeding the dog.

“What could you possibly fight about when you barely talk?” Vanessa asks.

"Stupid things."

"You fight because you don't talk." Helena points out. And knowing you both as well as she does, she has it right on the money.

“Why don’t you do something together?” Freckles suggests. “Watch a movie?”

It's such a small, simple thing. A movie. Not a date, not a spectacle. Just a stupid, normal little movie on tv while you sit on the couch. It's...oddly appealing, actually. But you're still unsure. "Does he ever sit still long enough for something like that?"

“I’m sure you could convince him to.” Helena smirks, although she’s convinced Javier is only still when he’s asleep, or on a stakeout.

"You're all so very certain that I could get him to do anything I wanted." It's frustrating in a completely different way. Because you simply can't see how or why they believe it.

“Javi wants a connection with someone.” Vanessa hums. “Even if he won’t admit it. Even if he fights it.”

"Something else I guess we have in common, then." They know you too well for you to pretend otherwise. They know your tendency to run. To hide. To push away emotional connections. Even Alex had been kept at arm's length, but had managed to crack away at that deep desire for affection enough to hurt you with it. The bastard.

“We told you that you are the exact same.” Freckles rolls her eyes and leans in to press her lips to yours playfully with a smack.

"Apparently so." The gesture is received with gratitude, even if your heart feels a little heavier as you start to really believe what your friends have been telling you. "I'm not sure there is anything to do about it, though."

“Why?” Helena asks, wondering what could be so monumental to keep soulmates from being together.

"We sort of talked about it. The first night I stayed with him. When my building was raided." And the number of times you have gone back over it in your head since then is positively shameful. "He pretty much said he's not interested in being together. So it's all...moot. I guess."

“This was after your argument over me?” Helena asks, tsking when you nod. “The first strike.” She whispers to the other girls and they groan and nod in agreement.

"What do you mean 'strike'?" You ask, frowning.

“He rejected you before you could reject him.” She sighs. “Stupid bastard.”

"Alright, well..." Somehow that hurts far worse than you could have predicted, and you lean back in the pillows with a frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's still a rejection."

Vanessa huffs and throws up her hands. “Both of you, stubborn!” She hisses. “You would have done the same and you know it. You are two sides to the same mirror.”

"So what am I supposed to do about it, then?" You hiss back, feeling stung and stuck and just a tad insulted to boot. "Beg him to reconsider? Seduce him? Plead with my soulmate to give me another chance? Fuck that."

“One of you will have to bend.” Helena sighs. “It will just be a matter of who.”

"Now you see why I'm so frustrated." So frustrated that you could not see the light for all the dark around you. But your friends have helped that more than you expected.

“I am surprised Javi let you live with him.” Freckles admits. “He has never lived with anyone.”

"He feels guilty." At least that's what you assumed. It probably doesn't do any good to assume, but that is what you've done. "Because it was his team that raided my building."

“And he could have found you a place to live inside of an hour.” Vanessa snorts.

"I've been looking for weeks," you remind her, sheepish and embarrassed that it has taken you so long.

“Javier has been here for years.” She reminds you. “How do you think he got such an amazing apartment?”

"I can't figure out if you're implying that he's letting me look fruitlessly or that he's actively sabotaging my attempts to find somewhere else to live." Either one is deeply confusing and has complicated connotations, and you're not entirely sure what to do about it.

“That’s something you will have to ask him about.” All three women shrug and give you unsure looks.

“Full, meaningful conversation, huh?” You sigh, knowing they’re right. “That’s probably the respectful thing to do.”

“You do what you need to do.” Freckles tells you. “Only you and Javier can determine what happens. Not anyone else.”

“I’d much rather have it just all work itself out for us,” you admit, though the complaint is half-hearted. Having something handed to you means it’s never quite as satisfactory or as lasting.

Helena snorts and leans against you playfully. “You can do that.” She admits. “It will be an interesting journey.”

******

You’re still trying to figure out what the hell kind of journey could possibly be ahead of you when Javier comes home that night. It’s earlier than usual but still not what any normal person would call early. Thankfully you’re both night owls, so you’re in the process of making some dinner when the door opens. Having managed to track down an Italian market in an immigrant community in Bogotá during your first weeks there, you continue to make the pilgrimage whenever you need to stock up on ingredients.

Tonight you wanted comfort food — chunks of beef slowly stewed with onions, garlic, mushrooms, and carrots in tomatoes and red wine. The whole thing will be ladled over creamy, cheesy polenta and you can’t wait. These recipes your father taught you still mean everything to you as a grown woman.

He smells the food from the hallway. Different than the normal scents of cooking from other apartments and yet it is just as mouthwatering. He comes into the door and groans quietly. “I’m back.” He calls out politely.

“You’re home early.” It’s just an observation, but it feels so incredibly domestic in your current setting. “I got a little nostalgic and made a ton of food. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.” Javi admits. “We had this little place in Laredo that did the little tea candles on the table. Best damn lasagna I’ve ever had.”

“Lasagna is one of my ultimate comfort meals.” And it sticks somewhere in your head that you’ll have to make it for him sometime. Cooking is soothing for you, after all. And an excellent way to say thank you for letting me live in your apartment and refusing to take my rent money every time I offer. “This is my dad’s version of Italian beef stew with polenta.”

He makes an impressed face and nods. “Sounds good. Do I have time for a shower?” He asks, feeling sticky and wanting to wash away the filth of the day.

"Yeah, absolutely." It's suddenly become a whole to-do, this comfort dinner of yours, but you nod. Somehow it's so much easier to see how handsome he is tonight. Like talking with the girls today had softened some of the sharp edges you had imagined before. "We could...turn on a movie while we eat? If you want to?"

He looks over at you in surprise, but your back is to him, stirring the pot at the stove furiously. Either the stew is temperamental or you are avoiding looking at him. “That sounds good.” He admits. “Cabinet under the tv has some tapes.” He tells you. “A few movies my pop sent me.”

"Okay." Stirring the polenta is just a way to distract yourself so he doesn't catch you staring at him, but that's alright. It needs to be stirred anyway. "I'll pick something out and set it up."

“Okay, uh, I’ll just jump in the shower then.” He mumbles, feeling slightly out of sorts now that you’ve agreed to this. It feels intimate, domestic, like an evening at home between soulmates would be.

"Okay." Repeating the word feels awkward, but you try to dismiss the feeling as nerves or tension. Everything is totally fine. It's just a meal. You've eaten together plenty of times before.

Heading back to his room, his movements are completely in autopilot. Unclipping his badge and gun from his hip, setting them down in his dresser and emptying his pockets. Memories of his parents sitting on the old flowered sofa in their living room watching a movie or tv show when he was younger springs to mind. Peeking around the corner from the kitchen and listening to his mother giggle quietly and seeing them kiss before he scurried back to his room.

By the time he comes back out again, you have dinner set up in bowls, two glasses of wine poured from what was left in the bottle, and his well-loved copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark in the VCR. "Bad day?" You ask, trying to be as casual and normal as possible when you catch the moody expression on his face. You probably haven't hit it at all, but you're trying.

“Every day I don’t catch that bastard is a bad day.” Javi snorts and shakes his head. “It’s frustrating. Feeling like we are just spinning our wheels again.”

"I refuse to believe you got nothing done today." He's too clever and too dedicated for that, but you won't belabor the point. "Anyway, it's late and there's not much you can do for the rest of tonight. But dinner is hot and there's booze."

That sounds fucking amazing and Javi groans in appreciation. “You didn’t have to do all this.” He reminds you, gesturing to the meal set out on the coffee table.

"I thought it would be nice." Technically speaking, you didn't make this meal for him. It is a comfort for you with the added side benefit of there being plenty to share with him. But there is something in his voice that stops you from saying so.

Javi sits down and then second guesses himself. “Do you want to sit here?” He asks, getting back up.

"Sit wherever you want." He's nervous and you're trying not to let it put you on edge too. This was just a spur of the moment idea that seemed like a nice way to spend the night. "It is your couch."

He snorts and shrugs. “I don’t care where I sit, but you might have claimed a certain corner as your own.” He jokes.

"Normally that's just whatever corner Chi-Chi has left for me when she sprawls out over the entire couch." You joke. He had let her up on his furniture on day two of having the two of you in his place and she never looked back.

“I feel like she would take up all the space if you gave her half a chance. Even a king-sized bed.” He rolls his eyes and looks over at the dog that is currently sprawled over the floor.

"Oh, believe me." With your bowls and wine sitting on the coffee table, you come closer and sit down in the corner of the couch that he isn't occupying. "Half the time when I crawl into bed at night, she's sprawled out over the entire mattress. So I have no trouble imagining she would take up a king if she can dominate my full size."

Javi frowns. “Then we should get you a bigger bed.” He hadn’t really thought much about the size of the bed in the guest room. It was just there for someone to sleep if needed and until Helena and you, it had never been used.

"You don't..." You had been reaching for your wine glass when he said it and you almost knock it over by accident. "You don't have to do that. I mean...it's your apartment. I'm just staying here through the seemingly interminable search for an apartment. I really can't figure out why it's so damn hard to find a place this time around."

Javi hums and doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he reaches for his own wine glass. “You’ll find one eventually.” He finally says.

"Eventually." The girls' words float through your mind again, and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you pick up your glass more securely. "You know...you've been here longer than me. I'm surprised you don't know anyone looking for a tenant."

His eyes slide he to you and then back to the tv where the beginning of the movie is finally starting after the commercials. “I’ve been keeping an ear out for something that would be good for you.” He tells you vaguely.

"Yeah?" Deciding to play the cards you have, you take a sip of your wine and then set the glass down to pick up your bowl. Dinner smells amazing and it's finally going to be cool enough to eat without burning yourself. "The girls seem to think you wouldn't have had any trouble. And that you might not mind having me around."

Javi nearly drops his spoon, hissing a curse and bobbles it for a second before catching it. “Yeah?” He turns to purse his lips at you grumpily. “The girls don’t know everything, do they?”

"Hey," you shrug, playing it off like you aren't fishing for information but giving something up instead. "I thought it was kind of nice that they thought that. Like we might actually be getting used to each other."

He relaxed slightly and turns back to towards the tv and his stew. “You don’t annoy me as much as you first did.” He snorts. “And you cook.”

"So it's purely functional." It's just light teasing, because you're not really questioning him or calling him out. It's just...nice to hear the good humor in his voice. "Maybe...you would let me pay rent in groceries and cooking? Instead of cash?"

“You don’t have to pay rent.” He huffs out, rolling his eyes as you bring up the idea yet again. “I would have to rent this place even if you didn’t sleep in that room.” He points out again. “And the electricity and water are included. It costs me nothing.”

Your hand, spoon and all, stop halfway to your mouth. "You...don't pay rent? Like at all?"

That wasn’t what he said, but he shrugs. “Technically? No.” He admits. “DEA pays for it. And it’s under the set amount they give us. So I make money every month.”

"Well shit..." The fact that you misunderstood him at first doesn't change the meaning of the thing. His housing stipend more than covers the cost of the space you have both been living in. You almost sputter around the fact, but end up biting your lip and shrugging exaggeratedly. "Fine. I'll just cook because I like to and because we both need to eat." Looking over at him though, your head tilts unconsciously. "But...maybe it would be okay if I stop looking for a different place?"

Even though he’s honestly relieved that you are voicing that, Javi jolts one shoulder up in the air casually, as if it doesn’t matter to him. “Up to you.” He grunts as he spoons up a first bite of the stew and polenta. “If you’re comfortable here.”

“Chi-Chi is.” You nod toward the enormous sprawl of an animal nearby. She’s found a corner of rug and isn’t giving it up for anything. “I guess that settles it.” As if the dog’s comfort and happiness were the only factor, you simply start eating, turning your attention to the screen with a smile curling your lips.

It’s probably the first thing that you’ve not argued with him about and he grunts, wondering if it’s because you feel safer here, or if the fact that he had spread word that the American woman looking for an apartment was important to the DEA had scared people off. He doesn’t regret it at all. Eventually someone would know about your connection to him, and he didn’t want that used and you to be harmed.

It’s several minutes later when you laugh to yourself during the movie that you realize how simultaneously comfortable and tense you are here these days. And that the tension isn’t the walking on eggshells kind of tension you’ve had with other people in the past. But something almost eager. Like it’s on the verge of actually being pleasurable. But that might just be the soulmate bond talking. Either way, you go on eating and smiling to yourself, wondering if he feels it too or if you’re just too convinced by what the girls had to say today.

Hearing you snort in amusement; Javi looks over at you to find you grinning. “Have a think for this guy?” He asks with a smirk, nodding towards the tv. Most of the office girls in the typing pool swoon over Harrison Ford.

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, unashamed to admit to it. “Just like every other woman my age, right? Every guy I know is in love with Michelle Pfeiffer. It’s the same deal.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “She’s alright.” He answers. “I don’t really fantasize about women who wouldn’t even know my name.” He admits. “I like the ones I’ve got a chance with.”

“Fantasizing is an integral part of my day to day,” you tell him, glancing away from the screen to see if he’s looking at you. You can’t tell if you’re hoping for it or not, but you’re curious.

He watches you turn your head and look into his eyes. His curiosity getting the best of him. “And what do you fantasize about?” His voice is suddenly raspier, dropping into a lower, more intimate pitch.

“I—” You hadn’t meant it like that. In fact you’d barely thought about what you were saying when you said it. But now that he’s asked? The coil in your guts tightens and you swallow thickly. “Lots of things.” The truth sparks from you like wildfire. “W—waking up wrapped in someone…those little touches that are electric with someone new…the whole, uh…the whole…work surprise thing…”

“Work surprise?” He frowns slightly. “Like fucking in the broom closet?” He asks, trying to understand you a bit better even if this is more than he ever thought he would know. You aren’t interested in him, but he’s curious.

“Not what I was thinking.” You laugh, though, trying not to pay attention to the way your skin tingles in response to the idea of him dragging you into a closet for anything remotely sexual. “I was thinking more like…the romance of a surprise. My mom used to make excuses to go surprise my dad at work every single week. Just because she knew how hard he worked, and she wanted there to always be something to look forward to on the hardest days.”

“Your mom would go to your dad’s work to fuck him?” He remembers that your dad was a chef and he chuckles. “I heard some kinky shit happens in a kitchen.”

“I mean…” The realization is striking, that that probably is exactly what was happening, and you sputter for a few seconds out of sheer surprise. “She always told us she was just going to spend his breaks with him, but…probably.”

He laughs quietly, watching the realization rush over your face. “It’s always weird to think about your parents fucking.” He reaches over and pats your thigh. “It’s okay.”

“She just always made it sound very romantic,” you admit, dissolving into laughter.

“Fucking can be romantic.” He chuckles. “And romance can be a passionate quickie.” He snorts, “My parents probably used the hay loft more than I did.”

“See, stripping down in a hayloft to roll around on a blanket does sound romantic.” Or maybe you just have a little bit of a cowboy kink. Who knows? “A restaurant stock room? Not so much.”

He smirks as he shrugs. “Depends on what gets you going.” He argues playfully. “Maybe mayonnaise did it for them.”

“Gross.” But you’re still laughing, the movie forgotten in the background and your dinner sitting in your lap. “I can readily say mayonnaise does not get me going.”

He chuckles as he spoons up another bite of the meal. He almost tells you that he will note that, but you might not want him to do that. “Oh I love this part.” He snorts as he catches sight of the movie again.

Indy’s exploits suddenly seem less interesting to you, but you watch the movie and continue to eat with an undeniable warmth building in your chest.

The problem is that Javi wants to keep talking to you, but he also doesn’t want you to think that all he wants to talk to you about is sex. It’s frankly surprising to a man who enjoys sex and women as much as he does, but sex with you seems to be about as obtainable as climbing Mt. Everest.

“I always wanted to be Marion Ravenwood when I was a teenager…” It comes out as just a little murmur, but it’s true. Marion had been one of your favorite role models. “Her or Lois Lane.”

“She was always way too good for Indy.” Javi points at the screen with his spoon as he reaches for his wine with the other hand. “But I’m sure Lois speaks to you more because of that journalism connection.”

“She’s the one I went with in the end, I guess.” The comment that Marion is too good for Indy makes you glance over at him again and consider. He has that whole dashing-and-daring thing that Indy does —would he think a Marion was too good for him too?

“You’ve got a little bit of Marion in there too.” Javi tells you as he sits back with his wine and takes another sip. It’s pretty damn good with the meal. “Digging for a story down here is kind of like digging for the fucking Arc.” He huffs, halfway grinning.

“I’ve got Marion from plenty of things.” You shrug your shoulders. “Stubborn, persistent, cocky at the wrong times and wildly insecure at others. Plus the drinking.”

“Insecure?” He frowns. “Why? You’re a ball buster. You shouldn’t have an insecure bone in your body.”

“Seriously?” You almost slip and call him Javi, even though you’ve never called him anything but Javier in the whole time you’ve known him. The girls all call him Javi and it feels so intimate. “It’s a total front.”

"It's a good one." He admits. "When you want to exude confidence, you do." He hums to himself as he picks up his bowl again. "You'd make a hell of an actress if it's a front."

“I grew up with older brothers,” you remind him. “You learn to at least pretend to have a spine, or you end up trampled. In my case, I was then stupid enough to go into journalism. So it’s just more men everywhere, and these ones all want me to fail miserably.” Shrugging again, you put down your empty bowl and reach for your wine glass. “Maybe some of it stuck, I don’t know.”

"I don't fucking understand that." Javi shakes his head. "Yeah, there are certain jobs I don't like seeing a woman in. Ones where they are in danger, but that's my own bullshit and I would never want someone to fail."

“Then you were raised with a hell of a lot more respect than any of my colleagues.” There’s nothing really to do about it but keep your head down and keep fighting, so you just wave one hand as if it doesn’t matter. “Which is a comfort, by the way.”

"You don't watch a woman run a ranch, which is fucking hard work, while her husband is in the hospital and not realize that there isn't a whole hell of a lot women can't do." Javi might be old fashioned in some sense, but he had also been raised by a tough woman.

“Cheers to your mother, then.” You raise your glass to that without hesitation. “She sounds like she was a bad ass.”

"She was." He chuckles and lifts his drink in a toast to her. "Just like I'm sure your father was a hell of a man."

“Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re watching us and laughing together.” Tapping your glass against his, the clink rings out, and you share that drink to your parents with pride.

He shakes his head, knowing that his mama is laughing for certain. “She always warned me I would find someone who wouldn’t put up with me just because I was charming.”

“She wanted somebody who saw you for you.” That’s an admirable thing for a parent. For anyone to want for their loved one. “My Dad always said I’d find someone who wouldn’t put up with me talking shit about myself.” He actually said that your soulmate would be that person, but you won’t put that on Javier.

“You shouldn’t talk shit about yourself.” Javi agrees with that. “You have the power in any situation romantically.”

"Absolutely not." The very idea of it earns him a snort from you, and you practically drain your glass to keep from laughing out loud. "That is so far from the truth."

“Why do you think that’s not true?” He asks, curious to hear this answer.

"Because," you reason, finding that last sip of wine and putting your glass back down on the coffee table. "If I had any kind of upper hand, I wouldn't have spent most of my romantic life, I wouldn't have had to settle for weasels that I basically had to beg for attention."

“You have a pussy.” Javi reminds you. “And a nice set of tits and ass.” He rolls his eyes. “If you put your mind to it, you could have all those weasels begging you for attention.”

"That's...not really how it works for girls like me." At least, not in your experience. Or the experience of most other women your size that you've known throughout your life. It makes you lips turn down in a frown and you shift slightly in your place on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Javi frowns when he sees you pull in on yourself and turns back to his bowl. “I’m sorry.”

"No." Breathing out, you shake your head again and wipe your hands on your jeans. "No, my shitty self-esteem is not your responsibility. Sorry. Please don't let it ruin tonight."

“It’s not ruining the night.” Javi promises you. “I just didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

"You aren't." You assure him quickly. "I just...I guess I wish it was true. That it was just that easy."

“Just don’t let anyone give you shit.” He tells you. “You are a good girl.”

"Careful." Before you can stop yourself, the joking ball buster comes out of you all over again. "I might like being praised a little more than other girls."

He stares at you a moment before he snorts and shakes his head. “That’s the kind of attitude you should have.”

"Shameless vampy flirt?" You ask, with one eyebrow raised.

“Vampy?” He lifts a brow of his own in challenge.

Competitive. Your teachers and your brothers and your parents and everyone else in your childhood had always called you competitive. Not in the athletic sort of way. But in the way where you could never back down from a challenge. Almost instantly you're tossing the collar of your sweatshirt off your shoulder and batting your eyelashes, shaping your lips into a pout. "Is that what does it for you? Vampy?"

His cock twitches violently and if you weren’t who you are, he would be on you in a second. Taking you up on the invitation in that look. But you aren’t looking for him to jump you. “Maybe.” He manages, trying to not let it seem like it’s taking everything he had in him to act normal.

Something changes. Something in his eyes flashes. He tenses. Something in the moment reacts so assuredly that your heart speeds up and you unconsciously lick your lips, tongue darting out to wet them like some sort of silent and unintentional test to see if he's watching you as carefully and with as devoted focus as you're watching him. If you – when did you get to this place and why didn't you notice before? – actually want to kiss him as badly as you think you do in this moment.

Javi practically dumps the bowl onto the coffee table as he stands up. You licking your lips bothering him so much he has to move. “Gotta pee.” He explains. “Keep watching the movie.”

"I—uh—" He seems to panic and it deflates you instantly, to the point where all you can do is sputter and shrink back in your seat, shoving your stupid sweater back up on your stupid shoulder. "Right. Okay."

Javi does have to pee, but it takes a moment to get the half chub he has going on to go down. “She’s fucking teasing you.” He reminds himself. “Don’t fucking touch her. Just don’t.”

He was just fucking tease you. You reprimand yourself over and over, trying to get yourself under control before he comes back. Before you give yourself away. Before you have to admit to anyone but yourself that you actually had been hoping that he would take you up on the offer. Calm the fuck down!

After a few minutes, Javi slowly walks back down the hall. “Want a beer?” He asks, hovering between the kitchen and the living room. “Water?”

"Water is fine." More alcohol is probably a bad idea. You don't want to get tipsy and do something that will make things awkward again. "Thank you."

“Welcome.” He gets two glasses of water, figuring he better lay off the booze himself. He’s changed the mood and he doesn’t know how to go back to that somewhat easy vibe but he knows more alcohol won’t help.

With a little less than half the movie left, he brings back two glasses of water and you thank him for your again as he settles back down on the couch. Chi-Chi had barely stirred while he was gone but now she shifts, getting up from her corner of rug to move over four feet and flop down in front of the sofa as if she means to tell you that neither of you is allowed to get up again.

Javi snorts to himself and tries to watch the movie again, spreading his arm across the back of the couch towards you. Legs splayed a little to be comfortable and he takes a sip of his water, “Want a cigarette?”

"Sure. Thanks." You've gotten into the habit of sharing packs while you're in the apartment together so this, at least, is relatively normal. Or at least as normal as the two of you are bound to get.

Sharing a cigarette is normal. He reaches for the pack and puts one in his mouth and flicks the lighter. Taking a drag off the smoke before handing it to you.

It's such a little motion, and so practical, but after that moment of flirtation where you could have sworn you saw attraction in his eyes, it feels so intimate to smoke from a cigarette that was just held by his lips. Like if you try hard enough you could taste him instead.

Shit. You really have to stop thinking like this...

Javi leans back and sighs softly. “Needed that.” He admits. “Need to fucking quit, but I’m already cutting back on other things.”

“I keep thinking I should quit,” you admit, but take another drag when he passes it back to you. “But I never do.”

“Stress.” Javi snorts. “Addiction. Habit. Who knows?” He looks at it seriously and then takes another drag. “Smoking a cigarette is more satisfying than chewing some fucking gum.”

“I honestly don’t even like gum that much.” It’s stupid, that little insignificant piece of trivia about yourself, but you feel like you’ve made some tiny bit of headway tonight. At the very least, if you’re going to be roommates for a while, sharing things seems easier than expecting him to read your mind.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t mind it, but the burn of the nicotine in his chest is what he really wants. “But it doesn’t beat this.” He hands the cigarette back to you, noticing the filter is stained with the last bits of wine from one of your lips, resembling lipstick.

You both silently realize it about the same time, and the smile tugging at your lips grows ever so slightly in silent response. Acts of connection, no matter how small, are making you happy tonight.

“Got another carton in the car.” Javi tells you. “I’ll bring them in before I leave in the morning.”

“Thank you. It’s so much easier than high-tailing it across the city to that American market near my old place.” You’re learning his neighborhood— your neighborhood— little by little. It will be good to put it more of an effort now. Since you’re officially staying put.

“Yeah.” Javi frowns slightly. “Be careful if you go back over on that side of town.” He tells you. “Escobar wasn’t happy about his sicarios.”

“Shit…” You wipe one hand down your face and sigh. “Inez found a new place in that same neighborhood. I’ll have to tell her to watch out.”

“Yeah.” He knows you still talk to the bartender from the club you lived under. She was also your neighbor. “Let her know.”

“Thanks, Javi.” It slips this time, just a nickname. Just a small act of intimacy. But it slips without you even realizing it.

He hears the softness of his nickname on your tongue. Making him want to reach out. To pull you closer to him, but he doesn’t. You two are in this awkward, yet comforting place and he doesn’t want to rock the boat. “You’re welcome.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hey!! Could you possibly write a John Marino x Reader where she has a pregnancy scare while he’s away and debates telling him cause they had a conversation about not being ready for kids? Angst preferably!

[ positively negative ] j. marino

paring : John Marino x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) thinks she’s pregnant while John is on a short roadie, and she debates telling him about it once he gets home since they talked about how neither of them are ready for kids, though she thinks she might be more ready than she told John she was

warning(s) : angst ! mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, throwing up

author’s note : listen, john marino needs more love on this app so i will absolutely write anything for him 🫶🏼 enjoy, anon

༺═──────────────═༻

Something is very much wrong. When she gets sick, she never throws up.

Now, she's learning over the toilet and throwing up every single thing she ate for dinner the night before. It's nearly five in the morning and she's sick in the bathroom.

John is in Vancouver of all places right now so she can’t even call him because it’s two in the morning and he has a game tonight. She hates disturbing his sleep on game day, even when she doesn’t feel good. She knows he’d answer her call, but she can’t bring herself to do it.

The toilet paper runs out as she dries her lips. It was the only thing within reaching distance she could grab so she goes into the cabinet under the sink to grab a new roll.

What she sees instead scares the hell out of her.

An unopened box of tampons that she definitely bought more than a month ago sits in front of the rolls of toilet paper. She sits back on her feet and stares at the box in front of her.

It was three weeks ago when she and John had a whole conversation about how neither one of them were ready for kids. Not that she’s jumping to conclusions but she’s late for her period. It's probably only by a week but it is still enough to worry her.

She’s never been late. Not even when she was stressing out last season when the Devils made playoffs for the first time in five years.

The unopened box of tampons stares her down until she decides that she needs to get up off the bathroom floor and drag herself to the nearest drugstore and buy a pregnancy test. Maybe multiple to be on the safe side.

If a plus sign shows up on any of those sticks then she has no idea what she's going to do. Obviously she'll tell John and they can make a decision together but he made it very clear that he is focused on his career when they talked a few weeks ago, and she feels like she isn't ready to be a mother.

She doesn't have a steady job and doesn't want John to pay for every single thing if they were to have a baby. She wants to be financially stable, which she is far from at the moment.

As soon as she throws on a pair of black sweatpants and a one of John's red Devils hoodies, she walks out the door with the keys to the apartment.

It's colder outside than she thought it would be. It's been a little warmer outside than it usually is for mid-February, but not today.

The closest drugstore that is open isn't very far from the building she and John live in. She buys two boxes of tests, each box containing two tests each. That should be enough.

Her hands are shaking the entire walk back to the apartment. She has no idea if it's because she's cold or because she's nervous.

She doesn't think that John would tell her to get an abortion if any of the tests came back positive. She doesn't think he'd leave her to raise a baby by herself, but she is certain that he probably wouldn't be very happy about it.

Her phone dings with a text when she walks into the apartment. The first thing she sees is that it's six in the morning. The second thing she sees is that John texted her even though it's three in the morning for him right now.

johnny ♡ - 6:19 am i can't sleep so i wanted to let you know that i miss you. hope you have a good day when you see this <3

(Y/N) frowns and calls him instead of texting him back. He picks up the phone after two rings. "I wasn't expecting you to be up when I texted you," he says on the other end of the line.

"I don't feel good so I've been up for an hour," she admits to him as she walks into the master bathroom that's attached to their bedroom. "Why can't you sleep? I thought the jet lag would've gotten better by now." He's been gone for four days already.

He lets out a breathy laugh. "It's just one of those nights," he replies. "Plus I actually do miss you. I was thinking about you so I sent you that text."

She pulls the tests out of the plastic bag. "Such a romantic," she comments. She knows that there's a smile on his face that she can't see right now.

"You said you didn't feel good though," he says after a moment of silence between them. "What's going on?"

With a soft sigh, she says, "I woke up at five and ended up on the bathroom floor for a little bit. I think I'm okay." She's still very nauseous, but that could be her nerves since she's about to take a pregnancy test. "Um, I was going to wait to tell you this but since I have you on the phone, I am currently standing in our bathroom right now with two boxes of pregnancy tests on the sink because I was throwing up and I'm a little late for my period."

She's met with silence. Total silence. John doesn’t say a single word for about thirty seconds.

“Baby-”

“Don’t say that right now,” John snaps. She has to bite her bottom lip to keep from wincing at his tone. “I thought- we are safe every time. Do you really think that you’re pregnant?”

With a shrug that John can’t see, she replies, “I threw up. I never throw up and I’m never late for my period. I’m just doing this to make sure. I have multiple tests that I’ll take to double and triple check.”

More silence, except this time it’s a shorter moment than last time. “I need to, um, go to sleep,” John tells her. “Let me know what happens.”

“John-” she tries to say, but he’s too quick in hanging up the phone. Her throat closes up and her nausea returns at full force.

She retches into the toilet with a cry. “Fuck,” she cries as she recovers.

The pregnancy tests stare at her from the sink as she throws up again.

Yeah, she really has no idea what she’s going to do if one of those comes back as positive.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

She’s angry.

That’s all she’s been feeling since that morning John hung up on her when she told him that she might be pregnant. That morning was two days ago.

He’ll be walking through the door any minute now. She’s sitting on the couch waiting for him.

If she’s learned anything in the past forty eight hours or so is that she’s more ready for kids than she thought she was. She loved a baby she didn’t actually have. She didn’t tell John the tests all came back negative because she was grieving a child that she wasn’t even expecting.

Keys jiggle in the door around eleven in the morning. It swings open and reveals a tired John Marino. He drags his suitcase in behind him and shuts the door once he and his things are in the apartment.

“Good road trip?” she asks from the couch. “Didn’t hear from you after you hung up the phone on me so I hope it went well.”

John freezes and looks over at her. “I, um … ” he trails off. His eyes fall to her belly. “Are you?”

She chucks one of the negative tests at him. “No,” she retorts as he looks at the test. “I’m not.” She pauses. “I want to know what you would’ve done if I was pregnant. You didn’t even hesitate to hang up the phone when I just mentioned the possibility that I was pregnant.”

He leaves his bags by the door and walks over to where she’s sitting. She’s doing everything in her power not to cry because right now, it seems like they might want two completely different things. Couples who have differing opinions on children rarely ever work out.

John takes a seat beside her with the test in his hand. “I wouldn’t leave you to raise a baby alone,” he tells her. “I also don’t think I was clear in our conversation before. If we were to expect a baby, I would need some time to get myself together but I would love you and Baby Marino so much. I wouldn’t leave either of you. I’m sorry if that came across as me leaving. I’m just not ready to start actually trying for kids.”

A tear spills onto her cheek and her bottom lip shakes.

“You wouldn’t run?”

“I wouldn’t run,” he assures her. “Like I said, I might need a second but I would never ever leave you to raise a baby alone. It takes two to make a baby and it’ll take two to raise one.”

John reaches out to brush away the tear that has rolled down her cheek. She leans into his touch. Usually when he comes back from a roadie, she’s immediately in his arms. Today she had to hold back because of how mad she was.

She blinks a few times and he comes back into focus. He has a small smile on his face. “I think I’m more ready to be a mother than I thought I was,” she admits. “I was so ready to love our baby and was more upset than relieved when those tests came back negative.”

“We’ll have a baby,” John tells her. “I promise. Just give me a little more time, okay?”

“Okay.”

She gives in and moves closer to her boyfriend. He wraps his arms around her instantly and she buries her face in his neck. John kisses the top of her head before he rests his cheek against her forehead.

“You’re okay though?” he questions. “Since you were throwing up.”

With a nod, she says, “I think it was food poisoning. Ate some bad seafood the night before.”

John laughs and shakes his head. “You would mistake food poisoning for being pregnant.”

“Shut up.”

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[huh-1260]

I'm looking at Train Crash AU and thinking.

Man what if I injured Wars more for more bandages because I pretty sure I didn't give him enough for his severed arm

So what about an angsty reunion with an Adult Wind with Wars?

:)

The few whumps I have aren't angsty enough for my soul

so imagine you grow up after going away from your found family across time and you don't get to meet your brother again, but a younger version of him that doesn't know who you are and you get to watch him fall apart and you don't get to see how he became the big brother you knew him as. Also your father figure is now a brat. This is how Wind feels, because the moment he saw the portal that the shadow used seven years later. He's was excited to see his brothers again, to see Wars again. But no, it seems that fate fucking hates him, because while his other brothers come out perfectly well, with some differences in time passing for others; Legend: two years, Twilight: nine years, Time a month, Four: 5 years, Sky: 1 year, Wild: 6 months post TOTK, Hyrule: 5 years. Wars doesn't come through the portal at all. So while everyone accidentally calls him the captain (he never really saw how the others said he looked like the captain, plus he's in a different timeline he can't be related to him) and so during Sky's wedding, just right before Sky and Sun are about to kiss, a portal opens from the ceiling, and someone falls through on the ground, splattering onto the floor:

_____________

There's blood everywhere, people are screaming, and with the crowd of people running out on the building. Theres something else that came out of the portal as the person. A fading blue blob thing that screams in gibberish looking at the person and Sun. Sky doesn't have his sword on him. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck- this is what he gets for standing in the back waiting for- Oh fuck that either way he could have came! The person that landed on the floor, is dragging their legs to the blob, with their only other arm that's there and stabs it. The thing screams as it fades to ash. The person drops to the floor, but Twilight catches him before he could hit the ground (again). He doesn't get to hear the mysterious person but he could recognize that voice from anywhere, no matter how weak or scratchy it would be.

"Sorry everyone."

That was Wars, as Hyrule was rushing over to heal him.

_________

Okay that ain't angst enough for me so for a more proper "reunion", like a few weeks, no one let's Wind see Wars because they still treat him like the child he was even though he's as old as the others during the adventure across time! So he tries to sneak into Wars temporary room, while Wars tries to escape his room because he's gone stir crazy and yes Time he's fine! Just because he's gone through another war and lost a few important parts doesn't mean he needs coding! He has to make sure everyone is safe! So they bump into each other for the first time since they really last saw each other. (But that doesn't explain why Wind is crying- SHUT UP AND LET ME COOK) So they chat for a bit, like in a joking manner and Wars slips out that "Hey, another war happen and there was still some people across still stuck there." And Wind is mad that Wars just drops this kind of bomb, because why didn't he let the others come help him. So they end up arguing a bit and:

_________

"Why do you keep ignoring that we could have helped! I could have helped!" He yelled.

"If I dragged you there YOU could have died and Artemis wouldnt exist. I WOULDN'T EXSIST!" Wars yelled back.

__________

Now you see the angst?

So oof on both sides, Wars is internal bashing himself on the head, Wind is panicking because he becomes a dad, he's actually related to Wars- OH MY FUCKING SEA BOAT I MARRY TETRA?! And meanwhile Time is standing in the corner with surprise Pikachu face because oh shit Wars is from the timeline he technically abandoned. And like the fucking legend he came back when they needed him most

So that's uh what I have for now again.

[yourmommygay]

Faking it all.

Summary: high school au where colby is the popular guy and y/n is the shy good girl. Will they fall in love im not sure.

Pairings: colby brock x plus size!chloe sanchez (aka you reading this) , sam golbach x Amanda sid, jake webber x Tara yummy.

THIS IS A SERIES, MDI 18+.

Warnings: explicit language, smut, mutual pinning, bullying, fighting, mentions of abuse, colby being kind of a dick at first, Amber being a bully (I love Amber so much, she would never pick on some1 I know but it's just for the story)

It started off as just another day, walking through the school halls when chloe reached her locker. Trying to balance her books in one arm while opening her locker with the other, she heard heels clicking on the floor which could mean one of two things, either chloes day was about to go south or her best friend was coming.

"Hey nerd" she heard Amanda behind her, rolling her eyes at the nickname chloe finally got her locker open. " hi Amanda, where's Tara?" Chloe asked her friend while shoving her books into her locker, "here she comes with jake, sam and colby" Amanda said. Chloe could see Amanda push up her boobs making the non-existent cleavage appear, making chloe giggle closing her locker turning around to lean on it looking at the group coming towards her and Amanda.

"Hey sam" Amanda said playing with her hair, "hey baby, wanna go get some breakfast?" Sam asked her putting an arm around Amanda's shoulder, she nodded and they walked toward the cafeteria, "hey girly, I missed you over the summer" Tara said pulling me into a hug, "you look so different but you look beautiful." She said pulling back to admire me.

Chloe was wearing minimal makeup, a slipknot band shirt, ripped jeans and combat boots and her glasses. "What do you guys think?" Tara asked the guys turning back to them, "oh yeah, I like your outfit" jake said smiling then pulling me into a hug, "yeah you look nice chlo-" colby started but got cut off "oh hi colby!" Amber said walking over.

She gave colby a hug and then pulled away to give me a dirty look "why are you hanging with this freak? Do you feel bad for her? Aw you've always been so sweet" she said praising colby but also insulting me, "go away Amber, I'm hanging out with chloe cause we are friends" colby said shrugging Amber off his arm coming to stand next to me putting his arm around me.

"But colby we are supposed to be together, your the most popular boy, apart from sam and I'm the most popular girl, apart from Amanda. We should be together like sam and Amanda." Amber said trying to persuade colby. "Everybody in this hall, do you like Amber more or chloe!" Jake shouted, a chant of chloe's name started along with people saying things like "she helps me with homework", "she's a good person, Amber isn't", "she always listens to me and gives me good advice".

Chloe started to smile and tear up hearing that she had a good effect on these peoples lives, "you heard them Amber, if I should be with anyone it's gonna be chloe, it makes sense. Jake and Tara, sam and Amanda, me and chloe. Just makes sense" colby said pulling her closer to him.

Truth be told, she had always had a thing for colby ever since they met when they were 3 and their dad's became work buddies, colby had never been a total dick to her. He would make jokes that made him sound like a dick but he was also a dick to those that hurt chloe.

Chloe wouldn't know it yet but colby had felt the same as chloe that's why he would always joke around with her but also protect her, chloe may not remember a thing colby promised her at the age of 6 but colby did and he was always gonna stick to it,

*Flashback*

Colby and chloe had been playing all day outside in the park, their mother's sitting at a bench with each other laughing at some story they were sharing, as chloe and colby were playing tag chloe bumped into another kid, his name is zach. He was the main bully in the school, taking kids toys and keeping them, hitting teachers and throwing things when he wouldn't get what he wanted.

As zach turned around he looked at chloe as if he was about to hit her, as he went to hit her colby pushed him out of the way and kicked him grabbing chloes hand and rushing over to their mom's.

In the back of his mom's car he turned to chloe "are you OK?" He asked chloe moving over towards her, she nodded and quietly replied "yes, thank you for what you did back there".

Colby chuckled "I promise you I will always protect you and I will love you forever" he said grabbing her hand and kissing it fully locking in the promise.

*end of flashback*

Colby made sure to keep to his promise but now loving chloe in a different way he had when they were younger. All colby new was that this year was the year he made chloe his.

A/n I hope you liked this, this was part one of the series I'm not sure how many parts there will be, I might also put this on my wattpad.

[10blue10]

Growing Up Berkian

(Aka my head-canons/world-building of life on Berk in HTTYD, inspired by the ‘Growing Up…’ series on YouTube.)

Houses 

Family homes are passed down from fathers to sons, whilst married women will leave their family homes and move into their husbands home. Thus, homes on Berk contain the sons who inherited it, plus their wives and children. 

Each house has two stories, with a ground floor consisting of a ‘kitchen’ where food is prepared and eaten, as well as the parents’ rooms. Above is a loft area where the children sleep and can also be used for food storage for the winter. 

In a household with mixed genders of children, an old sailcloth is hung halfway across the loft space, with girls sleeping on one side and boys on the other. 

Jobs     

Dragons or not, life in a village is hard work and Berk is no exception. Most Hooligans are farmers or fishermen. There is a blacksmith, carpenters, a butcher, a miller, a potter, shipbuilders, a brewer and at least one law-speaker. 

Even though Berk is egalitarian when it comes to women fighting, as they needed every able bodied warrior they could get to fight dragons, most chores are gender segregated. The men work fields, herd livestock, and go fishing. The women weave cloth, mend and wash clothes, bake bread, cook food and generally run the household. They sometimes learn the healing arts as well. 

All Hooligans get taught how to fight, and the Berk Guard is a militia led by the Berk General. It’s their job to be on lookout for attacks in times of war and be the first line of defence when Berk is attacked, whether by dragons or other Vikings. When not on Guard duty, they go about their normal chores and lives. 

Children  

Mothers are helped to care for their babies by their grandmothers, siblings and elder children. With a baby, everyone is expected to pitch in, whether by caring for the infant directly or doing the mother’s chores for her. A baby is named twelve days after birth, if they survive that long. Some families give names with a common part, like As for the Hoffersons, Lout for the Jorgensons, Nut for the Thorstons and Legs for the Ingermans. Other families have ‘themed’ names. 

Very young children (3 to 5 years old) aren’t expected to do chores and are free to play. This being Berk, miniature toy weapons are popular. Hooligan children become accustomed to their stubborn, violent lifestyles from a young age by being told rather gruesome nursery rhymes and bedtime stories. 

Young children (6 to 8 years old) are taught by their families to read, and sometimes write, runes. This often takes place during the long winter months. Being able to read is considered more important than being able to write, since only some individuals (like the chief and lawmakers) need to write stuff down. 

9 to 12 year olds are mature enough to do chores, even if it’s only a matter of helping with bigger jobs like cleaning the house, cooking dinner etc. As well as being taught to read, they are taught other skills to help them do their chores. Apart from these simple chores, they have free time to play with each other. 

Teenagers 

Teenagers (literally anyone at an age that ends with ‘teen’, so 13 to 19) are apprenticed to a trade, either that of their parents or a friend/family member. They don’t necessarily have to begin said apprenticeship at the age of 13; it can be started later, or even earlier. In general, the sooner the better, though. 

These apprenticeships usually become their adult jobs, so finding one that fits is important. It does less good for the village as a whole if a teenager is bad at their assigned role. For this reason the apprenticeship can change if a more suitable job is found. Or, morbidly, if the previous apprentice has been killed.

[saeskiss]

𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄

kazuha x fem!reader. 1.9k wc. 5/6/23. part 1! part 3!

you’re drunk, and you’re ready to make stupid mistakes, and kazuha thinks you’re even irresistible than you usually are.  

✧ make-out sesh, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, kazuha brings you as his plus one to his mom’s second wedding, alcohol consumption, mentions of groping. (not kazuha doing it). based on taylor swift’s song “dress”. ooc kazuha (maybe???) 

“kazuuuuuuuuuhaaaa.” his name comes out as a slur, the familiar feeling of domesticity fills up kazuha’s heart, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he enjoys this side of you that you’re sharing with him.

sure, you’ve been drunk before and especially in kazuha’s presence but this time it was different. 

much more different from the other three big instances that you were drunk in front of him. 

the first instance was when you guys had first started university together and you were so happy that you guys had both gotten accepted into the same university, (you had silently prayed to the moon every night hoping that the universe would be on your side) and it did end up being on your side. you had gotten a little too excited and rushed to kazuha’s house carrying some of your mom’s wine to celebrate another couple of years with him hoping that you guys could tell each other about the feelings you guys had shared with each other for the longest time. 

and soon you and kazuha discovered that your alcohol tolerance wasn’t high. at all. 

this was a big problem for him. especially when you turned the legal age to properly and actually drink. 

you weren’t such a big fan of parties and kazuha knew this. you didn’t like loud noises and crowded rooms because they were absolutely suffocating. and trying to scare off strangers that were trying to grope you wasn’t exactly your most favorite thing. but this wouldn’t completely stop you from going out and having a little fun with your other friends. (yes, you have other friends besides kazuha, surprise surprise.) 

and this especially wasn’t going to stop beidou from dragging you to go attend ningguang’s parties that she would throw every now and then. (the second biggest and most common occurrence) this doesn’t happen commonly but when it does it brings misfortune for the white-haired male. these situations always ended up with you extremely drunk (you frequently participated in beidou’s drinking competitions even though you guys were both lightweights) (how chaotic and idiotic for the both of you) and keqing giving kazuha a call for him to come and bring you back to his house so that you could sober up. although what did happen was that kazuha would bring you back dead asleep and you would wake up in the morning with a huge headache and both you and kazuha would call in sick for your classes and you would stay snuggled up on his couch catching up on your favorite tv shows while he goes the store to buy you some painkillers. 

the third and his favorite drunk instance with you was when you had seen kazuha with a girl you had never seen him with before and usually, you would’ve taken this as kazuha being a friendly person because he was, much more friendly than you were that’s for sure but this time it was different. or maybe it wasn’t. 

you don’t know what it was in you but something in your heart burned more than the chugging of tequila. you went home and dropped beidou a call and opened your alcohol cabinet (many of the bottles were gifts from ningguang or your parents or kazuha’s parents) and you had downed a whole bottle in the span of two minutes, the sound of your cries could probably be heard by the whole floor, hell maybe the whole apartment. when beidou had arrived she was in shock to see the bad state you were in. after a rough twenty minutes beidou realized that she really couldn’t deal with someone who was drunk when she had an important exam so her last and only resort was to call the only person that you’ve ever really had feelings for. and she knew that kazuha would be able to take of you better than anyone else, but she wasn’t going to mention it because she was afraid the tears would turn into a full-on sob session. 

kazuha shows up at your door with the same reaction as beidou because a couple of hours ago you guys were planning to meet up at a coffee shop to study together even though you guys were majoring in two different subjects, you guys thought the presence of each other would be comforting but then you had canceled on him to study with beidou? he really didn’t understand.

if the white-haired male was going to be really honest, he was kind of frustrated. not at you, but more of himself. it wasn’t a date or anything so he had no right to be upset but here he was. upset that you had canceled plans with him to hang out with someone else. and to be honest, he could’ve drank with you. he doesn’t know why you chose beidou.

but let’s just say that this story ends with a heated make-out session on your island stools in your kitchen and you having a huge hangover the next day not remembering anything that had happened yesterday which had kazuha defeated, desperate for another try. because c’mon, you stole his first kiss and his first make-out session all in one night.  

but that’s enough stories about the past times you had been under the influence. 

back to the current situation that kazuha was worrying about: you getting tipsy over two measly shots that his mother had offered during the dinner that only gave effect after a good 10 minutes and here you were in your hotel room that his mom had booked for the two of you. it was pretty obvious she knew what was going on. and maybe this was all apart of her plan. 

“y/n.” he deadpans, staring at you who has been sitting on the ground next to the bed for the last ten minutes with your head rested onto the bed. “get up from the ground.” he lowers himself to be on the same level as you.

“nooooo. i don’t want to go.” you cross your arms, with a scowl on your face, hearing a sigh from the white-haired male.

a moment of silence passes by before he sighs again, “i’m tired.” your grin starts to turn into a frown.

“come on. get onto the bed. or i’ll carry you bridal style onto the bed.” he says, grabbing one of your arms attempting to get you laying on the bed so he could get a glass of water for you so you could start to sober up.

you squeal as he picks you up from your spot on the ground and carries you onto the bed tickling you making you giggle. 

you get up from your laying position on the bed which makes kazuha groan with his failed attempt to try and get water to sober you up while you lie in bed patiently waiting for him to come back. which was quite literally impossible with you being under the influence. 

“kazuha.” you get serious this time and he stops his whining and complaining to face you and have an intoxicated conversation with you with just you as the one intoxicated and him not so much. 

“what is it y/n?” and the sweet sound of your name makes your heart beat faster and it makes you riskier. it makes you want to do things to kazuha that you wouldn’t normally do if it wasn’t for your inebriation. 

you come closer to his face and your guys’ eyes meet. kazuha tries to stay focus and tries to calm his heart down as much as he can so you can’t hear it because its embarrassing having this big of a schoolgirl crush on someone he’s known since he was in diapers. 

and it’s especially embarrassing on how much anticipation he has in this very moment; you’re unpredictable. and god he wishes he knew what was going on in your head right now because he can’t stop himself from thinking about things that would never happen in a million years. 

“you’re so pretty you know that?” you cup his face waiting for his response but all you’re met with is a flushed face and a frustrated sigh from kazuha.

he doesn’t know much longer he can hold it all in. 

hold in the urge from wanting to kiss you all over again, because god seeing you in that pretty tight white dress is making him go insane. he says a simple, “thank you.” in response. 

“can i kiss you?” you ask him and he doesn’t know what to say because he shouldn’t say no, and he knows he should say no, but he would do absolutely anything to kiss you one more time. but this wasn’t right. 

this was the second time that he would be doing this. taking advantage of you while you were drunk. 

but your scent was so addicting and he couldn’t get enough of it and he was yearning for the touch of your soft lips against his so he nods reluctantly.  

and he knows it’s wrong, and he knows he’ll apologize in the morning this time and confront the fact that he made a mistake doing this with you. 

but as soon as your lips crash, he never wants the sweet taste of peppermint from your chapstick mixed with the raging taste of alcohol to leave his mouth and he starts to not regret the decision he made so much. your lips were so insanely soft against his, your movements are slow yet so intense making kazuha yearn for more. he wanted more. he took a breath of your enthralling scent, your perfume was mixed with strawberries and mint. it was addicting and it sent his head spinning, butterflies emerging in his stomach as you smile into his kiss. you start to move slowly on his lap, his hands traveling down to your thighs. you to let out a whimper at the sudden gesture and that was more than enough for him to get a wake up call and realize what he was doing wrong. 

he pulls away, lips swollen and rough breaths are the only sound being heard in the room for a couple of seconds.

“i can’t. i’m sorry. i’m taking advantage of you and it’s wrong.” he stops with you still sitting on his lap your hands drop to your side.

you frown. “i’m sorry. we can do this when you’re sober. i promise.” he gently caresses your cheek, coming close to your face, his lips lightly touching your forehead.

“okay.” you finally give in and respond, “but can you do me one more thing?” he groans once more, at this point he’s afraid of your requests because if you plead him to do anything he will oblige and you have so much power over him and he is frightened by how much power you have over him. 

“one more kiss? please?” 

oh, kill kazuha right now. you just pleaded and there was no way he was going to decline. 

“mkay.” he uses both of his hands to grip your waist as your lips meet, the exciting sensation rushing through his body and making kazuha’s head spin, wanting more, but he pulls away because he’s well aware of how many boundaries he’s overstepped today. 

“is that it?” you nod, your eyes meet again and the white-haired male is about to explode with how much tension was in the room now and he knew he had to do something to stop himself from doing anything more stupid.

“come on. let’s get you in bed and let me grab you a glass of water.” 

©saeskiss 2023

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.2k words // masterlist an: i'll add tags later tonight after work, but I wanted to get this posted before i leave <;3 tw: brief mentions of abortion, language

The bathroom counter was entirely covered with various types of pregnancy tests. After the first four showed positive, Aelin had gone back to the pharmacy and bought every type they had available. HCG tests that were no more than skinny bits of paper, typical plastic ones, digital ones. Not a single one had given her the negative she was looking for. Paper results from an emergency room visit yesterday morning showed the same thing, only this time it was there in her blood. 

She hadn’t gone to the ER for pregnancy results— that would have been silly. She went at the urging of Lysandra because since finding out a few days ago, her anxiety made her symptoms even worse. Aelin hadn’t been able to keep down liquids of any sort and dehydration quickly set in. A quick prick of a needle had fluids and anti-nausea medication flowing into her bloodstream. Discharge paperwork referred her to an OBGYN and had a script written for Zofran, a stronger nausea medication so she could keep food and water down. It had become her best friend.

The thought of an abortion had crossed her mind, even in the moments before Lysandra had asked if she wanted to keep it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a mother— she did. But it was a dream that happened after she was more settled in her career and in a fully committed relationship. Not while she was opening the second office and had so much hard work ahead of her, not when she barely knew the father. 

It wasn’t an idea she could fully entertain without talking to Rowan first, to see where he stood on it. But she already knew what her choice was, even if he didn’t want the responsibility. She would keep it. As much as her anxiety felt like walking on the wooden slats of a rickety rope bridge over a gaping canyon, a deep love was already blooming in her heart the size of a sesame seed. It would only get bigger with each passing day, that what-ifs of it all dancing behind her eyelids while she slept. 

What are you up to tonight? I’m in Doranelle and if you can swing it, I want to see you

She shot off the text and stared out her office window while she waited for a reply. It had been a lie, she wasn’t in Doranelle. But she needed to see Rowan and talk to him about everything as soon as possible. With a mind full of racing thoughts and unanswered questions, of the half truths she’d given him about her life… the only thing that could truly calm her nerves was talking it through with him. 

All yours after 6. 

A heavy sigh fell from her lips as she glanced at the time— 4:30– then rubbed at her temples. It was going to be a long night. 

~*~ 

It was the first time Aelin had been to Rowan’s house in Doranelle. All of their time had been spent at her apartment so far. In fact, she had only been over to his apartment in Varese a single time, just long enough for him to grab something before they went out on their downtown adventure. 

The apartment was nice, of course, but didn’t seem to hold a candle to the house she was parked in front of. When pulling down the long and winding driveway, her eyes darted between the numbers on the house as soon as it appeared and what she had entered into her GPS. Rowan’s SUV in the driveway assured her it was the correct home, but… 

How the hell did a man on a coach’s salary afford this house plus a luxury apartment in another major city? 

It was new construction, a contemporary home made of dark wood and ebony stone. It was nestled back off the road and surrounded by towering oak trees in every direction. Long curtains were drawn inside, hiding which rooms had walls of floor to ceiling windows. She imagined him laying on his couch after a long day with the curtains open, gazing out at the setting sun beyond the trees. 

It was beautiful. The tranquility of it was amped up to a thousand when she opened her door and stepped out. Somewhere in the tree line a stream trickled along, the soft sound of moving water enough to calm her nerves if only a little. 

Almost as soon as her toes touched the bottom step that led up to the porch, the front door swung open. Rowan grinned at her, a dish towel in his hands while he dried them. Scents of garlic, onion, rosemary, and other spices wafted out the front door. Thankfully her stomach only growled in response and didn’t have her bent  over the railing to empty her stomach into the bushes. 

“Hey, you,” he said softly, meeting her halfway across the porch. Long fingers tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips. 

“Hi,” she whispered back, standing on her toes to kiss him again. Rowan took her hand and led her through the door and toward the kitchen. Even though she offered, he insisted she sit at the bar while he finished dinner. 

“Wine?”

“Water, please.” Thankfully it didn’t raise any questions about why. He filled a tall glass with ice water and slid it over the counter to her before turning to resume dinner. 

“How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, nervous fingers drumming against her stomach. One of her legs had taken to bouncing on the wooden footrest and her breaths became shorter, more frequent. Nausea swirled in the pit of her belly but this, she knew, wasn’t morning sickness. Aelin didn’t realize she was biting her lip until she tasted metal, nor did she realize Rowan had moved to her side. 

“Hey,” his bent forefinger guided her face to look at his, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” Those four words, four measly syllables were all it took to douse the room in cold tension. 

“Okay.” Rowan nodded, taking a moment to turn the burners on the stove down. He guided her into the living room where he sat her down on a plush gray couch that she seemed to sink into. 

“Can I just—” Aelin leaned forward and kissed him softly, then sat back with her legs folded beneath her. As if on instinct, her hands folded in front of her stomach protectively. 

“You’re starting to frighten me.” He murmured, hand resting on her knee to give her a comforting squeeze.  Aelin wanted to laugh, and almost did. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up one of several images of her bathroom counter and handed him the device. “I’m pregnant.” 

Rowan was silent while she swallowed down her emotions, forcing everything to stay buried under an exterior mask of calm. His green eyes stared, and stared, and stared at the picture, fingers zooming in on the dozens of tests on her counter. 

“Is it mine?”

“I–” Aelin tempered her frustration. It was a valid question. If she were in his shoes, she would have been asking the same thing. “Yes. You’re the only man I’ve been with in the last year.”

It was a little embarrassing to say out loud. The last few years had been busy and she’d seldom made time for a personal life. It was exactly the kind of thing her mother was referring to when she meant that Aelin had a knack for having absolutely no work-life balance.

“How? We used protection. You’ve told me before you’re on birth control.” More valid questions that she herself had voiced to Lysandra in the minutes after taking the first few tests.

“My guess is that it broke? The condom, I mean.  I haven’t missed a single dose of my birth control. I triple checked.” Aelin’s knee began to bounce, that anxious ocean ready to swallow her up whole from not knowing the outcome of this situation. She hated not knowing things, not being able to predict how a person might respond. 

Locking the phone, he placed it on the sofa between them, a muscle feathering in his clenched jaw. Rowan didn’t meet her eyes as he stared forward and tensely asked, “Are you doing it for money.” 

“What?” She sputtered, immediately standing and crossing the room from whatever bullshit that question had been. Of all the ways she had anticipated him reacting, this had not been on the list. All of the nervous energy roiling through her quickly turned to something hot. Like some struck a match and threw it on a puddle of kerosene. 

“Are you doing it for my money?” He repeated, voice flat as he finally looked up at her. Rowan didn’t move from the couch as he stared at her, all the softness she was used to on his face gone. Any of the mirth and joy in his eyes she’d become accustomed to was gone. 

The butterflies he usually filled her stomach with had turned into white-hot rage pouring through every vein of her body. Aelin’s face was hot, eyes stinging as she did her best to force her tears away. It had been a long while since she’d become so angry that she jumped immediately to crying about it. 

Something had changed in Rowan’s face, too, as he looked at everything written across her face as plainly as if she had shouted at him. His eyes softened a little, his hands clenching against his thighs. 

“Why the fuck would I want your money?” She didn’t let him finish before saying, “Ask me what my last names are.” 

“You have more than one?” Confusion had his brows pulled together and wrinkles stacked up his forehead. Rowan stood, taking a handful of steps toward her. Aelin retreated with her fingers pressed against her stomach. “Are you married or something?”

“Ask. Me.” She demanded of him, voice and hands shaking. Tears started to fill her eyes and spill over, her skin so warm they were cool as they ran down her cheeks. Even the tips of her ears had gone crimson, evident in the way they burned beneath her hair. It was the exact opposite of how she had felt the first time she saw those two pink lines on that pregnancy test. A sea of wild, unchecked flame lived within her, pumped through her heart, burned the back of her throat, her cheeks, her ears. 

“What are your—”

“Ashryver Galathynius. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.” Each of her names was punctuated with that fire, her entire body trembling with so many emotions at once. As much as he was into the stupid fucking sport, he would understand what it meant.

And he did. Rowan’s entire face went slack, those wrinkles disappearing from his brows, his jaw popping open. Even his arms fell motionless to his sides. 

“As in— shit.” 

“My grandfather and my father,” she added for extra clarification, so that he knew it wasn’t a distant connection. It was direct. “Ask me again if I want your fucking money,” she spit the word at him like it burned her mouth to say it. It kind of did. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that his reaction would be so callous and cold, that he would accuse her of getting knocked up for money. What fucking money? Why the fuck would she go after a teacher’s salary when her own checking account was so loaded she, and her child, would ever want for anything? 

“Aelin–” Rowan took a step forward, hand raised as he reached for her. Aelin held up a single finger and shook her head, recoiling from him.

“Don’t.”

“I need to–”

“You need to go fuck yourself, Rowan.” Her footsteps chased her like thunder rolling in for a storm, punctuated by the window-shaking slam of the front door. To give him one ounce of credit, he did follow her, but by the time he made it outside, she was already in her car, pulling a u-turn in his yard, and speeding down the driveway. Nothing but a cloud of dust remained in her wake.

In the rearview, Rowan’s form was blurry from her tears, his arms on top of his head while he watched her leave. 

~*~

It was late. Like, the bar had been closed for an hour already, late. The Neon Moon was empty, save for Rowan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan, and Lorcan. They had an off weekend, and a drink was desperately needed by all. When Rowan arrived at the bar half an hour before closing and pounded back enough drinks that it was almost alarming, everyone decided to linger until he started to talk. 

“Dude.” Fenrys poked his arm with an outstretched hand. The response was a slurred grumble in the old language that not even Lorcan managed to pick up.

“What’d you do?” Connall asked, bracing his arms on the counter. Rowan lifted his head, room spinning like he’d just finished doing ballerina turns. Aelin liked to dance. He hadn’t ever seen it but he could imagine her in tights and a leotard, a tutu around her waist. She probably didn’t get dizzy when doing turns. 

Nausea hit him in a wave and he took a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. Closing his eyes made it even worse, so he kept them open and fixed on Connall’s face. Ballerinas did that, didn’t they? Focused on one spot so they didn’t get dizzy or fall out of their tight spins? 

As the nausea abated, he remembered holding Aelin’s hair back for her while she was sick a couple weeks ago. Neither of them knew it then, but she was pregnant. He wondered if she was still feeling sick all the time or if it was getting better every week. A frown took over his whole face, eyes dropping to focus on a dent in the counter. Someone had carved a heart there, and he wanted to scribble over it. 

“She’s pregnant.” Was all he managed to get out, trying his hardest to enunciate his words. Everyone went utterly still and silent, Lorcan moving to sit in the chair beside him. 

“Did she fucking–” he started, leaning his head down to try to look at Rowan’s face. The silver-haired man waved his friend off, shaking his head like an indignant child.

“I’m not drinking because of the baby. Or the woman.” It was true. Rowan had always wanted to be a father, it was a dream of his. Sure, it would have been nice if it happened in a more ideal way, but that wasn’t why he took so many shots as soon as he walked through the door. No, it was the look on her face when he coldly asked if she wanted money. The betrayal that slowly leached over her features, the way she bit back tears until she couldn’t anymore. “I monumentally fucked up.”

“That does usually lead to a baby,” Fen quipped, a sly smirk starting to appear on his lips. As quickly as it started to form, though, it vanished after a hard smack! against the side of his head, courtesy of Lorcan. The fair side to Connall’s dark coin groaned, blindly slapping his hand against his attacker’s shoulder. Another searing look from Lorcan had Fen’s hands falling back into his lap. 

“In what way?” Vaughan had leaned forward to see around Lorcan’s head while he spoke. The wood was cool against Rowan’s cheek as he laid his head on the bar, desperate to stop the spinning of the room. 

“She told me she was pregnant, showed me all the tests from a photo on her phone,” Rowan waved his hand toward his phone that he frowned at, “And then I asked her if she did it for money.”

“Oh, you bloody wanker,” Fenrys mumbled, shaking his head. The man in question was sitting up on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. His foot twitched like he debated kicking him in the knee. Rowan wouldn’t have blamed him. He deserved worse than that. 

“It’s a valid question.” Lorcan’s voice was sharp enough that Fenrys twisted his mouth to the side, eyes narrowed like he might disagree with him, but wouldn’t to avoid further physical injury. Instead, he offered a shrug of his shoulders and kept his mouth firmly shut as Rowan laid his head back down. Something was damp beneath his cheek, cooling his whiskey-hot skin. 

“It really wasn’t. Not when she told me that Ciaran Ashryver is her grandfather and Rhoe Galathynius is her godsdamn father,” Rowan growled. His anger and irritation was pointed to no one but himself. “She doesn’t need my money. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m a soccer coach because she was absolutely mind boggled that I’d even ask her such a thing. I don’t even know why I asked, either. The fear of it all, of–”

“Her father is Rhoe Galathynius?” Lorcan cut in, and Rowan wanted to kiss his forehead for cutting off that spiral. 

“Yep,” he replied, the p sound popping more than it normally would. And her cousin is Aedion bloody Ashryver! How did I not see it? They look nearly like twins! They have the same face!” Rowan shouted, palm slapping against the counter between each revelation. Fenrys jolted, eyes widening as he slipped off the bar and an entire seat away. Rowan was too drunk to shoot him an apologetic look for coming so close to his leg. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out,” Connall said smoothly, grabbing an empty glass and filling it with water. 

“Are you telling me you fucking knew?” Rowan said through clenched teeth, lifting his head so he felt like he was seeing the room through a kaleidoscope. Despite the whirling of the world, he met his friend's gaze. A bit of mirth twinkled in Connall’s eyes, a match for the anger in Rowan’s own head on. Clearly Connall only had loyalty to his brother and himself, if he just threw Rowan to the wolves like that.

“I didn’t know her exact relation, I just assumed. They look too much alike to be anything else. Did I know she was a football princess? No, but she knew too much about the sport when you talked, I figured she was involved in some way.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Connall slid the water toward Rowan. “And she definitely doesn’t know who you are. Earlier this week she was asking me if the boys had any games this weekend because she wanted to see you but didn’t want to interfere with your coaching. She’s never pried about what you do for a living, always took it at face value and assumed you were being honest.”

“I want another drink,” Rowan grumbled.

That was the other thing, wasn’t it? Sure, she had been lying. But so had he. In that initial moment of shock, where he felt like history could be repeating all over again, he’d lost it. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case. How timid and nervous she was, how sick she had been, the evidence in the picture of dozens of tests covering her bathroom counter. Rowan had seen it all with his own two eyes and still taken the shitty, cold, asshole route. 

If he was being honest, at the time it felt like the easier road to take. Aelin clearly had a temper hiding under her skin, though. Those remarkable eyes of hers had glowed with the anger he sparked. It had been fire in her eyes, white hot and raging. Maybe it had been the light playing off the tears that welled in her eyes, making her eyes glitter, but he had never seen anyone quite so angry, or quite so devastatingly beautiful. 

That was the mother of his child. A stunning, spit-fire of a woman that it was all too easy to imagine a future with. A life with. Even before finding out about the baby Rowan had imagined ways he could make the long distance work when she went back to Orynth in a few months. Now, it felt stupid. A bomb had been detonated and it was entirely his fault. Because he was the bomb. Ruining everything good that touched him. 

Perhaps he should have been drunk when she delivered the news. Drunk Rowan would never have said that to her. 

“She’s so pretty,” he mumbled aloud, finger dipping into the puddle his ice glass made and beginning to write her name across the bar. Lorcan nudged his shoulder, shaking his head. Right. That was pathetic. Rowan Whitethorn was not pathetic. To prove it, he picked up the glass of whiskey Connall handed him and downed it in one go. 

“I can’t believe you asked Aelin Galathynius if she wanted money.” It seemed that Fen could no longer  restrain his smart mouth. His chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Hate to break it you, mate, but I’m pretty sure–”

“Fenrys,” Lorcan growled, immediately shutting the pup up. Even the laughter in his face was quick to die off. Drunk Rowan was grateful for it. Right now he was toeing the line of punch first, ask questions later. “Let’s get you home. We’ll start to figure this out tomorrow.”

Despite his words, Lorcan still sounded tense. Like he, too, was clenching his jaw with frustration. Rowan imagined it had to do with him not believing Aelin, thinking she knew and was chasing his money or fame. That didn’t make sense, though. Drunk or sober, it didn’t make sense for her to want his money or his fame.

Rowan’s mind wandered on the drive home. If she wanted the fame, it would be easy enough for her to get it on her own. Rowan had learned in the hours after she left that if she had wanted to, she could have been a socialite. She certainly didn’t need Rowan’s help.

Back when she attended matches there were hundreds of pictures of her cheering in her family’s suite, of her on the field offering the players high fives, of her family out to dinner. If it was fame she wanted, she already had a clear shot at it. Besides, she was already a national treasure to Terrasen. The following she on the Fireheart social media pages and her personal instagram alone was more than some of his teammates had. 

Money didn’t make sense either. She was on good terms with her parents and after minimal digging he discovered she wasn’t teaching dance and piano. Maybe she did sometimes, but recently her name and picture had been scattered through the headlines because she was opening a new office for her foundation that she founded, the Fireheart Foundation. There were already multiple locations throughout Terrasen targeting underprivileged youth, to enhance the art programs both in and out of school. Now she was doing it in Varese, her mother’s home city. 

Aelin didn’t need money. She didn’t need fame. It wasn’t about any of that, and he fucking blew it by being a coldhearted bastard.

“Thank you for the ride,” Rowan slurred to Lorcan, who was probably his best friend all things considered. Maybe he should tell him that. Of all the people in the world, Lorcan was usually easiest for Rowan to talk to. He seemed to understand him a little better than the others, even if they were all pretty close. Rowan decided then that if he ever got married, if he could fix this thing with Aelin, Lorcan would be his best man. Yes. That was an excellent decision. 

Rowan hauled himself out of Lorcan’s car, feet stumbling on the street. He barely caught himself from face-planting on the sidewalk, recovering by swinging himself around a street sign and throwing a mock salute toward Lorcan to indicate that he might have stumbled, but he was good. He didn’t need help. Rowan had this.

 His best friend looked at him drily, quirking an eyebrow as Rowan turned to walk to the door and–

Walked directly into the marble exterior of his apartment building. Double over, Rowan rubbed at his stinging face to ease the pain. A glance at his fingers told them there was no blood. Thank the gods he didn’t break his nose.

“For fucks sake,” Lorcan’s voice was suddenly a hiss in his ear, throwing Rowan’s limp arm around his shoulders.

“You’re really fast, y’know that? And tall. You’re gonna dislocate my shoulder,” He slurred, eyes focused on the ground so he could get one foot in front of the other. Lorcan told him to shut the fuck up and walk. Wisely, Rowan did. 

By the time Lorcan half-carried him up to his apartment and dropped him unceremoniously into bed, he was saying silent prayers to whatever god that would listen for him to be able to fix what he had so easily shattered.

~*~

“I know we’re anti-Rowan right now, but I want to know what my niece or nephew is going to look like.” Aelin gave her bestfriend flat look through the camera, but Lys merely shrugged her shoulders. The angle of her phone changed and Aelin knew she was on the hunt. Honestly, she should work for government security. The woman could find anything on anybody. “What’s his last name?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t ever find the right moment to tell him what mine were, and his just never came up. I never asked.” Aelin rolled onto her side in her bed, frowning at just how puffy her eyes were from crying the last several days. It was ridiculous. If he wanted to be a prick about it, fine. Aelin didn’t need him. It would have been nice, but… 

No. That thought was quickly tucked away elsewhere, somewhere at the back of her mind where it wouldn’t pick and poke at her sensitive emotions until she cried. 

“What did you say he does? A teacher?”

“Soccer coach in Doranelle. He doesn’t have social media as far as I’m aware. I’ve never seen the apps or anything on his phone.” Rowan didn’t give off social media vibes, either. It was hard to imagine him coming up with a witty caption for a vacation photo, or having the desire to post pictures of his life at all. 

“Rowan, Soccer, Doranelle. Lets see what that gives us,” Lys hummed, fingers flying furiously across the screen. From this point of view, Aelin had a great shot up her nose. If she wasn’t feeling so morose she would screenshot it and save it for a rainy day. “Oh my– Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

At her full name, Aelin propped herself up on an elbow, frowning down into her phone as she said, “What?” 

“Rowan Whitethorn. Google that and tell me if that’s him.”

“Why does Whitethorn sound familiar?” It both was and wasn’t a question for Lysandra. It was definitely tinkling a bell somewhere in her brain, the name. And as soon as she typed it in and pressed search, she understood why. “No fucking way.”

“That might be why he asked if you wanted money,” Lys said. Millions of search results came back. Photos, articles, interviews, the works. Thousands upon thousands of pictures loaded when she hit the images tab, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. 

Pictures of Rowan in a dark blue uniform with Doranelle’s logo across the chest, a number seven and his name across the back. Images of him from the side, his silver hair french braided with the rest pulled into a bun. There were pictures of him held on his teammates shoulders, of Rowan making a match-ending goal, Rowan squirting water into his mouth on the sidelines. 

“He’s got personal interest in the game, is all,” Connall had told her that first night. A vague memory of Rowan giving the bartender a flat look entered her mind briefly as she closed the tabs and looked back at her best friend’s face. 

“Why is the soccer world so incestuous?” Lys asked her, laughter in her voice.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed back, but there was no bite to it. Maybe it would be a little funny in a few days. There was no doubt in her mind that Aedion and her parents would find it absolutely hilarious. 

“The money thing makes sense now, though.”

“It does,” Aelin agreed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye. “But I thought what we had was different. Regardless… even if I had known about all of this I wouldn’t have thought he would react that way.”

“Maybe it’s happened before. Maybe you need to hear him out and let him explain.” 

She did and she knew it. The shift in his behavior happened so suddenly, had blindsided her entirely. It had to mean there was a reason for him to snap like that. It still pained her heart and soul, though. Even if he had the best reason in the world, it didn’t take away the betrayal and hurt she had felt. 

At the same time, she felt silly for feeling so upset. They barely knew each other. Of course he would be cautious of her motivations. It made sense. If it had been going on for longer, would his reaction have been more mild? Would it have been sweet kisses and promises that things would be okay? Did Rowan even want kids? Probably not, given the status he currently held in the soccer world. The man showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. A baby would just complicate that. 

“That baby is going to be the most beautiful fucking thing.” Lys may have been mostly talking to herself, but Aelin found her lips tipping up at the corners because it was true. It would be. 

Almost against her own will, her fingers pulled up Rowan’s text thread. He sent dozens of messages throughout the week. Most of them were begging for a conversation, asking if he could call her. Some of them from last night made no sense whatsoever, words strung together in a way that made her believe he was drunk. There were six in a row from last night in the old language. If she had been able to read around the typos, maybe she could figure out what they said. The spelling was so badly butchered, though, that some were different words altogether. Complete gibberish, utter word salad. 

Then there was the single one he sent her today that simply read: I’m sorry. For all of it.

There had been other apologies that requested the chance for him to explain, but none of them felt quite as barren and hopeless as this one did. Almost like he was ready to throw in the towel if she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Though she was angry, it didn’t sit well with her. Maybe she felt a flicker of anger in her chest because he hadn’t been willing to fight for her for more than a few days, or maybe it was because she was frustrated he would stop because he believed it was what she wanted. Either way, she didn’t like it. 

It was then that she decided she would give herself a few more days. A few days to process the pregnancy, his reaction, her counter-reaction, all of it. And then maybe… maybe she would be ready to talk. 

[violetsaffron5]

12 Days of Christmas (2022)

| Masterlist | Ao3 | Social Media | Discord 18+ | Chapter 6 |

5 | Five Golden Rings

Pairing: Hiromi Higuruma x f!Reader

Prompt: Two co-workers and friends have the tradition to be each other’s plus ones for the Christmas office party.

Words: 1k

Warnings: restraints, vaginal sex, mating press, choking, creampie, semi-public sex

“Fuck, Hiromi, right there,” you moan sprawled out on the glass conference room table, tits bouncing beautifully in time with each of his thrusts.

Your hands are bound above your head; he used his belt to wrap around your wrists, buckling it to the leg of the table. Hiromi’s hands are on your waist, gripping hard, holding you close to him as his hips piston into your own.

The last few years, the two of you have gotten close, become office friends. You would go out and get lunch together when you had time, and when you didn’t, one of you would be in the other's office eating while working.

Since then, you’ve also become each other’s date to the office Christmas parties. It’s not for having a lack of a dating life, you both just seem to conveniently be single around the holidays every time, and why not go with someone you know you enjoy spending time with?

Sure, at first people in the office would tease you for coming together, especially Suguru and Satoru, but it was all in jest, never truly bothered either of you.

You also never saw each other as more than friends either, so it’s a fucking surprise you’re here, writhing underneath him in pleasure as he snaps his hips into yours.

Maybe your heart has grown more fond of him over the last few years without realizing it because when you saw him walk into your apartment, dressed in his suit for tonight's event, your heart began to flutter.

Hiromi looked absolutely dashing in his black tux with white shirt underneath, his raven hair styled just perfectly, a smile on his face that reached his tired eyes. He thought the same - you never looked more beautiful than you do tonight, in your floor length black dress that hugs your curves just right, a slit on the side that goes up just above your knee.

That dress is currently pooled around your waist, the top having been pulled down to expose your breasts, the bottom lifted so he could fuck you on the table of the empty conference room. His shirt has been unbuttoned and opened, exposing the black hair on his chest that you were running your hands through earlier in the evening.

There was just something about the way his eyes seemed less tired tonight, sparkled more than usual in the Christmas lights strung up around the office, his smile was wider too, as he had his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close while making your usual networking rounds around the office talking with the other associates.

You passed by a few empty rooms, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, or yours were on his, you’re not entirely sure who made the first move.

Hiromi moves one hand to your throat, wrapping his large hand around, cutting off just enough air for your eyes to be rolling to the back of your head, back arching off the table when his thumb begins encircling your clit.

The room you're in is tucked away, off in a little corner of the office far away from the party, so neither of you are worried about getting walked in on. And not worrying about that means neither of you has to worry about how loud you’re being either.

He slows his pace, circling his hips as he looks at you fondly, letting go of your throat to caress your cheek, “you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought of this. How long I’ve wanted this.” His voice is thick and gravely with lust.

Hiromi lifts your legs, bends them so your knees are next to your face - if he hadn’t lifted your dress so far up, it surely would have ripped while moving you into this mating press position. His hands are on the bottom of your black stilettos, using them for balance as he picks back up at a faster pace.

On any normal night, you might have been embarrassed by how wet you’ve gotten just from his touch, but it doesn’t feel that way with him, not when you see how much he loves watching your arousal coat his cock each time he pulls out before thrusting right back in.

He’s listening to the way you’re moaning his name, singing it for the heavens to hear. The way you move your hips to meet him despite your compromising position. Watching the way your cheeks flush every time he says you’re doing so well for him, the flush extending down to the top of your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he mutters, he can’t help himself. He has to tell you.

So gorgeous in fact, he can’t believe he isn't using every opportunity presented to him right now to just kiss you. He moves your legs over his shoulders, bending down to fold you half, slotting his lips between yours.

He swallows several of your moans as your tongues glide against one another, biting your bottom lip as your walls tighten around him, and you’re free falling into waves of pleasure, chanting his name so seductively as your walls flutter and spasm that he’s unable to hold back any longer.

Hiromi sloppily thrusts, two, three more times, before he’s buried to the hilt, as deep as he can go, groaning onto each of your kisses as hot ropes of cum fill your insides.

He gives a goofy grin, eyes half lidded as he moves his hips in you a few times, moaning from the sensitivity before unbuckling your wrists.

“Sorry for being so rough,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw tenderly before moving down your neck, between the valley of your breasts.

“Mm. Don’t be.” You’re smiling, eyes closed. He hasn’t pulled out yet, but you don’t mind, using the time to catch your breath.

Your heart flutters again, when he looks up at you with tired eyes, soft smile on his face, chaste kiss to your lips, and you hope he’ll continue to be your Christmas office party date for years to come.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @arisucat @watyousayin @khadeejarh

[fyonahmacnally]

I Wish it Was Me...

She sighs, leaning against the balcony railing and staring blankly into the deep midnight sky as she swirls the rich amber liquid in her crystal tumbler. Her eyes have been scanning the horizon for an unknown amount of time, replaying the evening in her mind. 

A part of her feels guilty for leaving so abruptly, but she couldn’t sit there and watch her smile and laugh at him any longer. She knew they were friends, but she didn’t realize they were that close. Intellectually, she knows she shouldn’t feel this way, but tell that to her heart. Plus, why him? Sure, William is an okay guy, but he’s just…boring. She shakes her head, blowing out a huff of frustration as she swallows the remains of the numbing elixir. The last dregs of her second glass of scotch go down more smoothly than the first. 

Releasing yet another defeated sigh, she tries to massage the brewing headache from her temples. She purposely didn’t drink at the bar because she planned on bringing Kara back to hers tonight, planning to finally tell the blonde how she feels. Her eyes close and the scene from the bar rudely reminds her of her place in Kara’s life. Again. Not that she isn’t acutely aware of living in the friend-zone for years. She just wishes her heart would get the memo. Her traitorous brain wanders again.

Meeting her friends at the bar has become a common occurrence for Lena. It’s an almost weekly affair, every Friday they meet up at Al’s for happy hour, dancing, pool, and catching up on the happenings of all their lives outside their superhero antics. Recently, these nights have ended with Lena snuggled in Kara’s arms at either of their apartments. They usually end up going to brunch the next morning and spending most of their weekends together. While she realizes she should put an end to it before she obliterates her own heart, she’s not known for her self-preservation. So, she just continues to be gluttonous for the punishment she knows is coming. Maybe the punishment just arrived in the form of one William Dey. 

The scene keeps playing over and over. Torturing her barely beating heart.

As she walks into the familiar bar, she’s greeted with a series of hellos and waves, but the one that nearly stops her in her tracks is the wide, toothy, cock-eyed smile from her best friend. She thought after 6 years of near daily doses of that smile that it wouldn’t steal her breath and release an entire zoo of butterflies in her stomach. Nonetheless, here she stands, still suffering from both. She feels the heat rush to her cheeks and desperately hopes the dimness of the bar hides it well. Her steps falter when she sees William parked in her chair next to Kara. A sick feeling settles into the pit of her stomach. Attempting to keep her composure, she takes the empty seat next to Nia and across the table from the blonde. When she makes eye contact with Alex, it becomes clear that she didn’t cover her reaction as well as she’d hoped, the telling smirk on the elder Danvers face all the evidence she needs. She rolls her eyes at the redhead and lets her eyes settle on Kara again, barely containing the scowl begging to display itself on her face. 

Everyone quickly falls into their usual conversations, Lena does her best to keep her eyes trained on whomever she’s talking to, but every time Kara laughs or giggles at something William says it pulls her attention away. Each time her eyes fall on the two of them, her chest tightens, her stomach ties itself further into knots, and a lump works its way into her throat. Eventually, Nia drags her onto the dance floor, obviously attempting to distract her from her pathetic pining and barely contained jealousy. 

“You should just tell her, you know.” Nia states bluntly, an affectionate smile gracing her lips. “I promise you, Lena, she doesn’t want him.” They both glance over to the table where the two people in question are throwing their heads back in laughter.

Lena scoffs, her nose scrunching and lip lifting in a scowl of disbelief and disgust. “Really? Tell that to both of their faces and body language, Nia.” She rolls her eyes and turns her back to the table, unable to bear watching them any longer. “Besides, why the hell would I tell her now? She’s obviously either dating him or will be soon. I can’t risk our friendship now.”

Nia rolls her eyes, these two idiots are more oblivious than she initially thought. For a couple of geniuses, these two are dumb. “She feels the same way, Lena. I’m guessing she’s more afraid than you are after your last falling out.” She watches as Kara’s eyes flit over to them, a crinkle of concern adorning her face and her head tilting like she’s listening to something. She rolls her eyes again as she wonders if these two will ever figure their shit out. “She keeps looking over here at you. My guess is she can hear your heart rate spike.”

Lena’s heart sinks, she still forgets that Kara can hear her heartbeat and it makes her feel even more anxious than before. She realizes at that moment that she needs to leave, there’s no way she can spend the rest of the night watching the two of them together. In her panic, she manages to ramble out, “I can’t do this. I need to go, Nia. Tell everyone I said good night.”

Without waiting for a response, she bolts for the door, putting as much distance between William, his distractingly white teeth, and his annoying accent as possible. 

Shaking away the thoughts in an attempt to erase her evening, she heads back inside to refill her glass. She tops it off and makes her way back out into the breezy evening, retaking her place against the railing. It’s clear to her now that she is going to have to find a way to move on from the blonde. It figures that when she finally gets the guts to confess her love for her best friend, she starts dating someone else. She sighs, again. It’s her own fault, really. As confident as she is in many aspects of her professional life, when it comes to anything personal, she’s a fucking coward. Now she’s going to live the rest of her life regretting being such a goddamn scaredy cat. She growls as she knocks back her third glass of scotch for the evening, starting to feel the effects swimming through her veins.

Just as she is about to make her way back inside for the night, the sound of a familiar voice calling her name startles her so harshly that her fingers release the tumbler. All she can do is watch it make its descent toward the cement. The anticipated shattering of glass never happens though. Kara’s deft reflexes capture the highball before impact and sets it on the glass top table sitting next to the open balcony door. 

“I’m sorry, Lena. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Kara says with a crinkle between her eyes. She pauses to look at the raven haired woman standing close to the door, her hand resting over her heart and a wide-eyed, dazed look on her face. “You left the bar so quickly and without saying goodbye. Then you didn’t respond to my texts. I was worried. Are you okay?”

The injection of adrenaline coupled with the three glasses of scotch give Lena a sudden surge of confidence. “I’m fine, Kara. You seemed to be enjoying your time with William so I didn’t want to interrupt just to tell you I was leaving.” She grabs the glass off the table and stalks back into the penthouse without saying another word, fully expecting the blonde to follow. 

And she does, Kara follows closely behind her, stopping on the other side of the island as Lena washes and dries the highball, placing it back in its place. Leaning against the counter across from her best friend, she raises her signature brow in question, making Kara shift nervously. Her shifting movement secretly makes Lena giddy, even if she won’t admit it.

“A-are y-you sure you’re o-okay?” She stutters, unsure what to make of Lena’s demeanor, her sudden aloofness. “We always spend Friday night together and have brunch on Saturday. Y-you left without me.” She pouts, trying her best to stay put instead of running to Lena’s side. 

“As cozy and close as you two were, I figured you’d spend the evening with William. Have brunch with him instead.” Lena scoffs. She shifts her eyes down to her nails, picking at a non-existent hangnail. “I didn’t realize you had become so…close. Also thought you would have told me that you were dating him. Best friend privileges and all.” Waving her hand as nonchalantly as she can, a deep frown settles onto her face, no longer able to contain the sadness.  

“Lena…wh-what are you talking about?” A look of bewilderment and utter confusion sits on her face as blue eyes scan glassy green. “W-William and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends. W-why would you think we’re dating?” Her face scrunches and her head tilts, cerulean eyes still focused on her favorite green.

Lena blows out a raspberry of frustration, unsure how to put her current emotions into words. “Kara, anyone that was around you or saw you tonight would have assumed the same thing. The smiles, the laughter…the touching.” She scowls again as she barely whispers, “He was sitting in my seat.” Barely able to hold back the tears stinging her eyes, she pushes herself off the counter and heads toward her bedroom. Not only needing distance, but to change into her pajamas. 

Kara follows her into the walk-in closet, uncertain where the conversation is going and why Lena is so upset, but definitely determined to figure it out. “I’m sorry, Lena. I-I, um, planned on shooing him out of your seat. I even told him he would have to move when you got there. Then you sat next to Nia and seemed like you were having fun so I figured you were okay with it.” She nervously rubs her hand along the back of her neck, biting her lip in worry.

She dips her head, sighing as her hands reach out for Lena only to drop back to her side, unsure of whether it’s okay to touch the skittish woman in front of her. Still, she takes a few steps closer before softly speaking. “Um, I missed having you next to me. I like being close to you. When you went to dance, I kept hearing your heart rate spike, but I looked back over again and you were gone.” She pleads with her favorite person, eyes boring into raven locks. “Please talk to me, Lena.”  

Lena pauses, her hands fidget with the joggers and t-shirt she pulled out of her drawer while she attempts to gather her swirling emotions. Her head and shoulders slump forward and she releases a quiet sniffle, the tears that were stinging her eyes slowly begin to fall. Trying to channel the remaining adrenaline in her system, she takes a shaky breath and turns to face the woman she has been in love with for years. “You don’t get it?!” She pushes the drawer closed and angrily stalks out of the closet toward the ensuite, leaving a startled and fish-mouthed blonde in her wake. 

Tripping over her feet to catch up, Kara stumbles into the bathroom to an eyeful of her half-undressed best friend. Her eyes immediately dart to the ceiling and her cheeks turn a rosy, heated shade of pink. “I d-don’t understand, Lena. Did I do something wrong?” Her head tilts like a confused puppy as her eyes migrate back down to a still partially dressed Lena. Blue eyes freeze on the sheer expanse of exposed ivory skin as her mouth runs dry and she swallows audibly. “I, um, want to, uh…” Her words trail off as her eyes roam, mentally caressing every full curve and every ounce of exposed soft skin. 

Some of Lena’s ire simmers when she catches Kara essentially ogling her nearly naked torso. She’s still frustrated and the tears are still flowing, but the way those darkened blue eyes are combing over her body ignites something decidedly different. She shakes her head, needing to get herself together for the conversation that is coming. She turns away from the blonde’s roving eyes to drop her bra and pull the t-shirt over her head. 

Crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, she levels fiery green eyes at Kara. “You want to… what, Kara?” A perfectly sculpted dark brow raises, a silent question that causes the blonde to gulp. “You stopped in the middle of your sentence to ogle me. Are you going to finish what you were saying?”

“I was – I di –” She blows out an exasperated breath, realizing she has no excuse. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. I was going to say I want to fix whatever it is, but maybe I should just go. I’ve obviously upset you and made you uncomfortable.” She blinks owlishly, trying hard to prevent the welling tears from falling. 

Lena starts to panic. She doesn’t want Kara to leave, that’s the last thing she wants. “No, please. Don’t leave.” She blurts out, reaching for the blonde’s muscular forearm, stopping her movement. “C-can we just get ready for bed and then talk? Please.”

Kara nods her head and heads out of the bathroom to grab the pajamas she keeps at the apartment. Once they’re both changed, their teeth brushed, and faces washed, they stand in front of Lena’s bed in awkward silence. Normally they would crawl under the covers together and curl into each other with a movie or documentary playing in the background. Right now, neither of them know how to broach the ginormous elephant hanging out in the corner. 

Finally, Lena sighs and drags them both into the bed, crawling up toward the headboard. They both sit with their backs leaning back against the frame, pillows propped behind them. She twists her fingers together, a long held habit that still surfaces when she’s anxious. “I’m not used to having to share you with anyone else.” Lena says, barely audible, but she knows Kara hears her. “When I saw William in my seat and…saw him touching you, I just – I was jealous.” Her voice tapers off on the last word and her cheeks heat, flushing a deep red at her admittance. 

Kara’s eyes go wide. She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. Lena is jealous? Of William? Why would she be jealous? Wait…her head whips to the side to look at her best friend. She can’t help but grin at the blush adorning pale skin. She does her best to stifle it, but to no avail. “You’re jealous of William? Lena, he and I are just friends.” She reaches out to stop the twisting and fidgeting of Lena’s hands, placing her palm over them. “This feels like more than that. Do you want to tell me what’s really going on? Please.“

“Tonight was supposed to be special. I-I wanted to tell you something important.” Her eyes sting with tears again, she pulls her hands away from Kara’s wiping tears away in frustration. “When I saw you with him, it, well, it upset me because... because I wish it was me.” She sighs, her hands twisting nervously again. 

The room gets eerily quiet, nothing can be heard but Lena’s rapidly increasing breaths. She waits for what feels like hours, likely only seconds, before she looks up to see teary blue eyes staring back at her. She immediately panics, thinking that she has ruined their friendship. Her tears start falling and she starts getting up. Maybe she'll pack up and move to the U.K. 

Just as she begins pushing herself off the bed, Kara’s hands pull her back. She still keeps her eyes glued to her own hands, desperately avoiding the blues of the woman she just confessed to loving. She wants to avoid seeing the rejection she’s sure is coming. 

Warm fingers settle under her chin, gently lifting until teary azure meets watery green. Instead of the rejection she anticipated, she sees soft affection. They smile, tears streaming down both their cheeks. 

“You thought I was dating William and you wished it was you?” Kara asks, her voice laced with hope. “You, you would want that? To be with me like that?” Hopeful, watery blue eyes stare into anxious, yet hopeful green.

“Yeah. Y-Yes.” Lena nods in confirmation, a look of determination firmly on her face. “Of course, I want to be with you. Why wouldn’t I? Darling, of course I wish it was me.” She lets out a wet laugh, unsure how her night started so horribly and has ended like this.

Kara leans forward, pressing their foreheads together as her own wet laugh escapes. “I wish it was you, too.” Her hands lightly rest on Lena’s tear-stained cheeks, brushing away the fresh ones as they fall. “I’ve wanted it for so long, but didn’t want to risk losing you.”

“You wouldn’t lose me, Kara. No matter what happens, you won't lose me. Not again.” She takes a shaky breath, her hands wrapping around the blonde’s wrists. “I planned to tell you tonight when we got back here, it’s why I didn’t drink at the bar. I wanted you to know it wasn’t influenced by anything else.” She leans back, green eyes bouncing between the blue galaxies staring back. 

“What does this mean, Lena? Are you saying…” Kara swallows the nervousness crawling up her throat. “Do you – what are you saying?” She runs her thumbs across the soft skin underneath Lena’s eyes, never taking her eyes off her best friend's face. 

Lena smiles, leaning into the touch, briefly closing her eyes to take in the moment. She opens her eyes again to stare directly into Kara’s, wanting to make sure the blonde knows how serious her next words are. “I am saying that I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m pretty sure I have been since the day we met.” She breathes out, her head swimming from how close they are, how close their mouths are. Her eyes glance down to pouty pink lips and back before she finishes speaking. “I’m saying that I want to be the one you miss, I want to be the last face you think of when you fall asleep. I want to be yours.”

A soft gasp escapes Kara’s lips, her eyes glittering with fresh tears, and her face breaking into a wide smile as she whispers, “Lena… I love you, too. So much. I want all of those things.” She sniffles, carefully rubbing their noses together, so close that their lips graze causing them both to gasp. She whispers against the soft skin of Lena’s lips, “I’m already yours. My heart has always been yours, I just didn’t really know it until I lost you.”

With the last word, their lips brush again and Lena surges forward, pressing them together fully. The first press is chaste and firm. The second is yearning and desperate, fueled by all the years of self-imposed resistance. By the time they break apart for air, Lena is straddling Kara’s lap with her hands buried in golden locks. Kara’s hands are underneath the back of Lena’s shirt, wide palms pressed firmly into the warm skin of her back. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for years. It’s sooo much better than anything my imagination came up with.” Lena grins against Kara’s slightly parted lips. “There are a lot of other things I’m willing to bet are way better as well.” She smirks and leans forward, pressing another kiss to the blonde’s lips. 

An adorable grin spreads across Kara’s face. “I think we should explore all those things, don't you?” She pulls Lena closer, kissing the underside of her jaw and down the column of her neck. “We have the whole weekend, after all.”

Lena tilts her head to the side, giving Kara more access to her neck. She’s getting lost in the sensation when Kara stops and giggles. Lena leans back, glaring at the woman beneath her. “What is so damn funny? It better be good since you stopped making out with me.” She raises an eyebrow at the blonde, causing her to clear her throat and stop laughing.

“I was just thinking about the bar earlier. Thinking about how if you had stayed, you would have known William and I weren’t dating.” She smiles and places a sweet kiss on the tip of Lena’s nose. A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “He and I spent most of the night talking about work. And you know, his new girlfriend.” She smiles as Lena’s eyes widen and her mouth gapes. 

Kara laughs much harder, barely contained.

“You better be glad I love you.” Lena sighs and shoves the blonde down onto her back. It only takes a few seconds to quiet that smug laughter as it is quickly replaced with soft moans. 

Lena smirks, that's more like it.

They spend the rest of the night getting to know each other in a whole new way.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Ruthless (Zosan X Reader) P7

Plot: Beast off the walking dead series. After the governor attacks your people you head back to help plan an attack back. Luffy's not happy with being left out so ends up following only to end up at the governors town.

Warning: Violence, bad language and medical stuff.

Reader is a gunslinger of the crew and the younger sibling to Rick. This isn't accurate to the show but it does contain characters and plot lines, deaths have been added that aren't apart of the show. Zoro X Sanji X Reader, poly relationship, Established relationship, Reader is GN.

P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 -P8 - P9 - P10 - P11

Day 5

Nothing changed that day, their routine was normal and people came and went, Brook stopped by and told you about a show he was going to do with Beth tomorrow night and that he hoped you could be awake to see it. During the night Chopper came in to check on them all, Rick was the only one awake or at least trying to stay awake, he started spending more time with Carl and his daughter which tired him out. Your brother smiles at the reindeer before a look of shock covers his face, Hershel walks in behind the doctor on two crutches now being able to walk thanks to the antibiotics you brought when you first arrived. "Hershel" Rick laughs getting up and hugging the man waking Zoro and Sanji who where asleep in their normal positions. Upon seeing Chopper Sanji got up and sat on the metal chair so the doctor could jump up and do his job. Rick pulls away from Hershel and brings over his seat for the now one legged man to sit down on "I can't believe your up" Rick sighs helping the old man sit down, his white beard and hair have grown longer with all the time spent in bed. "I thought its about time i get my ass up and do some work" The old man laughed before turning his attention to Sanji and Zoro "I'll be helping Chopper look after Y/n, Take some weight off his shoulder" Chopper checks over your bandages before turning to Hershel "I'm glad for the help but i can take care of things" The doctor smiles turning back to you and checking your pulse "You need rest young man"

The old man sighs leaning back in his chair "And as for you three, i think its time we set up something more comfy, your stubborn" He turns to face Rick who crosses his arms over his chest "So i know you won't get up and leave for a night when you can be here so, we'll set something up, sleeping on the floor or on these chairs aren't good for you all" He was worried they would get overly tired or sore, and then he would have more people to take care off, plus he knew he would get an ear full form you if he let that happen. "Thank you" Sanji speaks up getting the old man's attention who nods at him. Zoro stands from the floor and walks up next to Sanji looking at Chopper "How are they?" He asks wanting to know what his doctor has to say now he's done. Chopper pulls the sheet back over you and takes his gloves off "Their good but if they don't wake up by tomorrow then i'm going to put a feeding tub down" Chopper sighs turning to the group with a small smile "But there is some good news if their breathing stays like this we can take the oxygen mask off" Zoro lets a smile form and squeezes Sanji's shoulder who reaches up and takes the swordsman's hand.

Day 6

You didn't wake up but Chopper and Hershel waited till the afternoon just in case. Rick watched over you and told you all about the baby girl and Carl, he even told you how the new farm was going along. When Zoro took over the two had quite a long chat about things, it seems this situation as bonded them a little, seeming to talk to each other more often and give a nod to each other every time they see each other outside the medical ward. Zoro sat on the bed holding your hand until Chopper and Hershel came in with a bunch of equipment but when Zoro didn't move Hershel placed a hand on the swordsman's shoulder " You should go and grab a drink of tea while we do this" The old man smiles only for Zoro to shake his head "No, i'm not leaving them" The green haired man's eyes never left your form but the old man sat down in the chair close to the bed and placed his hand onto Zoro's, getting him to look up finally "I understand your worried son but it's best if you go. We'll take care of them" He wanted to say more but didn't. Its very simple and easy when someone is unconscious and thats the problem, you expect someone to fight back a little at the uncomfortable feeling of a tub going through your nose and down your treat, but they don't and that can really upset people. "Please, Zoro" Chopper smiles getting the swordsman to sigh and stand up "Fine, how long?" Zoro groans slowly letting go of your hand "20 minutes" Hershel voices before Chopper can.

Once Zoro had left Chopper looks at the old man confused "I'll only take us two" The doctor whispers wondering why the man would lie "I know, but he needs a brake, plus it'll give the others time to set up the room without anyone in the way" Hershel smiles moving to sit on the bed, so he can assist Chopper. With the oxygen mask now off and a tub in your nose taped to your cheek they set up a bag to help feed you, Chopper stays on the bed with you while Maggie and Glen come in to help set up the room. They place a mattress on the floor at the end of the bed and cover it in sheets along with two pillows. The chairs are moved out and replaced with two wooden chairs along with a cushion on each. Zoro came back early to see Maggie and Glen coming out pushing the sheet aside "What's wrong?" His first instinct was that something happened to you but his fear faded when Maggie smiled at him "Nothing wrong, they just set up the room, made it more comfy" Hershel hobbles over with his crutches getting his daughter to turn and help him "Come on dad lets go" She whispers before walking with her dad out of the medical ward. Glen sighs and watches the two walk way "If you need anything just ask" The young man nods patting the swordsman on the shoulder before leaving.

The room was much more comfy now and felt a lot warmer, Zoro still opted to sit on the bed with you but used one of the blankets to keep himself warm until Sanji came in. "Wow, when did this happen?" The cook asks getting the swordsman's attention, Sanji looks around the room before looking down at you seeing you breathe without a mask. The cook can't help but smiles and lean down placing a soft kiss on the side of your parted lips. "Glen and Maggie did this" Zoro smiles a little happy to see the cook look less sad, he stands up and wraps the blanket he had on around the blondes shoulders "At least now we can get a good nights sleep" Zoro laughs pulling Sanji in for a hug who happily hugs back placing his head on the green haired man's shoulder. The mattress on the floor caught his eye, he liked being close to you but would often almost fall off or have a fear of leaning on you and hurting you in his sleep. Sanji pulls away and places a hand on Zoro's cheek before leaning in and kissing the man "I love you" Zoro lets out after the kiss before going back in for more, Sanji smiles and leans into it "I love you too moss head" The blonde teases only for Zoro to grab the cooks waist and squeeze a little, Sanji laughs and try's to pull away only for Zoro to pull him closer and start tickling the man. Its very rare for him to do this but the cook asked for it, and they both needed a moment of happiness "S-stop, I-Im so-sorry" Sanji calls out being pinned up against the wall as the swordsman stops.

The cook pants catching his breath while still being tense in case Zoro decides to start up again "Behave" The swordsman laughs placing his lips on Sanji's before walking over to you and placing a kiss on your cheek "You too" he jokes before moving some hair out of your face. After Zoro left Sanji sat in the new wooden chair holding your hand, he didn't have much to tell you so he opted to start reading the book that Robin brought a few days ago, It was some kind of poetry book she found in woodbury. He stopped reading when Rick comes in earlier than normal followed by Hershel "Hay, the show's going to start soon, thought you might want to come" Rick smiles seeing the room and you looking a lot better "No it's ok. I'll stay" Sanji smiles back looking down at the book in his hands "I'll watch over her son" Hershel hobbles in sitting on the other wooden chair and placing a hand on the cooks shoulder "Your captain dragged your boy away to join and i think it would be good if you go too" Sanji places a book mark in the book before closing it and turning to the old man then to Rick "Carl said i have to go but i just wanted to see them before i go" Your brother smiles placing a hand on your head "They look a lot better and Hershel's a good doctor, they'll be fine" Rick turns to Sanji before opening the sheet as the cook stands and places the book on the side table. "I'll be back later mi amore" He whispers placing a kiss on your cheek before leaving with Rick.

Hershel stayed with you for a few hours, the room silent since he wasn't much of a talker. Zoro and Sanji spent some much-needed time together along with the crew, they got to know your family a lot more too. Michonne had been working a lot with Zoro and training with him, but they didn't talk much outside of that until tonight, maybe it was the alcohol or the fresh vibe that got them talking to each other about the past but either way they got to know each other a lot more and had more respect for each other. Sanji liked talking with Maggie a lot, she was a sweet girl and took an interest in cooking even attending two of his lessons and being very good at it. He wasn't surprised when he found out she was in a relationship with Glen, he could see the way they looked at each other and was happy for them, but he was surprised how much him and Glen got on. The two didn't talk much but that night they did and found they had a lot of the same ideals and opinions. Rick spent time with Carl and his daughter and managed to finally chose a name for her, Carl was the one who suggested it and it just felt right. Sanji managed to get Zoro to dance with him during a slow song and took the moment to feel a sense of calm. It was a good night with lots of food, drinks and light music.

Day 7

After last night not many people wanted to do much, the booze from the sunny and what they took form woodbury plus the massive amount of food and late night made everyone want to crawl back into bed. Rick slept in one of the spare rooms in the medical ward after Michonne had to drag his drunk ass to bed while Sanji and Zoro slept on the mattress in your medical cell. Zoro flat out on his back snoring away while Sanji lay on top of him, the blankets all over the place, Chopper woke them up when he came in to put stuff in the food bag and was unsurprised how the two didn't have a hang over. Rick did have a small hangover but after a good sleep in and some coffee he felt much better and managed to get out of bed and sit in the chair in your medical cell "Party'd to hard i see" Maggie laughs walking in with Glen carrying plates of food "Oh i'm so sorry miss Maggie" Sanji stands from where he was sitting on the mattress, he didn't realize what time it was and missed making breakfast "Its fine don't worry, we can handle it for one day." she smiles making him sit back down and handing him a plate of food.

Glen hands a plate to Rick and then one to Zoro "We all got together and thought it would be good to practice the skills you've been teaching us and give you all the day off" The young man smiles going back to stand next to Maggie who puts down another vase of flowers which just so happen to be your favorite flowers. Zoro cracks a smile and swallows the food in his mouth "Where did you get them from?" The swordsman asks pointing his fork at the flowers, Maggie adjusts them a little before turning to the green haired man and then looking at Rick "well a local group came round to thank us for getting rid of the governor and gave us a bunch of stuff" Rick's eyes widen but Glen's quick to place his hand on the man's shoulder "It's ok, It's the group that lives in the mill" A sigh of relief leaves your brother mouth, that place is mostly full of farmers, and they've never caused a problem. "They gave us seeds and flowers plus some scrap metal we can use" Maggie smiles taking the finished plates off the three "Me, Glen, Michonne and Daryl have everything under control, plus the people we saved from woodbury have been helping clear out new areas thank to Andrea's leadership" The girl smile bring calm to the group "How is Andrea, i haven't seen or heard form her since we got back" Sanji asks earning a sigh form Glen who leans against the wall, he gives Maggie a nod letting her know he'll explain while she goes to do work.

The three watch the young man as he starts to explain "She's physically ok but mentally not so much, living with the governor this whole time has done some damage, and she told me that she feels like a failure for not stopping the governors plan. Apparently he's planned stuff like this in the past, but she managed to stop it or find a way to make it harder than it needed to be, so he'd back down. This time she wasn't in the loop so had no idea. She's doing what she can to make up for it, to make it up to Y/N and you Rick" Glen looks up form the floor to their leader who looks a little angry but mostly sad "Is that why she left?" Rick asks clenching his fists on his lap. "Yea, When everyone got sick she tried to convince the governor to help since he had the best doctors and medical equipment, he told her that if she joined his group and didn't tell them why then he would. She was shocked when i told her that we never got any help after she left, she was told they did send stuff but it didn't do any good" Glen looks over at you remembering how everyone yelled at her for leaving and not giving them a reason why yet you didn't, you hugged her and wished her well despite everyone being mad at you after words. "I remember Andrea saying they were close so i thought she would at least come and see Y/N but..." Sanji sighs looking down at you "I don't know, every time i ask her to come with us she refuses" Glen shrugs before pushing off the wall "I'll see you guys later, give you some piece before your bombarded again" Glen laughs before leaving.

During the afternoon people came and went, Nami and Robin came back to check on things along with Michonne and Daryl but there were a bunch of people that Zoro and Sanji didn't know. As the day was ending Sanji slept sat with his back to the wall on the mattress while Zoro was snoring in his lap, his face on the cooks stomach using it as a pillow. Rick sat on the bed holding your hand, you felt a lot warmer which was a good sign, but he was still worried. Some noise outside caught his attention and woke Zoro and Sanji up their heads turning to see the sheet move, "Carl?" Rick whispers standing up to stop his son form coming in only for Beth to step into view with the baby girl in her arms. "What are you doing here?" Your brother asks looking over the three kids "It's been a week, we want to see Y/N" Carl looks up at his dad pushing the sheriffs hat that Rick used to wear back, so he could see better. "Please" Beth's voice begged the man. Zoro got up and stretched before helping Sanji stand "Come on Rick, let them in" Sanji walks over placing a hand on your brothers shoulder, Rick thinks for a minute before stepping back and pulling up the chairs for the kids to it in.

Beth hands the baby off to Rick before sitting down with Carl "They don't look too bad" Carl smiles taking your hand making his dad laugh at the comment as he holds his baby girl. Zoro and Sanji have spent a lot of time with Carl, the boy wanted to help out so during the afternoon he likes to join Sanji's lessons and stays behind to help clean up, he likes to talk to the cook when he's having a smoke break outside since he's mostly alone then, but he also wants to help outside too. He helped take care of the walks by the fence at night but there have been less and less of them lately, so he's taken to helping Zoro take watch, its more of an excuse to get to know one of the man who's dating his auntie/uncle. He looks up to Zoro a lot since he's strong but also doesn't sugar coat anything not even to a kid. As for the baby the two boys only got a good look at her last night, Sanji thinks she's adorable while Zoro acts like he doesn't care but deep down he does thinks she's a cute baby.

Beth reaches over and places a hand on your head running it through your slightly matted hair, she sighs and takes out a brush from one of her pockets and sits on the bed next to your head starting to brush through your hair gently while humming. "They really do look a lot better than you decided" Carl points out looking at the three, Zoro told him more about your condition than his dad did, but he didn't want to call the swordsman out in front of him so the boy mainly looked at his dad who leans against the wall. "They do look batter but i was hoping you would wait a while longer" Rick scolds a little, but he can understand the need to see you, everyone else has, he just didn't want the kids being scared of all the iv's and bandages. Beth finishes brushing through your hair and places the brush down on the table "You should brush their hair daily so it doesn't get matted again" she looks up at the three with a stern look, for a 16-year old she acts more like a mother than a teen but then again she had grown up very fast in this world. Zoro lets out a laugh getting a glare from the blonde haired girl, he clears his throat and looks away "Sorry" he whispers trying to hold in his laughter. She doesn't scare him, but she reminds him of you and how you look at him when your mad. "Yes miss" Sanji slightly bows getting the girl to smile. "That's enough scolding us, lets go I'll take you guys to bed" Rick steps away from the wall walking over to the kids.

"Can we stay here tonight please?" Carl begs looking at his dad as Beth joins him "No- n-no" Rick stutters watching both kids start to give him their best puppy dog eyes, it's working too well, so he grits his teeth and looks away. Sanji grabs two blankets and walks over to the kids "I see no problem in it" The cook smiles putting a blanket around Carl and the other around Beth, your brother sighs giving in as he watches Carl take his hat off and lay it on the end of the bed "I'll take first watch" The young boy smiles leaning back in his chair while Beth takes your hand and lays her head down on the bed while sitting in the chair. "Take the mattress" Zoro walks over to Rick patting his shoulder, with the baby in his arms Rick sits down on the mattress and makes a little blanket circle around his baby, so she can't roll off the mattress before he lays down next to her and covers himself over. Sanji turns off the big light in the room only a lantern in on the side table lighting the small room before sitting down on the floor with Zoro. The two share a kiss before they snuggle up to each others side, Sanji lays his head on the swordsman's shoulder as Zoro pulls a blanket over their laps and places a kiss on the cooks head "Night" They whisper to each other before letting sleep over take them.

[georgiaswarr]

read an excerpt of my unfinished jadeellis fic

i started writing this over a year ago and kind of abandoned it, but with the iwbft reread happening i had to think about some of the scenes again, so i thought i'd post a part of it that i'd already written and really enjoy.

for context: jade and ellis met at a gala for the first time at the beginning of iwbft week and hit it off, ellis had a breakdown in the stairwell and jade calmed her down with chiquitita by abba.

Chapter 2

Wednesday 6 September

Rowan (11.43 am)

the boys&i are back in london now

can you come over soon? there’s a lot i need to talk about to be honest

Jade (12.15 pm)

I’ll come right after work!

Rowan (12.16 pm)

can’t wait! xxx

When she went to the boys’ apartment complex later that day, Jade was surprised to see Jimmy in the lobby in deep conversation with the doorman, Ernest. 

“Hi, Jimjam! Hi Ernest!”

Jimmy turned around and grinned at her.

“Jade!” He rushed up to her and they hugged each other.

“Good afternoon, Ms Omondi!” Ernest said.

“Hi! So all the cool people hang out in lobbies now, do they?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Lister accidentally broke something and I didn’t feel like dealing with the aftermath of that so I thought I’d catch up with Ernest a bit. But I’ll come up with you. I have to face the music eventually.”

“You know, somehow Lister breaking something in the first week of your hiatus is not very hard to believe.”

Jimmy snorted. “My thoughts exactly.”

The two of them said goodbye to Ernest, who made Jimmy promise to find him whenever things got unbearable in the Ark household, and stepped into the lift.

“So, how are you feeling after everything?” Jade asked on their way up to the flat.

Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s all pretty weird right now. I don’t think I’ve fully processed everything that’s happened yet, to be honest.”

Jade ruffled Jimmy’s hair. “I’m sorry things are a fuckhub right now, Jimjam.”

Jade had always felt protective of Jimmy. Back when they both lived in rural Kent, they were two of the only out trans people in their town, so he’d often come to her for advice or when he needed to vent about cis people. Naturally, she’d immediately adopted him as her third little brother.

Jimmy smiled. “Thanks, Jade. We’ll get through it. With therapy and stuff.”

Jade chuckled as the two of them reached their floor and went to face the music.

Rowan, Lister, and, to Jade’s surprise, Cecily Wills, were on the second floor of the flat, standing in front of the crime scene. On the ground was a very expensive painting, knocked off the wall, frame smashed and torn right down the middle. Lister noticed Jade and Jimmy first and smiled at them bashfully. Jade stepped up behind Rowan and wrapped her arms around his waist. He jumped and turned around.

“It’s just me, mate.”

“Jade! Help us,” he pleaded and gestured to the wrecked painting with a look of despair on his face.

“What happened, then?”

“Allister over here just devalued a 10’000-pound piece of art,” Cecily jumped in.

Lister rolled his eyes. “In my defence, I’m the stab-ee with a broken leg, so this sort of thing is to be expected.”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah, it could’ve been much worse, Cecily.”

Lister stared at Rowan, surprised that he’d stand up for him.

“Of course.” Cecily sighed. “Just be more careful next time, babe. That charity auction with Jacques Flaubert was a big milestone in your career so I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell him we just broke his piece.”

“Maybe you just shouldn’t give a shit?” Jade suggested. Cecily raised an eyebrow. “I mean, didn’t you hear about Jacques Flaubert’s blatant aphobia?”

She frowned. “I did not.”

“He said some pretty fucked-up stuff about asexual people and refuses to apologise, so maybe it’s a good thing Lister broke that painting.”

Lister snapped his fingers. “Exactly! We don’t support aphobia in this house!”

“Plus, you’re superstars, so if anything a tear in the painting will increase its value,” Jade continued. “‘Expensive painting broken and patched up by boyband auctioned off for tons of money’ has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Jade, you are speaking my language,” Lister said. Jade winked at him, which made his grin even wider.

“Alright, I’ll go put this painting somewhere safe for the time being. Jimmy, make sure Lister doesn’t break anything else on his way through the flat,” Cecily ordered.

“What, why me?” Jimmy said.

“Because Rowan needs a well-deserved time-out to talk to his sister.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to spend time with me?” Lister asked Jimmy. His tone was teasing, but Jade sensed some genuine hurt behind the question.

“Of course not! Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” Jimmy touched Lister’s back and guided him to the stairs while Cecily picked up the shredded painting and followed them.

Once all three of them were out of sight, Jade turned to Rowan to finally get a good look at him. He looked tired. His hair, which had previously been in twists, was undone and he still had traces of a healing wound where the brick had hit him.

He smiled at her weakly. “Hi.”

“Hi. Wanna play dark souls?”

***

“So, how exactly did Lister end up breaking a 10’000 pound piece of art?” Jade was standing in front of Rowan’s impossibly large window and looking at the London skyline while Rowan was installing the video game.

“He was prematurely trying to be independent and walk up the stairs alone. Next thing you know our flat is in need of some new decoration. You coming?”

“Sure.” Jade took one last good look at the stunning view, then she sat down next to Rowan on his bed, leaning against the headrest, and grabbed the controller he was offering her. Rowan pressed play and the screen started to load. “To be completely honest, though, I would’ve expected you to be much angrier at Lister for that. What happened to the guy who didn’t talk to his bandmate for several months after the suitcase incident?”

“Come on, I’m not that mean. We’ve all been through a lot these past few weeks. I don’t blame him for trying to regain some sense of control.”

“Shit, when did you turn into a psychoanalyst?”

“I don’t know. Scary stuff.”

Jade chuckled. “So… speaking of going through a lot… wanna talk about what’s been happening?”

Rowan nodded slowly and paused the game. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, I haven’t really heard much from you except that you’re okay. Physically, at least. I mostly know what the general public knows.”

“Yikes, Jade, we can’t have you compare yourself to the general public.”

And so Rowan told her everything that happened. From the intimate details of their lives being leaked to the press, to the awful meet-and-greet, them almost being forced to sign their lives away with the new contract, Jimmy running away to their hometown, Bliss ending things with him and how Lister wound up with a broken leg and a stab wound. 

“So yeah, now we’ve decided to go on hiatus for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s a good thing though, right? I mean, you all deserve a shitload of rest after everything.”

“Yeah! I mean, of course. But… I don’t know.”

“But what?”

“Well… I feel like having all this free time might mean we have to… face some stuff. Like, Jimmy and I had the worst fight of our lives, which we haven’t even talked about yet, I have no fucking idea where… everything has left Lister and me, and I just... really miss Bliss. I mean, now that we’d actually have time to see each other it doesn’t amount to anything anymore.”

Rowan. Even after going through the worst week of his life, all he thought about was other people. “But you’re still friends, right? So you will still see each other?”

Rowan shrugged. “We haven’t really talked since. And I think I need a bit of time to get over her, to be honest.” He looked down at his hands and blinked.

“Come here.” Jade opened her arms to her brother and he sunk into them, finally letting his tears fall freely.

“I think it’s good that you’re on hiatus. It means I get to see you more.”

Rowan chuckled through his tears. “I’m quoting this back at you next time you get annoyed at me for throwing a shell at you in Mario Kart.”

Jade laughed. “Oof, dug my own grave there.”

For a while, they stayed in the same position, allowing Rowan to calm down. Finally, he declared, “I think I want to cut my hair and dye it pink.”

Jade raised an eyebrow at him. “So basically like my hair?”

“Um, no… there’s many different shades of pink, Jade.”

“Right, of course.”

“I’d dye it pink even if your hair was a completely different colour!”

Jade threw her hands up. “Yes, yes! Of course! Do what you want!”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Jade snorted while Rowan rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips.

“You know, Alex is gonna miss redoing your twists every few weeks, though. Just FYI.”

“How would you know what Alex would miss?”

“He told me when I saw him the other day. He said ‘Jade, you know what the best part of my job is? Doing your baby brother’s hair. I’d just hate to lose that last shred of joy’,” she said in a dramatic voice.

“Well, it’s not like there’ll be that much styling in this band for the time being anyway. Besides, Lister’s hair really seems to be growing out, so I’m sure he’ll find plenty to do there.”

“Yeah, but that’s white people hair.”

“Good point. I’m still changing mine though.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll look great either way.”

“Thank you. I know.” They grinned at each other. “When did you see Alex?”

“Oh, I ran into him at this gala the other week.” Jade thought back to their last interaction. Shortly after listening to Chiquitita with Ellis, Alex texted Ellis that he wanted to leave. Jade didn’t want to intrude so she stayed behind. That was more than three weeks ago and she hadn’t spoken to either of them since.

Speaking of Ellis...

“I just thought of someone who could help you out with that newly empty wall.”

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 7)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12

AO3 story link

word count: 15,303

_______________________________

The two heroes stopped for snacks, parted ways to run some errands—Johnny heading to PetSmart to grab some crickets and Spidey swinging by Marshmallow’s apartment to fill her food bowl—then reconvened for more snacks and a bit of strategizing. Sue always came by before bed to say goodnight to him—a tradition as embarrassing as it was touching—so Johnny would claim he was hitting the hay early, bid her goodnight, then sneak upstairs to meet Spidey on the penthouse floor balcony.

Unbeknownst to the webhead, he did so by yelling at her through her bedroom door and running away the moment her grunt of acknowledgment came from the other side. Johnny was compartmentalizing Sue’s warning from earlier fairly well, too distracted and excited by the rebellious thrills that lay ahead. But one more steely look from his sister could send him reeling down another heartsick spiral he had no desire to excavate. Soaring above the city and knocking a few heads sounded a lot more fun. 

They found each other on the Quinjet launching pad, bellies filled with double stuffed Oreos and excitement buzzing beneath their skin. Spider-Man claimed he always left the tower this way, but Johnny insisted they be extra stealthy. They were only a few stories above his teammates’ rooms, and the last thing Johnny needed was another run-in with Sue with the masked vigilante by his side. 

“I never thought between the two of us, I’d be considered the bad boy rebel type,” Spider-Man giggled, leaning over the railing. It was the only thing between them and the 98-story drop to the city below.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny asked. Warm wind whipped at his hair. The drone of traffic hummed from the glittering, distant streets. “You don’t think I’m a bad boy?”

“You’re America’s favorite golden child who wears Versace sneakers and only drinks bubbly water,” Spider-Man laughed, turning towards him daringly. “Plus, you made us tip-toe around the place like a couple of kids up past their bedtime instead of two superheroes fighting crime. Of course you’re not a bad boy.”

Johnny scoffed, raising his hand in front of his eyes, flames dancing between his fingers. “I’m a teenager who can light his entire body on fire at will. That makes me hot, combustible, and deliciously dangerous. What’s more bad boy than that, Spider-Man? Or should I say, Afraid-of-Spiders-Man.”

“How about a masked menace with a secret identity and a shady reputation who scours the streets of the city in the night, angsty and alone?” 

The young hero poised the question in a deep, sultry voice, only to bubble with laughter a second later. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“All that mysteriousness disappears the moment anyone actually meets you. In reality, you’re a goofy little science nerd who laughs at his own jokes and wears Hello Kitty pajamas to bed. And I’ve got the photo to prove it.”

Spider-Man pouted. “You’re gonna be holding that one over my head for the rest of time, aren’t yah?”

Johnny stood up tall to emphasize their height difference and leaned in close with a smirk on his face. “Just until you admit I’m more of a rebellious bad boy than you are.”

The young hero gazed up at him, the lights of the city twinkling in his eye lenses. Realizing what he was doing—again—Johnny backed off a bit, cursing himself in his head. Spider-Man stared across the skyline, then hopped on top of the railing. 

“Race yah to the Williamsburg Bridge. First one there wins the title of King Bad Boy.”

Johnny snickered. “You know, the more we say the phrase ‘bad boy’ out loud, the less cool it sounds.”

“Famous last words of a 2nd place un-bad boyish loser,” Spidey taunted him, making an “L” with his fingers and holding it against his forehead. Then he backflipped off the balcony and dove towards the distant pavement, hollering like a howler monkey as he fired webbing from his wrists.

The Human Torch chuckled softly to himself. He watched the masked vigilante swing between buildings—a speck of red in an ocean of sparkling gray. He stepped up onto the railing but hesitated, fresh uncertainty gnawing at his gut. Johnny Storm liked to flirt; the world knew this, especially his fans. Nobody was safe from his suave compliments and teasing smooth-talk. It was a way to win others over, assert his dominance, and showcase his charm; it didn’t insinuate he intended to pursue anything with those subjected to it. He simply enjoyed flaunting his ability to flatter and fluster people.

In that case, he shouldn’t feel weird about flirting with Spider-Man. Right?

Spider-Man knew his rep. He’d seen him interact with his friends and fans before. Flirting was part of his personality. There was no reason for either of them to read anything into it, including Johnny himself. 

The problem was, when Johnny flirted with others, they were the ones who got bashful and coy, not the other way around. But every time he caught himself playing his usual tricks on the masked hero, a nervousness he rarely experienced found its way into his throat. It was as frustrating as it was telling.

But like Sue said, nothing was going to happen. So what did it matter? As long as he didn’t push things too far, Johnny could mess with Spider-Man as much as he wanted without any repercussions. Altering his behavior to act less like himself around him would only further confirm his affections for him. And if the webhead hadn’t caught on by now, Johnny doubted he ever would. 

“Come on, slow poke!” Spidey shouted from below, cupping his hands around his mouth at the peak of his swing. “Whatcha waiting for?” 

Johnny breathed deep, exhuming the unnecessary anxieties from his lungs, then grinned. Absolutely nothing to worry about, he told himself. He could get over these ridiculous emotions for the sake of their friendship. Easy-peasy.

He stepped off the ledge, letting himself drop for a few terrifying, thrilling seconds, then went up in a roar of flames. With a cheer, he blazed forward, rocketing past the masked hero in seconds, making him jolt in surprise mid-swing.

“I figured I’d give you a head start,” Johnny countered smoothly, circling back to hover in front of him, “seeing how I could fly to the bridge and back before you even left this block.”

Spider-Man twirled and spun between each “thwip” of his webs, swooping low to then launch himself skyward. “Probably,” he admitted, somersaulting into his next swing. “But I’d look cooler getting there.”

Johnny shot a puff of flame from his fingers right as Spidey fired his next web-line, slicing the silk in half and making him tumble through the air with a yelp, limbs flailing. The Human Torch cackled as the young vigilante caught himself on a second strand of webbing, his typically graceful movements turned clumsy and frantic.

“Dude!” Spider-Man scoffed, nervous laughter lacing his voice. “Not cool!”

“I’ll say!” Johnny wheezed. “You looked like a frog falling out of a tree!” 

In retaliation, Spidey fired a glob of webbing at his face, rendering the teen celebrity spitting and sputtering as he tried to wipe it away while the masked hero giggled boisterously. Spider webs plus fire evidently led to sticky melted goop that smelled like burnt popcorn. 

“Ugh! This stuff is like glue!”

“Thank you,” Spider-Man stated proudly. “Engineered it myself.”

Johnny cleared the rest of the webbing by flaring the flames surrounding his body, slowing to a glide at the masked hero’s side. “Oh, your enemies must love you—getting caked in this shit all the time.” 

“You know what? They should be grateful when I use it on them. Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect this formula? Finding the right tools and materials was not easy! Not to mention, testing how much of each compound to add and what temperature to heat it to and for how long and—”

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny laughed. “You’re worse than Sue and Reed combined. You’re like my sister’s nerdy little mini me—swooning over science experiments and chemistry shit like there’s nothing more exciting in the world. You should talk shop around her more often; maybe her love of science could eventually supersede her hatred of you.”

Spider-Man pirouetted out of his swing and landed atop a giant digital billboard. Johnny swerved to hover in front of him, flames gilding the edges of his vision. 

“Unfortunately, once somebody decides they hate me, it’s really hard to change their mind.” He gestured to the screen beneath him. “Exhibit A.”

The image switched from an iPhone ad to a blurry photo of Spider-Man overlaid with flashing red text. Hear It Here First! The Latest Atrocities Committed By The Scourge of New York City! Find Out Why YOU Should Despise The Masked Menace Spider-Man! Only On The Daily Bugle.

Johnny winced. This Jameson dick really had it out for him. “Well, you changed my mind,” the Human Torch pointed out. “Maybe, with the right approach, you can change Sue’s mind, too. Hell, even Jonah’s!”

Spider-Man threw his head back and laughed brightly. “I think you’re becoming even more sunny side-up than me.”

The image on the board shifted again, now to a Gucci ad of Johnny Storm wearing baggy cargo pants, a giant belt, and a black crop top. His hands were tangled in his hair, which was lit ablaze, and his face was tilted towards the heavens, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Normally, Johnny loved seeing his face splashed across screens and TVs and billboards for the whole world to worship. But right now, the Human Torch found himself blushing.

Spidey chuckled again. “Oh, the duality of superheroes,” he lamented. He pointed between the giant Johnny’s eyes in disbelief. “Oh my god. Did you used to have a nose ring?”

Johnny camouflaged his embarrassment behind a suave grin. “Still do,” he replied. “But if I wear it while my flames are on, it usually ends up melting. So you’ll only see me with it every now and then.” 

“I’m actually mad at how good it looks on you,” Spider-Man grumbled. “You and your goddamn model face can pull things off I’d never dream of trying. Also, nose ring definitely adds extra points to your bad boy rating.”

The Human Torch ran his fingers through his flaming locks with a dreamy sigh. “I get it, all right? I’m gorgeous, and you’re obsessed with me. Get in line.”

A nervous giggle escaped the spider-themed hero. “Ugh. Remind me to never compliment you ever again.” He launched himself off the sign and whipped around the closest skyscraper. The Human Torch followed shortly behind.

“I’ll try,” Johnny teased him, catching up to the masked vigilante and flanking him on the left, “but you just can’t seem to help yourself. There’s so many wonderful things about me for you to gush over.” 

“Get bent, Johnny,” Spider-Man laughed, using the momentum from his next swing to kick off of his back like a fiery springboard. 

“Hey!” Johnny cried. He wobbled in the air for a moment before regaining his balance, then shot after the cackling hero as he thwipped ahead. 

“My advice from before still stands, by the way!” Johnny called, catching up to him. “If you want to try to mend your public image, I can help you! We could make a page or profile for Spider-Man together.”

The masked vigilante cupped his hand behind one ear as if he’d spontaneously gone deaf. “Huh? What’s that? The wind’s too loud! I can’t hear you!” He dashed across the windows of an office building and extended his pointer finger in front of him. “Anyways, the bridge is just ahead! And I’m totally gonna beat you to it!”

“You liar,” Johnny scoffed, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “You told everyone back at the tower you have heightened senses! I know you can hear me! Hey! Wait up! Spidey!”

Spider-Man pressed forward as fast as his webs would carry him, sprinting and swinging and slingshotting his way between buildings. For a few moments, Johnny let him take the lead. He watched him bob above the skyline and dip towards the earth, admiring the lovely shapes his body made as he arched and soared. His hard edges seemed to soften between flips and somersaults and swings, like the warm wind was eroding away his points. He was a perfect stone skipping across a pond’s glass surface. He was a colorful kingfisher swooping and breaching the surf. He was a fairy in the cosmos bounding between constellations.

And then…he was falling.

Johnny watched in shock as Spider-Man made his signature “thwipping” motion only for nothing to come out of his web shooters but a puff of smoke. Mid-drop, he tried again, aiming with his left wrist this time. Again—more smoke, no webs. He ran through a rapid-fire list of expletives as he plunged towards the ground, arms windmilling through the air. Johnny raced forward to catch him, but it was too late. Spider-Man crashed stomach-first into a streetlamp, his body folding in on itself from the impact, a painful “oof” punching out of his chest. In an instant, the magic spell Spidey had him under was broken, replaced instead by the vigilante’s true essence—a dumbass teenager in full-body pantyhose who’d just belly-flopped into a light post. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny exclaimed, half-laughing, half-concerned. He dove down to where the masked hero had fallen. “Dude! Are you okay?”

Moaning, the young hero clambered on top of the light, hugging his midsection pitifully. “I’m good…y-yep. Totally good. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. Ugh…” He raised his arm in front of his eyes and tapped at his palm triggers. A tiny metal capsule shot out of the device on his wrist, spinning and steaming. He snatched it out of the air and huffed bitterly. “Forgot to load my web-shooters with new cartridges. You’d think with all times I’ve ate shit after running out of webs, I would’ve learned my lesson by now. But no.”

Johnny snickered into his hands. “You have a knack for switching from remarkable athlete to helpless klutz in the blink of an eye. You’re like a cartoon character. It’s very entertaining.”

“Mm-hmm, great. So glad one of us is entertained by this. You know what’s not entertaining? Ramming your gut into a pole after inhaling six handfuls of Oreos. Why did I have to go for double stuffed? Ugh…regrets…”

The Human Torch extended his arms above his head and spoke in his best Anchorman voice. “Breaking news: Spider-Man crashes into a streetlamp then pukes all over the sidewalk! Will his reign of terror never cease? Maybe if he let his friend Johnny help him restore his reputation, dumb stories like these would stop making headlines.”

Spider-Man perched on top of the light post, rubbing gingerly at his belly. “I told you before, Johnny. I don’t care what people like Jameson think about me.”

“I think you do,” Johnny countered, crossing his arms against his chest. “Not Jameson, specifically. But this city as a whole. It’s okay for it to bother you, you know. Being hated isn’t fun. Not that I would know—I’m adored the entire world over.”

The masked hero chuckled feebly. “It isn’t fun,” he admitted. “But I’m used to it by now. And I have better things to do than trying to change their minds.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything. I would head the entire operation. Since you’re obviously incapable of unburying your rep on your own.”

Spider-Man stood and started to say something else, then backtracked. “Uh,” he stammered, eyeing the sidewalk below. “We’re kind of attracting an audience.”

Johnny turned towards the small mob forming beneath the lamppost. Teens and adults alike were gathering along the curb, murmuring and whispering excitedly, filming the two of them on their phones. The Human Torch grinned and waved, sending a thrill of squeals through the crowd, and a lightbulb went off inside his head.

“Hey friends,” he called. He rose to hover at Spider-Man’s side, dousing the flames on his right arm and slinging it around the vigilante’s shoulders. “Make sure to capture me and Spidey’s good side, yeah?”

Exclamations of surprise and snapping camera shutters bubbled from the pedestrians. Spider-Man shot a glance at him, eye lenses wide, squirming a little beneath his embrace. 

“Johnny…” he said nervously. “We shouldn’t—I mean, your sister will—”

“To hell with my sister,” Johnny hissed under his breath. “Just follow my lead, Webhead! Smile and wave!”

“Johnny! Hey Johnny!” a man hollered from below. “Are you friends with Spider-Man?”

“Of course not!” another guy answered for him. “Have you been living under a goddamn rock? Spider-Man is a criminal! Johnny Storm is a hero!”

Johnny frowned, raising his hand. “Hold on a minute—”

“Are you taking the masked menace to the police for burning down that boba shop?” a woman interjected.

“Or assassinating JFK?”

“Or running a whorehouse out of every bagel shop in Queens?”

“It’s true! I’ve seen it! Einstein’s has been overrun by prostitutes! Just look at the outfits those cashiers wear! And it’s all Spider-Man’s fault!”

“Oh my god,” Spider-Man groaned, hanging his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, people! I’ve never even been to an Einstein’s before! Everyone knows Hot Bialys Bagels is where it’s at!”

The crowd’s booing drowned him out. Other than a few supporters sprinkled here and there, the majority of the mob seemed staunchly anti-Spider-Man. Their bitter animosity made Johnny’s stomach twist. 

“Get out of our city!” one guy yelled.

“Leave Johnny Storm alone!” another hollered. 

“Can I get a selfie?”

“We love you, Johnny!”

“Fuck off, menace!”

“You’re my hero, Spider-Man!”

“No he’s not!”

“Shut up!” 

“You shut up!”

“Stop sexualizing bagels!”

Spider-Man sighed. “Love you too, New York,” he said begrudgingly. Then he tugged at Johnny’s non-fiery arm. “I think we should go.”

“But—” Johnny began, grasping for the right words. But the masked hero was already zipping away on silken threads, dodging a few handfuls of garbage flung at him from the streets below. The flickering flames on the Human Torch’s shoulders flared in frustration. He turned towards the growing mob, floating high above their heads.

“You’re wrong about him, you know!” he shouted over their bickering, stunning a section of them silent. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see on sketchy news sites!” 

“Don’t get caught in his web of lies, Johnny!” a young woman cried. “You’re one of the good ones!”

“Have my babies, Johnny Storm!”

“Sign my forehead!”

“Step on my throat!”

“Fantastic Four Forever!”

Johnny huffed defeatedly. No matter what Spider-Man did, people continued to hate him. And no matter what Johnny Storm did, people continued to love him. Both of them were caught on opposite sides of the same inescapable fate, but Johnny was determined to drag Spidey over to his end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, at this rate, it’d probably take more than an impromptu photo op or shouting at randos on the streets to make it happen. 

With a sigh, Johnny blew a flaming kiss to his fans, sending a wave of shrieks cascading down the sidewalk. Then he jetted after Spider-Man, who was swinging between skyscrapers once again.  

“Bagel prostitutes, huh?” he said, moving close enough to see himself glimmering in the whites of Spidey’s eye lenses. “That’s a new one.”

Spider-Man shrugged mid-thwip. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

Against his will, Johnny busted out laughing, which made Spidey giggle, too. Johnny considered saying more—about the billboard, the mob, the cruel nonsense they’d spouted about him. But the bridge was in their sights, looming dead ahead, poking above the horizon. And the young vigilante was picking up speed, cutting eager glances his way, daring him to keep up. They zoomed down Delancey Street, passing pie shops and bodegas and fancy overpriced ramen restaurants, the world blurring at the edges of their vision, the wind howling in their ears. Taxis and tour buses whizzed by like race cars. Spider-Man moved like a web-slinging machine and wore the city’s colors well. 

Johnny could easily blaze ahead of him, but flying by Spidey’s side was much more fun. He started bobbing up and down to match Spider-Man’s swinging motions, which made the masked hero laugh. 

“You look like a flaming dolphin!” he giggled, slightly out of breath. 

Johnny smiled. “You look like this city was made just for you.”

Spider-Man’s eyes snapped up to meet his—so quickly, in fact, he fumbled a little on his next swing, very nearly letting the web-line slip right through his fingers. “O-oh yeah?” he sputtered in response, gripping onto the thread for dear life. Johnny laughed into the wind and rocketed forward.

“Eat my flames, web for brains!”

He circled Spidey in a few wide arcs, wondering how they must’ve looked from afar. Perhaps like ice skaters mirroring each other in the rink, or a brilliant comet orbiting its favorite red and blue planet. As they cleared the final stretch of land between them and the East River, Johnny propelled himself into the lead, weaving between suspension cables to land atop the bridge’s first tower. He turned to watch Spider-Man brachiate up the metal wires and flip onto the concrete platform beside him. Once he found his footing, the masked hero doubled over with his hands on his knees, wheezing with breathless laughter.

“You’re looking a little winded there, buddy,” Johnny teased him, extinguishing his flames to pat him on the back. “That’s embarrassing. I haven’t even broken a sweat.”

“Shut up,” Spider-Man chuckled, clutching his ribs. “I have to actually exert effort to go fast. You just—I don’t know—think about it, and it happens. Like Iron Man or Captain Marvel with your goddamn rocket booster feet.”

“You mean like two of the most powerful superheroes ever? Guess I’m in good company, then. Cooler, less smellier company.”

Spider-Man sank to his knees with a huff, then flopped dramatically onto his back, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the tower. Johnny sat beside him, tossing a tiny ball of fire between his hands. 

“How long have you had your powers again?” Spidey asked, gazing up at the sky. “Four months?”

“Almost five,” Johnny replied.

The vigilante shifted to fold his arms behind his head. “I know you’ve talked about it in interviews and stuff, but…what was it like? The incident in space, waking up with superpowers, all of it? Did anything happen that you’ve never told anyone before?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes and rested his chin on his knees. “Hmm. I peed a little when I got hit with the particle cloud. Does that count?”

Spider-Man snickered in that adorable little way that spun Johnny’s brain to scrambled eggs. “Seriously? That’s all?”

The Human Torch stared across the glistening river, reliving the moments that had changed his life forever, trying to remember the jumbled thoughts that had raced through his mind. He snuffed the tiny fireball in his fist.

“When the particle cloud hit, I was…the last one to get struck by it. Ben, Reed, and Sue were in front of me, and I had to watch all three of them disappear behind a wall of radioactive space dust.” The menacing storm colliding with their ship and swallowing his friends whole replayed behind his eyes.“In that fraction of a second, everything kinda…dipped into slow motion. I was certain I’d just witnessed all the people I had left to care about die in one fell swoop. And as the ship’s co-pilot, it was partially my fault.” 

Something thorny squeezed the inside of his throat. Johnny swallowed, turning towards the vigilante. “Do you know what I was thinking in that moment?”

Spider-Man sat up slowly, holding his gaze, uncharacteristically quiet. Johnny stared at his fingers as they kneaded the fabric on his forearms. 

“I thought, ‘if this thing kills them, then it better fucking kill me, too.’”

A couple seconds passed before Spider-Man laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Johnny glanced at him quickly then lowered his gaze, feeling queasy and exposed all of a sudden, wondering how the masked hero always found a way to pull these kinds of confessions out of him. Wondering why things that normally felt impossible to say spilled from his lips so easily in his presence. 

“I’m really sorry you felt that way,” Spider-Man said. “You’ve lost a lot of your loved ones at a really young age. Losing the ones you’ve got left is the scariest scenario imaginable for people like us. I know that had to be terrifying.”

With a groan, Johnny turned away from him, wiping at the tears suddenly falling from his eyes. “Goddammit, Webs,” he laughed, throat tight. “How do you always manage to turn me into an absolute sap? This is not very King Bad Boy of me.” 

The masked hero giggled apologetically. “For what it’s worth, being emotionally vulnerable is the most bad boy thing ever in my book. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

“I hate it, but thanks,” Johnny chuckled. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a slow, shaky breath. Johnny Storm’s tendency to feel his feelings very strongly was one of his fans’ favorite things about him. He just wished he could control them more instead of them controlling him. His therapist said big feelings often signify that we embrace life fully because we’re not repressing our natural reactions, but being unable to properly regulate them can be frustrating and scary. It was a very difficult balance to strike—managing without repressing.

“You know what?" Johnny sighed. "You can keep your bad boy title. I’m more of the overly sensitive manic pixie dream boy-type anyhow. If I wanted to come off as dark and mysterious, I’d probably have to follow your example and start wearing a mask. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon; it’d be criminal to cover a face this pretty.”

Spider-Man leaned back with his weight on his palms and his chin tilted towards the clouds. “I’m not gonna lie—on top of hiding my identity, that was one of the main reasons I decided to start wearing one.”

Johnny pulled his hands away from his eyes in surprise. “Really? You’re a big crybaby, too?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Definitely not as big as you are,” he ribbed him. “But…despite all of the life-or-death situations I’ve gotten myself into, I still get scared a lot more often than people probably realize. When I’m fighting bad guys ten times my size and double my age, or getting shot at by machine guns, or struggling to save someone, knowing one wrong move on my end could get them killed…I’m petrified.” 

The Human Torch studied him curiously, the smile on his lips waning. Spider-Man tapped his eye lenses with his fingers. 

“If my enemies and teammates and the people I rescue could see how scared I am all the time, I don’t think they’d have as much faith in me to do what I do well. So I wear a mask and crack stupid jokes to seem cool and chill and in control instead of four seconds away from shitting my pants. Or bawling my eyes out.”

Johnny traced the contours of Spider-Man’s mask with his gaze, his brain deconstructing and rewiring its understanding of the vigilante in real time. He gave his leg a playful punch. 

“Guess we’re both just a couple of dumb, terrified kids in way over our heads, huh?” 

“Probably me more than you,” Spidey giggled. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared at the cars buzzing beneath their feet, his voice suddenly timid. “I used to be scared of heights, you know.”

Johnny cracked a grin. “No way,” he said.

“It’s true. Have you seen that footage of me scaling the Washington Monument? At the time, that was the highest I’d ever climbed before. When I finally got to the top and looked down, I thought I was going to puke. Or faint. Or both.”

“That is so adorable,” Johnny cackled. “Aw, man. Poor Webhead. Scared of heights, scared of spiders. Fate dealt you one helluva hand, my guy.”

Spider-Man huffed. “I’ll have you know I sacrificed one of those poor, defenseless crickets you gave me to Benji, and I only screamed for fifteen seconds. Did I want to scream more? Yes. Did I make myself watch as he tore that helpless insect to shreds? Of course not. I don’t even know if he ate it. I very likely could’ve missed his cage entirely. I had my eyes shut the whole time.”

Johnny snickered into his palm. “At least you’re referring to Benji by his name instead of ‘it’ or ‘monstrosity’ or ‘nightmare fuel.’ That’s progress!”

A helicopter passed overhead, chomping at the air, lights winking. After a beat, Spidey nudged him with his elbow.

“Hey, so…in case no one’s ever said this, I want you to know you can’t blame yourself for what happened on the space mission. Nobody could’ve predicted that—not even Dr. Richards, and he’s one of the smartest guys ever!”

Johnny blinked, bit his cheek, then furrowed his brow. “I know,” he murmured eventually. “It just…it could’ve been really bad.”

“But it wasn’t,” Spider-Man reminded him. “Instead of hurting your friends, the particle cloud gave you all superpowers. I think you were meant to be there when the space dust hit. I think everything happened exactly as it did for a reason.”

A hesitant smile found Johnny’s lips. “And what reason might that be, Thwippy?”

The masked hero shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe so you can save the world. Maybe to give you a family again—one that’s united unlike any other family out there.” He pressed his finger against the Fantastic Four symbol in the center of his chest, making Johnny stiffen and glance down. “But I know for a fact this didn’t happen for nothing.” 

His touch lingered just long enough to stir Johnny’s heart inside his ribs, and he wondered if Spider-Man could feel it. When he withdrew his hand, which felt decades later yet far too soon, the masked hero giggled.

“You’re not about to cry again, are you?”

Jarred back to the real world, Johnny managed a curt laugh. “No, asshole,” he snapped, even though he suddenly felt like bursting into tears. He gave him a shove for good measure and ran the back of his hand under his nose. “I’m not that pathetic.”

The masked hero chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “It’s all right. I think it’s sweet how much you care about your teammates. Even though you act like you hate each other most of the time.”

“Oh, I do hate them,” Johnny corrected him. He grabbed a handful of Spidey’s suit in his fist and yanked him forward with a playfully threatening grin. “And if you tell them I said anything that suggests otherwise, I’ll deny it all and sneak little Benji under your pillow while you’re sleeping. How’s that sound?”

Spidey laughed skittishly, curling his fingers around the ones gripping his suit. “I don’t know. Still feels worth it to me.”

“Then I’ll tweet out to all my followers that Spider-Man is scared of spiders and heights.”

“That’s all you got? I have far more damning things tweeted about me every day. Try again.”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, my friend.”

“Danger is my middle name, Torch.”

Johnny had released his hold on him by that point, but they were still leaning towards each other, gazes locked, faces recklessly close, kneecaps brushing, breaths stilled. Each daring the other to be the first to back away, chicken out. It wasn’t going to be Johnny. His pulse raced as he pressed the tiniest bit closer, blood electric, voice small. 

“Spidey, I—”

“Something’s wrong.”

Johnny opened his eyes, which had unconsciously slipped shut, to find himself facing the back of Spider-Man’s head. The masked hero was looking behind them towards the Brooklyn side of the city beyond the Williamsburg Bridge. The Human Torch blinked, the fairy lights untangling from his heart, the rose-tinted sparkles dissolving from his vision. Sickly embarrassment replaced all other emotions. He shrunk into himself, swallowing. 

“W-what is it?” he asked in a hollow voice. Spider-Man rose to his feet. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” the masked hero said, animated with urgency. “Like…really in trouble. We have to go.” He kicked off the tower, waving for Johnny to follow him. “Come on!”

Johnny stood up slowly, watching the red and blue figure swing down the center of the bridge, lines of webbing hooked between swooping suspension cables. He emptied the stale air from his lungs. God, I’m an idiot. At least Spidey was too clueless and heterosexual to take a hint. He’d never fallen for anyone this quickly or acutely before. It was bordering on pathetic—unhinged, even. Johnny Storm could have anyone else he wanted: so why did he choose to torture himself by crushing on a guy so clearly not interested? He had to stop entertaining this delusional fantasy. He had to quit reopening old wounds. No more toeing needlessly inflammatory lines. After all the shit Johnny had put him through—from scoffing at his kindness to exploiting his compassion and now forcing his affections on him when they weren’t reciprocated—it was a wonder Spider-Man still wanted to be friends with him at all.

Self-destructive tendencies ran deep in the Storm family. It was time to end this before he officially ruined everything. 

Igniting the fire in his veins once again, Johnny chased after the masked hero, a trail of embers on his tail. They cleared the bridge and zipped above the bustling streets of Brooklyn, the city growing darker and quieter as they approached the more residential neighborhoods near Prospect Park. Spider-Man followed whatever 6th sense instinct was guiding him all the way into an alley between two apartment complexes, which reeked of rotting takeout and sewage. Johnny braked to hover at his side and grimaced. 

“Blech,” he said, pinching his nose. “You sure your danger detecting powers weren’t leading us here because that dumpster is emitting some kind of bio-hazardous radiation? ‘Cuz that’s a bit below my pay grade.” 

“No,” Spider-Man insisted. “It’s something else.”

“You said so yourself your senses can be a bit finicky. Maybe the threat’s already passed.”

“That’s not how it works,” Spidey snapped, taking a couple steps forward. “I can feel it. Someone’s in trouble really close by.”

“Could it be someone in one of these apartments? That’ll take ages to figure out. Maybe we should look for an easier victim to rescue.”

Spidey faced him with a scoff. “Johnny! Somebody needs our help! We can’t just leave! We have to find them!”

“All right! I’m just saying! Maybe this ‘spider sense’ you claim to have isn’t as reliable as you think.”

“It’s reliable enough to be buzzing like crazy right now! Which I know means there’s danger nearby!” 

“Well maybe the danger you’re sensing is the smelliest dumpster in all of New York that you’ve decided to park us by! I mean, Jesus, Webhead! Are your eyes not watering right now? ‘Cuz mine are practically melting out of my face!”

Spider-Man groaned and turned back down the alleyway. “I know someone’s in trouble. You can go if you want, but I’m staying until I find whoever it is.”

Johnny mumbled a few choice words under his breath, but reluctantly followed him. “This would be a lot easier if the person in danger was actively vocalizing that fact. You know, screaming, wailing, flipping some kind of alarm. Doing something to alert us that they need our—”

“Help! Please help!”

The two heroes stiffened in surprise, wide eyes meeting in the pale darkness. What? No way.

“Help me!”

Spidey and Johnny gasped in unison. Oh shit. Yes way.

To their horror, the weak cries were coming from inside the rancid dumpster beside them. Immediately, Spidey sprung into action. He stuck to the wall above the bin and got right to work digging through the muck, a fresh stink of ungodly horrors bubbling up and assaulting their airways. 

“Oh god, I’m gonna puke,” Johnny croaked. He dared not imagine how anyone could survive being trapped in that noxious filth. 

“We’re coming! We’re gonna get you out!” Spider-Man plunged his entire arm into the garbage, rooting around feverishly, then shot Johnny a look. “I could use a hand here, Gucci Couture!”

“B-but what if there’s something flammable in there? I don’t want to accidentally light you both on fire!”

“Then turn your flames off!”

The Human Torch whined in defeat and extinguished the fire encasing him. “This is not what I had in mind for our superhero team-up night.” He definitely would’ve stayed home if he knew this was what he was signing up for. Looking away with his eyes pinched shut, Johnny gingerly pawed at the sticky trash pile, cursing and gagging into his elbow. The whimpers from within grew louder and louder. As Johnny’s dinner threatened to make a reappearance, his fingers bumped something that felt strangely solid. Johnny ventured a glance into the dumpster to find a hand poking out of the debris. 

“Here!” he cried, only to break into a nauseous coughing fit. While Johnny dry-heaved against the opposite wall, Spider-Man cleared away another layer of garbage and seized the buried man by the wrist. 

“I gotcha!” he said. Spidey pulled him out of the trash mound, an avalanche of filth falling around them, then scooped the man into his arms bridal-style. He hopped off the lip of the dumpster and knelt to the ground, brushing banana peels and Pop Tart wrappers out of his hair. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

The man blinked dazedly, his eyes distant and bloodshot, his clothes smeared and stained. He had a large bruise on his left temple that was crusted with blood and other smaller wounds sprinkled across his body. Early thirties, Johnny guessed—a waiter, based on his attire. Johnny’s heart twinged at the sight of him while his stomach turned from the smell. 

“Sir? Can you hear me? We’re going to call you an ambulance, okay?”

“My son,” he wheezed, his eyes flashing with realization. He sat up rigidly, grabbing Spider-Man’s arm. “Please. They took my son!”

“Who took your son?” the masked hero asked. “Was it the same people who did this to you?”

“Yes! They ambushed me! They cornered us, ripped him right out of my arms, b-beat me unconscious, then—” He choked on his words, tears flooding his eyes. “I have to get him back! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Did you see where they took him?” Johnny said. “Did they have a vehicle?”

The man was weeping hysterically now, hands shaking, hardly able to speak. “I don’t know! It h-happened so fast! I couldn’t protect him! Why would anyone do this? Who would steal someone’s child?”

He doubled over his lap, racked with sobs. Spider-Man laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re going to get him back,” he assured him. A far-off scream suddenly cut through the air, sending a chill through Johnny’s skeleton. The two teens winced in alarm, then dashed to the end of the alleyway, entering the street it fed into. At the nearest intersection, four men were wrestling a teenage girl into the back of a van. She was kicking and shrieking with all her might, but horrendously, painfully outnumbered. Adrenaline sizzled like pop rocks in Johnny’s bloodstream. Spider-Man whirled towards the father on the ground. 

“Call 911!” he shouted. “Tell them we're in pursuit of the kidnappers! And have them send an ambulance!”

Without waiting to see if he followed his demands, Spider-Man launched himself towards the van on taut strands of webbing. Johnny rocketed after him, pulse humming in his ears. 

“Shit!” one of the thugs hissed. “It’s him! The spider freak is here!”

“Who’s that with him? Oh, fuck! Is that that fruity flaming kid?” 

“Let her go, dipshits!” Spidey cried. A glob of webbing splattered across the largest goon’s face, muffling his cries of terror.

“Call it in! We gotta get outta here!"

"Step on it!”

The men shoved the girl into the vehicle and piled in frantically behind her. Just before the back doors clapped shut, Johnny caught a glimpse of a tiny figure huddled in the corner, arms hugging his knees, feeble cries tearing from his throat.

“Daddy!” the boy wept. 

“Help!” the girl screamed.

Then they disappeared behind tinted windows as the van peeled away from the curb.

“They’re getting away!” Johnny cried. “We have to stop them!” 

The vehicle screeched around a corner. Johnny zipped after it, pumping everything he had into propelling himself faster, leaving Spider-Man far in his wake. He was gaining on the kidnappers, pushing closer and closer, reaching out to grab hold of the door handles on the back—

And then, two more vehicles appeared. 

Zooming up from behind, flanking Johnny on his left and right, gunning it at eighty miles an hour at least. The Human Torch wavered in surprise, glancing between the pair of unexpected bonus vans, squinting to try to see through their near-black windows. 

“The hell—?” he started to say.

“Johnny!” Spider-Man’s voice called from above, his red and blue shape leaping from the rooftops in his peripherals. “Watch out!”

Johnny’s gaze whipped forward just in time to stare down the barrel of a handgun. Poking out of the passenger side window, aimed directly between his eyes. A finger pulling back on the trigger. Johnny sucked in a gasp. His heart lodged in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. 

Shit, he realized. I’m about to be shot!  

The muzzle flashed, a bang rang out, but something struck him before the bullet could, knocking him out of the way. The air was punched from his lungs twice: once when he was tackled, and again when his body crashed into concrete. Searing pain blossomed in his shoulder, making him cry out. He gripped his upper arm and groaned furiously, the weight of whatever had hit him rising off his chest.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Spidey hissed. Johnny peeled his eyes open to find the masked vigilante kneeling over him, swatting at his torso and waving his arms around. “Gah! Shit! That was not my brightest idea!”

Johnny blinked, the recognition flooding in. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You…that was you? You knocked me out of the way?” He blinked again, the rattled gears in his head gradually clicking back into place. “I…I was about to die. You saved me.”

Spider-Man dusted the remaining cinders off his suit, bits of burnt fabric falling away to reveal blistered skin underneath. “Are you okay? That was a close call. You fell on your shoulder pretty bad, huh? Sorry I hit you so hard.”

The piercing pain snaking down his arm was still present but bearable. Johnny sat up with a grimace, the rumble of car engines fading into the distance, drinking in the scorch marks on Spider-Man’s costume and flesh. Despair lashed around his stomach. 

“Fuck,” he choked out. “I burnt you.” He doused his flames immediately, fingers hovering over the freshly seared skin. “Oh my god. You're burnt all over.”

“I’ll be okay,” Spider-Man assured him unconvincingly. “Nothing a little aloe vera can’t fix. Who knows—maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll peel into a tan.” 

He flinched when the Human Torch brushed the exposed flesh on his forearm, driving a nail straight through Johnny’s heart. He’d never burnt someone he cared about this severely before. Sure, he’d singed the occasional eyebrow off, fried a few teammates’ reading glasses to ashes, but not this. Nothing like this.

“You’re really hurt,” Johnny croaked, tears pricking his eyes. “You’re hurt because of me.” 

“It’s not that bad. And It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who body-slammed into you, remember?” Spider-Man was putting on his cheeriest, most comedic facade to try to lighten the mood and lessen Johnny’s remorse, but the streaks of blistered skin peeking through his blackened suit spoke for themselves. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” the Human Torch whispered, skewered with guilt.

The masked hero clasped his arm and gave it a shake. “I promise I’m fine. And if you’re fine too, we’ve gotta get moving. We can’t let them escape with the kid and that girl.”

The thought of the two of them trapped with those monsters was enough to anchor Johnny’s focus. Bleary-eyed, he tried his best to swallow down his emotions—just enough that he could execute the task at hand. People needed their help. For their sake, he had to shift his concern. Temporarily, anyway. The despair clinging to his throat sloughed into his stomach and boiled to rage. 

He rolled his aching shoulder and nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Spidey stood, helped him to his feet, and together, they were off: zipping between buildings, tracking the three vans through Brooklyn. Johnny couldn’t help but notice the masked hero favoring his left side as he swung, which was a little less burnt than his right. The Human Torch kept his distance so none of his heat or embers would accidentally blow into Spider-Man, guilt branching through his insides. He was never going to burn him ever again. 

Two blocks ahead, the trio of dark vehicles came into sight, weaving recklessly through traffic. Johnny scrutinized them from afar, fire licking the edges of his vision. 

“We need to work together to get to the hostages without getting shot,” Johnny called to Spider-Man. The masked hero swung off a flagpole at his side. 

“What did you have in mind, Torchy? You’re the better team player here.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes and pressed a little faster forward. “You focus on getting to the front car and rescuing the captives. I’ll cover you, disarm anyone who has a weapon, and try to take out the back-up vans.”

Spider-Man nodded. “We’ll cover each other. Just be careful going after the other two cars; for all we know, they could have hostages inside, too.”

The Human Torch balled up his hands at his sides. “Let’s bust these douchebags.”

Spidey charged ahead first, catapulting skyward and slingshotting himself down the street. Johnny jetted after him, eyes darting between the three vans, fistfuls of fire at the ready. Right as Spider-Man landed on top of the front car, the right side door of the van on the left clattered open, revealing three men dressed in black and armed with the scariest machine guns Johnny had ever seen. 

Jesus Christ, Johnny thought, alarm coating his throat. What kind of kidnappers are these guys? Military-grade weapons and matching body armor weren’t prevalent among everyday criminals. These men had funding far beyond any street gang Johnny had encountered. One of the thugs leaned out of the van and pointed his gun at the back of Spider-Man’s head. Magma ignited in Johnny’s blood.

“Nope!” he cried, hurling a fire blast at his hands. “Not today, sir!” Flames exploded in the man’s face, making him drop the weapon with a shout of surprise. The Human Torch propelled himself inside the van, kicking the now unarmed thug into the two other gunmen. They staggered into the back door, scrambling to get to their feet, gawking at the flaming teenager hovering before them. Johnny’s blaze cast a flickering orange glow across the walls of the vehicle and flashed in the men’s dark sunglasses. He swept his gaze across the hostage-less van and smirked. 

“No captives,” Johnny noted. “Perfect. No one to get in the way of me wiping the floor with you three.”

“The fuck?” the disarmed thug exclaimed. The other goons grappled frantically with their guns as Johnny summoned flames to his palms. Before they could shoot, Johnny seized the barrels of their assault rifles in his fists and heated his hands so hot, they melted shut. He bashed the useless weapons into their skulls, stunning both men dizzy. The third guy pulled a baton from his belt that buzzed with electricity. Johnny laughed.

“You seriously think that’ll hurt me? I’m made of plasma, dude.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the thug growled. The men had thick Russian accents, like they’d been plucked right out of a James Bond movie. They had such visceral “bad guy” energy, it was almost laughable.

Almost.

“Don’t kidnap children, and I won’t have to be,” the Human Torch countered. The sound of a gun cocking rang from behind him, making him whip around with frenzied movements.

“Don’t shoot!” the goon with the baton ordered. The van’s driver lowered his weapon, looking just as confused as Johnny. “Not that one. We only kill the Spider-Man.”

Johnny faced the thug with a puzzled scoff, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not good enough for you to kill?”

“Knock him out,” he demanded. “Save your bullets for the Spider.”

Sticky unease swam through his entrails. Why would they want him dead but not me? The goon twirled the baton in his fingers, then charged at him. Johnny met him in the middle—darting forwards and ramming his good shoulder into his chest, knocking him hard enough into the back doors to bust one off its hinges. He screamed and flew out of the van onto the broken door as it skidded across the pavement, sparks flying. Within seconds, he was a receding dot in the distance. The wail of approaching police sirens found Johnny’s ears. Hopefully the cops would grab him before he could make a getaway.

Johnny snatched two pairs of handcuffs from the ominous pile of restraints in the corner and cuffed the remaining thugs to the metal support bars on the wall. Gunfire suddenly exploded from behind him, making him yelp in surprise. Johnny spun around to find the third van careening towards him with four more men inside. They were shooting at Spider-Man, but their car was barreling straight for Johnny. The Human Torch hit the deck as the vehicles collided. The crash made his teeth rattle inside his skull. The van he was in went airborne. He braced for the second impact. 

But it didn’t come. Instead, the van bounced and wobbled like it had landed in jello instead of crashing into the sidewalk. Dizzy relief crossed with wary confusion swirled through Johnny’s system as he crawled across the lopsided surface and staggered to his feet. He poked his head out of the sliding door to find the van suspended about ten feet above the pavement, strung between buildings by thick nets of webbing.

Cursing, the vehicle’s driver flung himself out the window to try to escape, only to drop into the tangle of spider webs and wind up trapped and squirming like a fly awaiting a gruesome demise. Far ahead, Spider-Man tottered on top of the van in front, hopping and dancing all over the place to avoid the bullets blasting through the roof beneath his feet. The vehicle zig-zagged between lanes in attempt to shake him off while the second van revved to catch up. Flashing police cars barreled up the road behind them, the overlapping wail of sirens drowning out everything except the pop of gunfire.

Johnny spared himself a moment to admire Spidey’s quick web work, then launched out of the van. Red-hot flames pulsed off his body as he chased the runaway vehicles, which the police were gradually gaining on. 

The two remaining vans were charging madly down the road. They clipped parked cars and rammed aside any other vehicles in their way, sending sprays of shattered headlights bounding across the pavement. Spider-Man shot quick globs of webbing at the men in the adjacent van while struggling to dodge the gunfire from the thug in the passenger’s seat underneath him. He caught Johnny’s eye and gave him a wave.

“Johnny!” he called. “Could you—?”

“On it!” Johnny said, racing past him. He whacked the pistol out of the gunman’s hands and grabbed hold of his arm through the window, ignoring his cries of pain. Or perhaps, rather, savoring them. This man was the bastard who had almost shot him. He was the reason Spider-Man knocked him out of the way and wound up getting burnt. He was also, not to mention, a goddamn kidnapper. He deserved every ounce of pain Johnny’s fingers were searing into his skin. Johnny held on a little while longer, tightening his grip just for good measure, the stench of fried flesh filling his nose. Then he kicked off the side of the van, dragging the man out through the window, and chucked him into a pile of garbage bags stacked on the curb. He hoped they smelled just as rank as the dumpster they’d left their captive’s father in. 

Spider-Man ducked behind the side of the van as bullets erupted from the opposing vehicle. Johnny faced the car overflowing with thugs and assault rifles as it gunned towards him head-on. Liquid fire coursed through his veins. Summer wind whistled in his ears. He took a deep breath, gathering oxygen into his lungs, then released it as a blast of flames from his palms. The stream of fire spilled over the van’s front tires, making them burst. The car swerved uncontrollably, scraping along on metal rims, streaks of melted rubber trailing behind it. It veered off the road and crashed into a fire hydrant, sending the goons hanging off the sides spilling onto the concrete. A spume of water arched high above their heads and rained across the hot pavement. Johnny checked the van for hostages and was grateful to find none. The police were quick to surround the wreck, so he left the scene for them to handle. The most important pieces of this car chase were still trapped in the final van. 

Dead ahead, Spider-Man was clinging onto the remaining vehicle, whose doors remained firmly locked shut. He climbed around to the back of the car and grabbed hold of the handles, yanking with all his might. The doors tore away like tissue paper and bounced down the street. One shivering girl, one crying child, and a trio balking men greeted him on the other side. 

Three things happened in the next three seconds. 

First, quick as lightning, Spider-Man latched a web-line to the girl’s waist and whipped her out of the van, pulling a shriek from her lips as he flung her down the road. A web hammock unfurled beneath her from a perfectly timed, perfectly aimed web grenade, softening her landing and leaving her ruffled but safe. 

“Sorry!” Spidey shouted to her over his shoulder.

Next, a flash bomb went off inside the van, as loud as it was bright, catching the masked hero off guard. He cried out and clutched his eyes, giving the thugs the opportunity to strike. Unaffected by the blast—perhaps due to the creepy sunglasses they all wore—the largest of the men barreled forward and rammed two electrified batons square in the center of Spidey’s chest. 

Lastly, Spider-Man fell off the back of the van and struck the unforgiving pavement, rolling and tumbling before sprawling to a stop in the middle of a wide, bustling intersection. 

“Spidey!” Johnny gasped. The Human Torch rocketed ahead of the incoming traffic to scoop him off the street—seconds before a semi could stampede over his battered body. He extinguished his flames as much as he could to safely hold him and still stay airborne. The masked vigilante moaned in his arms, volts of electricity jittering through his muscles, hands kneading at his eye lenses. They were squinted into slits and fluttering out of control.

“Agh! Shit! Is that you, Torch? Dammit! We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Are you all right? Your eye things—they’re flipping out.”

“No kidding. Ugh. Now I have two very different but equally scarring stories to tell about getting flashed in Brooklyn. Still not sure which one hurt my eyes more, but this is certainly giving ‘old man in untied SpongeBob bathrobe’ a run for his money.”

“But you’re okay, right?”

“Mentally speaking? Absolutely not. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the horrors I bore witness to that bitter autumn day. All my remaining innocence, ripped away in a heartbeat. Curse you, old man in untied SpongeBob bathrobe: ruiner of childhoods.”

Worry and frustration boiled to the tip of Johnny’s tongue. “Would you stop making jokes for two seconds and just tell me if you’re all right?”

Startled, Spidey pulled his hands away from his eyes. The lenses were still pinched small and twitching, but gradually returning to normal. He stared at him in silence, tiny rivulets of blood running down his arms and leaping into the breeze. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Johnny added, the anger melting from his voice. “You can’t confess to me you crack stupid jokes to hide your fear then turn around five minutes later and try to use it against me. I’m not gonna let it slide.”

Spider-Man started to say something in response, but it died on his lips. Probably another preloaded wisecrack he had to stop himself from unconsciously retorting with. His scorch marks from before were now bisected by a fresh collection of scratches and road burns. The poor hero looked like he’d been thrown into a pit full of rabid, fire-breathing cats. 

“I…sorry,” he eventually mumbled, the artificial spark leaving his voice, head slightly hung. “Force of habit. Turning it off is like trying to make yourself stop blinking. Now I’m kinda regretting telling you about that. It’s like my constant, go-to thing.” He gave a frail, awkward laugh, then cleared his throat. “I’m fine, really. I just got stunned by the flash, and it gave them the chance to get a cheap hit in. Heightened senses also means heightened sensitivity, unfortunately. It was a shock to the system, but I’m okay.”

Johnny breathed out slowly, then set his jaw. “We’ve both nearly died way too many times today. I don’t think this ‘team-up’ thing is going so hot for either of us.” 

“Hey, at least we know we’re good at rescuing each other seconds before certain doom.”

“Certain doom that we got each other into,” Johnny added grimly. 

“Both of us would’ve gone after the kidnappers, whether we were together or alone,” Spidey insisted. “I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

Johnny hinted a smile. “Me too.”

Spider-Man’s gaze dropped to observe his current position: bundled in Johnny’s strong, protective arms. Suddenly bashful, he squirmed against his hold. “You, uh—you know you can put me down now, right? We’ve still got one more rescue to make.”

“I know,” Johnny answered, a grin lifting his lips, making no move to let him go. “You’re just so light and easy to carry. It’s like holding a little puppy. Or a newspaper. Or a handful of grapes. Or one of those sticky climbing toys you throw against the wall. Or—”

“Okay, got it, thank you,” Spider-Man grumbled. He shifted to escape his grip, then stopped suddenly, shooting a glance at the van up ahead. “Wait. That actually gives me an idea.”

“Really?” Johnny snickered. “Which part?”

He turned back to face him. “The throwing the sticky guy part. You’re going to fly as fast as you can towards the back of the van and throw me inside.”

Johnny blinked. “I’m sorry—what? Absolutely not!”

“I need to get between them and the kid!” Spidey explained. “This will catch the thugs by surprise and give me enough momentum to break through their wall of muscle and guns and poorly masked body odor.”

“What if they flash bang you again? Or worse?”

“I’ll be ready this time. Trust me.”

Johnny’s eyes flickered to the three brawny men crowding the cramped van and the obscured shape of the child huddled behind them. He swallowed, throat dry with uncertainty. 

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Johnny said. He fed the fire pulsing off his feet, the flames creeping up his legs and fanning across his torso, driving the two of them faster forward. “Just get the kid out of there, okay?”

Spider-Man nodded. “I will.”

As the fire consumed more and more of his body, Johnny released Spider-Man so the only part of him he was still hanging onto was his wrist. He dragged the masked hero underneath him, their speed climbing, the city streaking by. 

Once the goons spotted the heroes making their approach, they started chucking pinecone-sized objects in their direction. The first one hit the ground and exploded on impact directly beneath them, sending Johnny swerving sideways in terror. He leveled himself, gawking in disbelief. Grenades! he realized. They’re throwing goddamn grenades at us! Who the hell is selling these assholes grenades? Better yet—who’s giving them money to buy them? To make matters worse, a constant stream of bullets poured from the back of the van. Johnny wove to avoid the barrage of deadly projectiles: ducking and rolling and snaking left and right. It didn't take long to notice they were shooting at Spider-Man, not him. He had to swing the vigilante around like a red and blue pendulum to keep his narrow frame out of the gunmen's path. Chunks of concrete whizzed past the two teens as more and more explosions tore into the road.

“I’ll try to slow down the driver while you save the kid!” Johnny shouted.

“Okay!” Spidey hollered. “Ready? Throw me…now!”

With a grunt of effort, Johnny swung Spidey back then hurled him forward. The masked hero road the momentum perfectly, bellowing: “Special delivery, coming in hot!” as he flew into the van. Shrieks of surprise sounded from inside as Spider-Man plowed into them feet-first. Johnny whispered an anxious prayer for anyone who was listening: Please keep him safe. Then he soared to the front of the car, locking eyes with the frazzled man in the driver’s seat.

“Stop!” the Human Torch roared, flaring his flames to punctuate the demand. Instead, the driver screamed and floored it. A choked gasp punched out of Johnny’s chest as the van rammed into him. His top half flattened across the hood while his legs knocked against the grill. He grimaced and groaned, hoping the hit hadn’t fractured any of his ribs. 

“Jesus,” he coughed, flames flickering weakly. “That’s the exact opposite of what I said.” Shouts and gunshots and the sound of fists landing blows echoed from the back of the van. The whole vehicle bounced and shook, fresh dents buckling out of the frame every few seconds. He couldn’t see how the fight was going—only hear it and hope the masked hero was holding strong. He pushed up on his elbows, palms burning handprints into the paint, weighing his next approach. 

Then a man flew screeching from the car, sticking to the nearest streetlamp in a cocoon of webbing. A couple yells and fired rounds later, another thug tumbled from the back onto the street, coated in a layer of spider’s silk as thick as a sleeping bag, wriggling uselessly. Spider-Man is winning, Johnny realized, new strength surging through him. We’ve got this! Almost there!

Johnny clambered the rest of the way onto the hood, white-knuckled as the vehicle bucked and swerved. Maybe if he burnt through the van’s battery cables, he could end this wild car chase once and for all. But if he wasn’t precise enough, he ran the risk of blowing up the entire vehicle. Perhaps he could punch through the windshield and yank the driver out. Or counter their forward momentum by pushing the van backwards with all the power of his flames behind him. He had to act fast. He had to come up with something before—

HOOONK! The shrill warning gave Johnny only seconds to register the incoming disaster. A truck was pulling out in front of them on the left. The van was hurtling through a red light at full-speed. If he stayed put, he’d be crushed between the two vehicles. 

But what about Spidey and the kid?

He had no time to think. He kicked off the hood in a panic as the van struck the front of the truck. The van skidded in circles until the wheels lost traction with the road. Johnny sailed into an abandoned construction zone on the sidewalk, taking out a few traffic cones along the way. Debris spewed in every direction as the van crashed down the street, eventually groaning to a feeble stop. When the Human Torch rose off the gritty asphalt, he spotted the van on its side about fifty feet away, smoke streaming out of the engine. 

“Shit,” he hissed, rocketing off the ground. The top of the car had been crushed to the point that it blocked the opening to the back of the van. Spider-Man and the kid could be trapped inside, their heads bashed in as much as the vehicle. Johnny dropped behind the car and pulled at the jagged barrier with all his strength, the plastic shell of the van melting beneath his grip. He wasn’t moving fast enough.

“Spidey! Can you hear me? Please tell me you guys are okay!” 

No answer came. What if they were dead by the time he pried the car open? They could be bleeding out right now, their bodies twisted into unnatural shapes, their faces slack with shock. Were their hearts still beating? Were they breathing their final breaths? He tried to blink away his last moments with his mother, yet the images rallied to the forefront of his mind. The splashes of red mottling her skin, the crooked angle her neck was bent at, the lively spark fading from her eyes. 

“Answer me!” Johnny pleaded, clawing frantically at the mangled van. One of the pieces had softened enough for him to tear. As he ripped it away and flung it aside, a figure came into view—a person sprawled across the floor of the vehicle, moaning and still. Terror seized him, followed by crippling relief, then confusion. 

It was the last of the thugs. Thoroughly battered, probably concussed, but alive and likely to stay that way. Too beefy and bulky to be the webhead. Johnny’s arms fell to his sides. But if they aren’t here, then where—?

“Torchy!”

Numb, Johnny spun on his heels. At the end of the block, surrounded by overturned traffic cones and pot holes and smashed car bits, Spider-Man stood in the center of the street, holding the young boy in his arms. Although the masked hero was burned, bruised, and tremendously bloody, he was alive, and the child was, too. Spidey gave him a wave, and Johnny's heart soared. He blasted down the road, scrubbing the tears from his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Spidey asked. Johnny answered by dousing his flames and wrapping the vigilante into a lung-crushing hug. A startled squeak leapt from his throat, followed by a strangled laugh. Johnny squeezed him so hard and held him so close, he could hear the masked hero’s heart thumping inside his chest. 

“Ouch! Johnny!” Spider-Man giggled. “Easy! You’re gonna smoosh the kid!”

Even so, the Human Torch hugged him a couple seconds longer, only letting go after the child gave his head a shove. “Oh! Sorry!” he stammered. The boy whined and pouted his lips, burying his face back into the crook of Spider-Man’s neck. 

“He’s okay,” Spidey insisted. “Just scared and shaken.”

“That makes two of us,” Johnny said hoarsely. “I thought you guys were trapped inside the van! I thought you were dead!”

Spider-Man glanced at him in surprise. “Really? I guess it was hard to see from your angle. We got out right before the truck hit. I had warning tingles coming from pretty much every direction, but one that big was impossible to ignore.”

Johnny must’ve looked as ashen and haunted as he felt, because the masked hero changed his tune from bright and sunny to soft and reassuring. “We’re fine, all right? Everything’s okay.” He gestured to the chaos scattered around them. “We stopped the bad guys and got everyone out safe.”

The Human Torch clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze. “I hate car wrecks,” he said hollowly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Neither hero spoke for the next few moments, both of them mourning people who’d passed long ago. Then the kid slowly raised his head from Spidey’s shoulder, tears shining in his eyes. He looked about two with dark hair and skin like his dad. 

“Hey there, bud,” Spider-Man said gently, shifting the boy higher up his hip so he sat at his eye-level. “You doing okay? That was scary, huh? You were super brave, though! Avengers-level brave! We’re gonna get you back to your dad real soon, okay?”

At the mention of his father, the boy immediately burst into tears, scrunching up his hands into angry little fists. Johnny flinched back in alarm. He had no experience deescalating toddler meltdowns. Fortunately, Spider-Man stayed calm.

“Shhh, it’s okay! Hey! Watch this!” The masked hero raised his hand in front of the kid’s face, and a card appeared between his fingers—seemingly out of thin air. Then, just as quickly, he made another motion, and the card vanished. The little trick was enough to pique the boy’s interest and distract him from his sobbing. He stared at Spider-Man’s empty palm, sniffling softly, cheeks stained with tear tracks. Spidey faked a dramatic gasp.

“Where’d it go? What do you think? Wait a minute!” He reached behind his ear, wiggling his fingers against his neck as he did, and produced the card once again, saying: “Ah-ha! Here it is! You were hiding it!”

The boy’s hesitant smile transformed into shy giggles. He grabbed for the card, and Spidey let him take it. The softness of the scene was enough to melt Johnny’s heart. 

“You’re good with kids,” he observed.

Spider-Man shrugged. “Me-me babysits a lot, but it’s not so easy when I’m in costume. The mask tends to scare them.”

Johnny gestured to the card the boy was currently chewing on. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Antman showed me,” Spidey beamed. “That guy is weirdly good at close-up magic. There’s one more trick I can do. Let me see if I try—”

He held his palm up to his mouth, but cards suddenly spilled out of his hand, shooting off in random directions and fluttering to the ground. Spider-Man groaned in defeat as Johnny and the child laughed. 

“Did you mean to do that?” Johnny snickered.

“No. It was supposed to look like I was barfing them up. Guess I need to keep practicing.”

Johnny grinned at the giggling child. “The kid still liked it.”

Spidey bounced the boy in his arms, making him laugh even harder. Johnny watched the pair like a spectator at the movies: delighted and endeared yet detached from the moment. Cheering others up when they were at their lowest came so naturally to the masked hero. It was like another superpower of his. Johnny wasn’t sure if Spidey even understood the effect he had on those around him. He dismissed his own well-being and acted playful and calm even while in pain—all to make others happy and keep them safe. 

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Johnny said. He gave the vigilante a hardy clap on the back. It was meant to be a friendly love-tap, but he was surprised when Spider-Man jerked from his touch like he’d electrocuted him, releasing a sharp gasp. Frowning, Johnny retracted his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His gaze wandered down to his palm, which suddenly felt damp. The deep blue of his glove was drenched through with purple stains. It took him a moment to realize his hand was soaked in blood. 

Johnny’s eyes snapped up. A particularly dark section of Spider-Man’s suit stood out against the other lesions peppered across his body, smudged just below his rib cage. Up until now, the child had been blocking it. His abdomen had a puncture wound that was leaking a scary amount of blood down his midsection and his back. The fact that Spider-Man was acting so normal and plucky made the devastating injury difficult for Johnny’s mind to grasp. Slowly, his smile fell. 

“Spidey…?” he said, trying to read his unreadable stare. He pointed to the spot with his bloodstained fingers. “What is that? What happened? You’re dripping blood!”

The masked vigilante shushed him like a grouchy librarian. “Not in front of the kid!” he snapped. “I don’t want to freak him out any more than he already is!”

Johnny just stared at him. “You’re bleeding out in the street, and your biggest concern is not freaking people out? We need to get you to a hospital!”

“Shhh! Johnny!” Spider-Man spoke in a hushed, exasperated tone. “Avengers Tower has a fully stocked medical bay, all right? I’ll get myself fixed up there, no problem! It’s not a big deal!” He was talking at breakneck speed, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Not a big deal?” the Human Torch exclaimed. “What kind of masochistic bullshit are you on? You have a gaping wound in your side!”

“Johnny! You can’t say bullshit in front of kids!” 

“I think the gravity of the situation more than warrants it! Besides—you just said it, too!”

“Whatever! I’m telling you I’m fine, okay? I’ve been shot before!”

“You were shot?” Johnny spluttered, gripping the sides of his head in his hands. “What the actual fuck, man? When were you planning to tell me you had a bullet wound in your stomach? Who the hell did that to you? How long has it been there? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Before he could respond, the child erupted into violent sobs once again. Spider-Man sighed, rubbing the boy’s back with one hand and cradling his head with the other.

“Great. Now he’s crying again. Thanks a lot.”

Smoke fizzled from Johnny’s shoulders and fists. “I don’t understand how you’re acting so calm right now! You’ve been shot!”

A crash and a grunt from behind them made both teenagers turn their heads. The van’s driver had smashed through the window and tumbled out of the vehicle onto the street. He started booking it down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Hold this guy a sec,” Spidey said, handing Johnny the kid. 

“What? Wait—I don’t—” he began to protest. But suddenly the boy was in his arms, and Spider-Man was marching after the fleeing thug. “Spidey! Come back! I’m not a baby person!”

Spider-Man stopped beside the overturned van and aimed his wrist in front of him. He fired a web grenade down the block, planting it on the side of a car parked a few paces ahead of the thug’s trajectory. At just the right moment, the trap went off; webs exploded all over the kidnapper, pinning him to a trash can in a squirming, screaming heap. Spidey withdrew his arm and pressed a palm to his bullet wound, pinching his eyes shut with a groan of pain. Blood dribbled off his fingers onto the ground.

“Stop moving, Jesus Christ!” Johnny jogged up behind him, laying his free hand against Spider-Man’s chest. “You’re bleeding all over the road!”

“He was getting away,” the vigilante replied, voice a little more ragged, breaths a tad more strained. “I had to stop him.”

Johnny scanned the battered hero up and down. He could see the adrenaline seeping from his bloodstream in real time, giving way to his body’s true state of wounded exhaustion. His arms hung heavy at his sides. He was swaying a little on his feet. The hand holding his injury was saturated in blood. Johnny’s frustration persisted, but the sight of him so broken and pathetic singed every trace of it from his lips. He grabbed Spidey’s wrist and gave it a light squeeze. 

“For someone with dodging with powers, you’re awfully good at getting your ass kicked, you know that?” He shook his head in dismay. “Is this a regular thing for you? Getting beat half to death every time you go on patrol?”

The masked hero chuckled thinly. “Happens more often than I’d like to admit, but today’s ass beating was something else. My usual thugs aren’t armed like these guys. They knew my fighting patterns, how to counter my attacks, how to knock my senses out of whack. It’s like they were expecting me to come after them.”

Johnny nodded. “I think they were. They were aiming their guns at you specifically, like they were following orders from someone. The same someone who must be funding their operation; no regular street criminals are packing that kind of firepower.” He pressed the heel of his palm on top of Spidey's hand to help him stem the bleeding, pulling a shivery whimper from his lips. “I can’t believe how badly they hurt you.” 

“I couldn’t either,” he hissed through his teeth, “until I noticed the company name on the side of those vans.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, craning his head away from the child, who was trying to rip out fistfuls of his hair. “What do you mean?”

“Veles Taxi,” Spidey said, sparing a glance at his blood-soaked midsection. “It took me a while to realize where I recognized it from. It’s a company that’s owned and operated by the Russian mafia, who are in turn controlled by Kingpin.” He glared at the thug still bound to the trash can. He’d given up trying to break free of the webbing and had resigned himself to pitiful whimpering. “These kidnappers work for Wilson Fisk.”

The Human Torch scoffed. “Fisk? You mean that bald rich guy from Hell’s Kitchen? I didn’t know he was evil. I heard he was trying to win candidacy for New York’s next mayoral election.”

Spider-Man’s eye lenses bulged as wide as physically possible. “What? You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

“I saw it on the news a couple days ago. He even voiced his support for the Fantastic Four—said we were vital to keeping the city safe and that he wanted to work with us if he was elected.”

“That bastard,” Spidey snarled. “How could he…h-how could anyone…?”

He staggered suddenly, knees buckling beneath him. Johnny rushed to catch him, the wounded hero’s weight sagging into his chest. Spider-Man grappled sluggishly with Johnny’s arms, trying to lift himself back upright. The skin on his face that was visible through the cuts in his mask looked sweaty and pale. 

“M’fine,” he rasped, pushing him away. “Sorry, I—I’m fine. Tripped.”

“We have to get you some help,” Johnny said distraughtly. 

Seconds later, the NYPD came screeching onto the scene. Howling police cars surrounded them, bathing the teenagers in colorful flashing lights. A drizzle of relief settled over Johnny’s heart.

“Shit,” Spider-Man hissed.

“It’s okay,” the Human Torch assured him. “They can help you. We’ll ask them to give you a ride to Avengers Tower.”

“Liam!” 

A man stumbled out of one of the cop cars and charged through the barricade of police. It was the father they’d dragged from the dumpster—still grimy and bruised but buzzing with wild hope. The cops roared at him to stop, but he ignored them. He raced towards the superheroes in the center of the road, tears flooding his eyes. 

“Daddy!” the boy cheered, reaching out for him. Johnny handed the child to his father, who buried him in his arms and a million adoring kisses. 

“My son! My boy! My beautiful Liam!” he wept. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

The reunion inundated Johnny with indescribable warmth. If Sue were here, she’d be scrambling to get pictures taken, people posed, interviews lined up. It was refreshing to save the day, to return a stolen child to his father, and simply bask in the joy of that triumph, instead of exploiting the moment for fan content. 

The dad lifted his face from his son’s dark curls and met Johnny’s gaze with an endlessly grateful smile. “Thank you,” he sniffled. “Thank you both. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

“It was all this guy,” Johnny said, wrapping an arm around the wounded vigilante, who was fighting to stay on his feet. “Spider-Man’s the one who got him out of there. I just burned some shit, flipped a van or two.”

The father turned to the masked hero nervously. “Thank you, Spider-Man. Please take care of yourself. That looks really bad.”

Spider-Man gave him a bloody thumbs up. “Yep. That’s up next on my to-do list.” His voice sounded gravelly, like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “Make sure you get yourselves checked out, too. And give Liam all the chocolate pudding he wants for being so brave. He t-told me it’s his favorite.”

The dad chuckled. “Will do.”

As father and son were led to an ambulance, the cops approached the two teens on high alert. Johnny slung Spidey’s arm over his shoulder and started to guide him towards the police, but the masked hero dragged his feet. 

“Johnny…” he grated out. “I can’t. They’re not going to help. I have to go.”

“What?” Johnny exclaimed. “Of course they will. They saw you save the kid. Plus, you’re with me. I work with them all the time. It’ll be okay.”

“Mr. Storm!” the cop at the front of the wedge of officers called. “Step away from Spider-Man and stand aside!”

Johnny approached the policewoman with the masked hero in tow, throwing her a wave. “Chief Yuri! Nice to see you! Loving the new haircut! Really complements your bone structure!” He patted the side of the vigilante’s head, which was slightly drooped towards the ground. “My friend Spider-Man here got shot by those thugs and needs a ride to Avengers Tower for medical assistance! Could one of your officers give us a lift?”

“Stop where you are!” Chief Yuri demanded, fingering the gun in her holster. “Don’t make me ask again, Storm! Drop the vigilante and stand down!”

Johnny froze in place, unfamiliar fear spearing through him. He swept his gaze across the sea of icy stares and glinting badges. His grip tightened around Spidey’s waist. 

“What’s your problem?” he snapped. “Can’t you see he needs help? He just risked his life to save two hostages! Why are you acting like he’s the bad guy here?”

“Please, Johnny,” the injured hero implored. “I can get back on my own. Just let me go.” He tugged weakly against Johnny’s hold. The Human Torch pinned him to his side and clasped his wrist in his bloody fingers.  

“Spider-Man is under arrest for unlawful vigilantism, arson, theft, destruction of public property, and too many other things for me to list out right now. He’s not worth the trouble, Storm. Hand him over and step aside, now.”

Johnny’s tongue tasted like lead. Even when people witnessed Spidey’s heroics firsthand, they still rallied against him. How could they be so blinded by lies? Why couldn’t they see him the way Johnny did? What possessed the world to love the Human Torch so fondly and hate Spider-Man so mercilessly?

The officers pressed in around them, guns at the ready. The masked vigilante was fading by the second. Johnny’s hands were slicked with his blood. He stared down the police chief, fury churning in his gut.

“If I leave with him, will you shoot me?”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “Don’t do anything rash, kid. You’re a hero. He’s a criminal. I’d hate for that to get twisted.”

“And I’d hate to think how my fans would react to the NYPD killing their favorite superhero,” Johnny countered. “My teammates, too.”

“At this rate, they may not be your fans for long.”

Johnny bared his teeth, then laughed. “The chief of police, trying to lecture me about good PR. That’s rich. You’re the ones the public barely trusts. Your image depends on me smiling and shaking hands with your officers like they actually help us instead of just getting in the way. You need my endorsement, but I don’t need yours.”

“He doesn’t mean that!” Spider-Man blurted out. “I’m sure you’re all v-very good at your jobs and want to stay friends with the Fantastic Four and wow chief that haircut does frame your face well and—mmph!”

The Human Torch smothered him into silence. “Hey! Can it, Webhead!”

The block fell eerily quiet. Spider-Man spat muffled curses into his palm. Chief Yuri shook her head. 

“You’re making a mistake, Storm.”

Johnny tilted his chin towards the sky. “I’m leaving.”

Bright yellow flames jetted cautiously from his feet, lifting the two of them off the ground. Johnny held the police chief’s gaze, daring her to stop him. Yuri’s face twisted with frustration, but her hand lifted reluctantly from her holster. 

“Hold your fire,” she demanded. “Clear the street.”

A tiny crumb of his anxiety eased. Johnny hooked an arm underneath Spidey’s knees and whisked him fully off his feet, ignoring his protests as he cradled his spindly shape close to his chest. He looked and felt so fragile—and this time, it was true. Fire encased his lower half and carried them above the city, away from the leering cops, the wreckage, and out of harm’s path. Skyscrapers whisked beneath them, followed by the dark maw of the river. Johnny braced his hand against the exit wound on Spider-Man’s back so both sides of the bullet hole had pressure on them. A ragged moan rose in his throat.

“I got you, okay? I’m taking you home.”

“You d-didn’t have to do that,” Spider-Man said, voice choked with pain. “Now the cops will hate you, too.”

“Let them,” Johnny growled. “I never liked those bastards, anyway. ACAB, am I right?”

The masked hero managed a dismal laugh. “Yeah. Fuck the police.”

The moon hung low over the East River. Spider-Man’s head rested just beneath Johnny’s shoulder, close enough for him to lean down and plant a kiss on his temple. The thought made him blush, and he discarded it immediately. The audacity of his emotions never ceased to astound him. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Spidey murmured. His eye lenses blinked slowly, half-closed and drooping. “This w-wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“As far as team-ups go, it was a pretty badass evening. Dangerous criminals, mid-car-chase battles, a son reunited with his father, pissed off cops. As soon as you’re healed, I’m crashing every last one of your late night patrols from here on out.”

The hand Spider-Man wasn’t clutching his wound with tightened its grip on Johnny’s shoulder. “Thanks for s-sticking up for me,” he said. 

Butterflies danced up Johnny’s throat. “Oh—of course. How could I not?” He swallowed as many of them down as he could. “You risked your life to save those people. You took a bullet to protect them from those monsters. I am now and forever officially crowning you the Ultimate King Bad Boy. Congratulations, your majesty.”

When Spider-Man didn’t respond, Johnny glanced down in surprise. The masked hero’s eye lenses had slipped shut, and his cheek was squished against his sternum. At first, Johnny marveled at how cute and sleepy he looked. Like a baby kitten snoozing in his arms. Then he remembered he was on the brink of bleeding out, and gave the vigilante a violent shake.

“Whoa! Hey! Wakey-wakey, Webhead! I know you must be tired, but you can’t fall asleep yet!”

Spider-Man jerked back to consciousness, then scrunched into a moaning little ball, gripping his bloody torso. “Ugh. No fair. You’re the one who woke me up at crack of ass o’clock this morning and didn’t let me nap after the p-power demos…”

Johnny deflated with relief. “We’re almost there, okay? Just hang on a little bit longer. And once we get you all fixed up, I’ll let you sleep as late as you want tomorrow. No early morning wake-up calls.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

Spidey slumped against his chest with a pitiful whimper. “It’s so hard,” he whined. “My eyes won’t stay open.”

Johnny pursed his lips in thought. “Why don’t you tell me about something sciencey? Go on one of your nerdy little rants. That ought to keep you awake.”

The masked hero’s eye lenses flicked wide, blinking twice. “Does it annoy you when I talk about that kind of stuff?” he asked timidly. It broke Johnny’s heart when he realized he was being genuine. It was a challenge not to immediately drown him in words of affirmation. 

“It pisses me off that you’re so much smarter than me,” Johnny chuckled. He gazed across the shimmering expanse beneath them and the blue-black endlessness above, unable to meet his gaze. “But no, it doesn’t annoy me. I like listening to people talk about the things they’re passionate about. Even if I don’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

Spider-Man hummed in sleepy acknowledgment, eye lenses sinking closed again. Johnny gave him a second shake, this one a tad more gentle than the first. 

“Come on, bud. Tell me more about your webbing. You said it was hard to make, right? Walk me through it. Every nitty-gritty detail.”

He yawned into Johnny’s shoulder. “Can I do it with my eyes closed?”

“As long as you’re awake and talking.”

“Mm’kay,” he mumbled. He snuggled a little deeper into his embrace. “Let’s see. The hardest thing was f-finding the right balance between strength, malleability, and stickiness. The tensile strength of natural spider silk is 1.75 GPa, which means it’s really strong, but not flexible enough for my purposes. 1.0 gigapascals wound up being the sweet spot. Load-bearing and strong, able to withstand extreme amounts of weight and stress, but with a little stretch to it. I borrowed some materials from my school to synthesize my first formula. I started with salicylic acid, toulene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, and potassium carbonate, but something was missing…”

He rambled in his arms the rest of the way to the tower, nodding off a couple more times mid-sentence, forcing Johnny to softly rouse him. He prompted him questions when his tangents slowed, asking what this word meant, what that compound did, why he decided to try this thing instead of something else. He listened and held him and tried not to think about the warm, wet stickiness of the vigilante’s blood on his hands. He listened, and decided it was enough. 

This was enough. Just being around him. Being his friend. Bearing witness to his goofy, reckless, motor-mouth way of moving through the world. Watching him throw himself in harm’s way to protect others; defending him from those who sought his destruction. Coaxing out his radiant laugh and sunning himself in the halo of light that gleamed off the webhead like a warm, perpetual aurora. Learning his quirks and passions and fears. Fighting by his side. Overriding his self-sacrificial tendencies. Teasing, taunting, poking fun. Being super awesome superhero besties, and nothing more. 

Johnny Storm wasn’t allowed to fall for Spider-Man. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

But what to do with this abundance of affection with no place to go?

Well.

If he couldn’t love him, perhaps the world could love him for him.  

In that moment, with the wounded hero prattling drowsily in his arms, Johnny vowed he would make the universe see Spider-Man for who he was. No more deceptive headlines, no more twisted narratives, no more blatant lies. No more Daily Bugle tabloids running unopposed; no more pacifying Sue or their investors. Spidey was a hero, and Johnny Storm was going to prove it. Once the public got a glimpse of the real friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, they wouldn’t be able to resist it. They’d have no choice but to fall in love. 

Avengers Tower rose like a beacon on the horizon. Johnny Storm bore the masked hero across the city determinedly. 

It was enough. 

It was enough.

It had to be enough. 

[rey-in-red]

Elain did a thing

Note: This is the first thing I have been able to write in 6 months. I have no idea where the idea came from, but here it is. Enjoy.

---

She marched into the room.

“I did a thing.” 

Nesta looked up from her curled up position in the plush red chair.

“What?” she encouraged her to continue, looking up at her younger sister. 

Not quite sure how to tell her sister what she had done, Elain simply lifted up her shirt and flashed her boobs to her older sister.

Nesta rose from the chair slowly, the book in her lap falling to the floor, completely forgotten. 

Without saying anything to Elain, Nesta simply screamed, “FEYRE!”

Hurried steps sounded in the hallway and the youngest Archeron came running into the living room of the apartment Nesta and Feyre shared. Feyre was panting from her short run, her head moving in all directions trying to locate what had caused Nesta’s outburst. “What’s happening? Where’s the fire?”

Nesta just gestured toward Elain’s chest, thinking it would explain everything. Which it did.

Her jaw proceeded to drop when she finally spotted the two metal barbells going through each of Elain’s nipples. 

“Like I said, I did a thing.” Elain gnawed on her lower lip, waiting for at least some kind of verbal reaction. “What do you think?”

Fortunately, she didn't need to wait long, because Mor chose that time to drop by for a visit. 

“Hey, Fey!” She yelled in her thick British accent.

At the sound of the blonde, all three Archeron sisters turned at once. Feyre’s jaw still halfway to the floor, Nesta’s arm still in the air and Elain’s still raised over her boobs.

Mor jerked her chin at Elain’s chest. “Nice.”

Snapping out of her freezed position, Elain quickly lowered her shirt. A blush creeping up her neck. “Thanks.”

Turning back to her sisters, her eyebrows high. “So, thoughts?”

“Well… uhm… they are… eh…” Feyre stammered.

“It’s… eh…” Nesta answered, still looking a little confused at the choice.

“The words you’re looking for are ‘fucking hot’, girls.” Mor said from the couch, a grin on her lips. “Az is going to lose his absolute mind when he sees them.”

This only caused Elain blush further. 

“Well, that’s the thing…” She gave them a sheepish smile and a little shrug.

“Oh my God.” Nesta muttered, sitting back down in the plush chair. “You didn’t-”

“Hold on.” Feyre interrupted, holding up a hand. “You didn’t tell Azriel, your boyfriend of almost 2 years, who you also live with, that you were having your nipples pierced.”

“Maybe…”

Mor almost rolled off the couch laughing. “Oh, this is bloody brilliant!”

“I just have to ask this, Elain, because I feel like at least one of us has to ask you this.” Nesta asked from her spot, her book in her lap once more. “What exactly was going through your head when you decided this?”

“Well, I’ve always liked piercing-”

“No shit.” Feyre snorted from besides Mor on the couch, having settled down next to her best friend.

Both of Azriel’s ears were heavily pierced, featuring both studs and rings. Elain herself, having an industrial piercing in her right ear and two in both her earlobes. 

“And while I could have gotten more in my ears, I wanted something a little different. I’d had this idea for a while. So with Az out of town this week, I thought ‘Why not now?’ Plus they need time to heal and by the time he’ll get back on Sunday, they properly won’t be as sore, so maybe if I’m lucky…” She trailed off, giving a little shrug. “You know.” 

“Like I said, he’s going to lose his mind.” Mor repeated.

—

After an extremely long week that seemed to go on forever, Azriel wanted nothing more than to get home and cuddle up next to his girl on the couch. 

Preferably naked.

However, it would seem life had another plan.

Starting with coming home to an empty apartment. 

Opening the front door, he called out. “Hey babe, I’m home!” 

Usually, when he had been away for a business trip, even if he would have just been gone for a night, it would follow by the sound of telltale soft pattern of Elain’s footsteps, as she would jump into his arms and give him a long, drugging kiss.

Not tonight, though. 

He walked into the bedroom. “Lain?”

Just then he heard a “No!” and something hitting the floor from the entry hall. 

Walking towards the front door, he was blessed by the sight of Elain Archeron, brown paper bags around her feet, wearing jeans that looked like they were painted and a beige coat, looking disappointed at his suitcase. 

“You know, I could leave again and come back in an hour and a half. You don’t exactly sound happy to see me.” 

Elain’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice. A smile instantly forming on those perfect lips. “I had a whole plan.”

A smile identical to hers formed on his lips. “I got an earlier flight.” He said, starting to walk closer to her.

“I was gonna make you lasagna. Your favorite.”  She smiled, likewise walking toward him.

“I finished my last meeting with one of the vendors earlier.” He stopped in front of her, smiling down at the love of his life. Still not sure how he had gotten her to agree to be with him, let alone gotten her to agree to take a chance on him. “Besides, I missed you.”

“I missed you too. A lot.”

“Then kiss me, woman.” 

Tilting her chin up, grabbing a hold of his black overcoat and pulling his lips to hers.

This was it. 

The only thing that mattered most to him. 

Her. 

Even if his tattoo chain crashed and burned tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter. As long as he had her, none of it mattered.

Closing his arms around her waist, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Taking a deep inhale of her jasmine and honey scent, he squeezed her tight to his body. Like he did everyday he came home, the scent of her grounding him.

Only thing was, normally Elain would melt against him and let out a happy sigh. It was almost like a ritual for them. But now her entire body tensed, and she let out a pained whimper. 

Immediately he pulled back and looked her over. Trying to detect where she was hurt. Something had caused that heart wrenching sound.  

“Babe, are you okay?” He asked, worry clear in his voice.

Her eyes darted to the side, before looking at him again. It was quick, but he still caught it. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” She gave him what she probably thought was a convincing smile.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Elain, we have been together for almost 2 years. If I weren’t able to tell when you’re not telling me the truth by now, then I don’t deserve that “World’s Best Boyfriend’ mug, you gave me for my birthday.”

The mug had been a gag gift, but he took the title seriously.

He could tell she was fighting a smile now. The slight curved at the corner of her mouth, the little crinkle by the corner of her eyes. 

“Okay. So, I did a thing.”

“The last time you said that to me, you came home with a tattoo.” She was full on smiling by now. “Not that I don’t love that tattoo.”

The tattoo in question was a simple rose on the back of her neck. Every morning he work before he would kiss the flower before getting up and get ready for work.

“It was supposed to be a surprise and I had hoped that they would be so sore anymore. But aren’t healing at quickly at I had hoped and-”

“Elain, what did you do?” He interrupted her ramble. 

But instead of just telling him, she took off coat, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor and lifted up her top, exposing her chest. 

And there they were.

Elain’s nipples, not something hadn’t seen before, in fact he quite enjoyed the sight of them. Except now with a metal barbell in each of them. 

“Fuck.” He said, his voice sounding like he had swallowed a handful of gravel. 

“You like?” Elain asked, a teasing slipping into her voice. 

“It’s fucking hot.” 

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s what Mor said too.”

 That snapped him out of his hypnotic state. “What? Mor saw your nipples? Why did Morrigan see your nipples?”

Elain told the grand tale of the previous Tuesday telling her new piercings to her sister and Mor walking in while his girlfriend was holding up her shirt.

They never did get around to make lasagna that night. They ended up ordering pizza instead.

They did cuddle on the couch, though not naked as Azriel had hoped, but him holding a cold compress on Elain’s chest the help the pain.

It was still pretty good night.