#you don't need to send me any (I just like making them)

[fruitiesss]

bob reynolds NSFW alphabet !

as requested lol, i listened to the people and the people want bob smut.

MINORS + AGELESS DNI. SMUT.

send requests in! characters are on my pinned posts, just give me a hot minute to write them ^^

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Bob's very into cuddling and being close in general, he's also a human heater so if you're not cold you're gonna have to push him off until you are (his pouty face ensues). If it was really messy, he'll run a bath and get in with you situated on his lap. He keeps water bottles by the bed and isn't above running quickly to the store to grab some food if you need it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Bob likes his hands. They're almost constantly in use because he likes to fidget and read, so he's more than capable with them, and he loves the way you come apart under them.

He'd like your thighs and hips, it's something to hold onto while he fucks into you or when you ride him. He also loves the squishiness of them, much better than any stress relief toys you buy him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Bob's never been in the place mentally (or physically) to risk having a kid at his age. He's always used condoms or pulled out when he's been in quick hook-ups before (though not many, he's quite inexperienced). You would have to sit him down and discuss kids with him first, but even then he's still hesitant and nervous.

He prefers to cum on your stomach or back if you'd let him. He cleans it up fast though, knowing the stickiness when it dries is less than desirable.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He rarely watches porn - why would he need to, he has you! - but does when you're away on a long mission or a trip. He takes inspiration from it and tries to incorporate a position or kink he'd watched that he thought you might like.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) This boy is inexperienced. As I said before, he's had a few hook-ups here and there but he's never been interested enough to learn. You're gonna have to teach him a few things and he is so eager to please you in any way you want. He's incredibly good at following orders.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) COWGIRL. FUCKING RIDE HIM HE WILL CUM INSTANTLY. Just the way he can see you - all of you - makes him harder than a fucking rock. Ugh, this man will have his hands anywhere, eyes half lidded in pure bliss as he watches you bounce.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Bob's a mix of both. He's serious when he's concentrating, trying to reach the spot that makes your toes curl, but he laughs and jokes with you when he's not. He can't take himself seriously and neither can you, it feels so good but it's also really funny.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He's never taken care of himself properly before. Now that he's clean, he probably trims a little down there so it's not completely unbearable but he won't be smooth or clean shaven. He dyed his hair blonde ONCE and nobody will let him forget it, so YES the carpet matches the drapes thank you. He also doesn't mind if you shave or not. Hair is natural and he understands that, he actually prefers if you don't shave, as long as you're clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Sex for him is all about connection. He's done the unfeeling, unromantic stuff before and he hates it. You are his everything and he needs you to know that. He's complimenting you with every other word, letting you know how much he loves you or how good you make him feel. He is all about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He rarely jacks off because you're right there all the time. Though when you're out of town or on a long mission he will do it a couple of times just to keep himself sated until you can come back. He's needy for you always.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) BOB LIKES HIS HAIR BEING PULLED. Grab it by the roots and pull and he will give you the sweetest sound you've ever heard. He loves praise too, call him a good boy and he's already on his knees for you so he can do anything you want. He's a switch 100%, will do anything you want but likes to be dominated sometimes.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He likes being in bed with you, he's very hesitant to do anything in public because you're his to see and he's yours to see. He will if you really want to, but he won't like it. When he's really needy, he'll corner you wherever you are in the tower until you take him up to one of your rooms, with him following like a dog on a leash.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You. If you're in the mood, he's in the mood. If he sees you, he's in the mood. Wearing something revealing? He's on you. You opened the floodgates when you first laid with him now lie in the bed you made.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He's not into any kind of bodily fluid (other than cum, obviously) or anything where he hurts you or you hurt him. He refuses to lay a hand on you. Unless it's a soft slap. Impact play is a big no no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He likes to get his dick sucked. He loves it, actually. You look so pretty on your knees with his cock in your mouth. He prefers giving, though! He wasn't so good at it when he started out but he has definitely gotten much better since he started out and he is a MUNCH. This man will spend hours between your legs if he can, his intense eyes staring into yours.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Bob as a person is very soft and sweet despite everything he's been through. He would take it slow and sweet with you, afraid to break you as if you were made of glass. He could take you fast and rough but he wouldn't be able to keep it up.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn't like them. Too fast, it blurs in his head. He needs to know you're satisfied before he can leave you. He will take you for a quickie if you really, really beg him and only if you're in a place where you can't get to your beds.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He likes to experiment with anything you bring to him. He'll do anything (other than his nos) at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Thanks to his powers, he has very good stamina. He'll last about 6 rounds with water breaks in between but if you wanted more, he will give you more. Anything for you. He'd last the whole day for you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He's never seen the need for them. His hand did the job just fine when he was low on money (or needed the money for drugs) and even now he doesn't see the need for toys. He doesn't get jealous if you have any toys either, he'll use them on you if you're into that.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He thinks he's a tease but really he gives in whenever you so much as pout at him or whine. He's so smitten for you and wants to provide everything you need.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Bob will be quiet at first, biting into his hand to stifle any of his moans or grunts so he can fully hear the beautiful noises he elicits from you. But that's when he's on top. Get him submissive and that boy is LOUD for you. Pull his hair and he WILL moan. Overstimulate him and he WILL whine.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He likes to bite and suck marks into your skin. Especially in those spots that are hard to cover up. It gives him a sense of pride, knowing that he did that to you. He's also very bitey in general. Very cute.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He's not small at all but he'd not HUGE. I'd say he's 6 inches, nice and thick. Knows how to use it once he gets the hang of sex in general. It curves slightly to the left and has a nice pink tip, cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) This guy is super needy. He's ready for you at any time, you just need to ask and he's already pouncing on you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He only lets himself fall asleep once he's sure you're comfortable enough to. He is very sleepy after, though. He's falling asleep as he's scrubbing you in the bath, head slumping forward onto your shoulder until you nudge him. Once you're taken care of though, he's out like a light on the bed.

[motthe]

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds [part iii]

ཐིཋྀ wrote this part very late and half asleep so bear with any mistakes or things that could've been written better

warnings: child abuse and threat of death, mental health crisis, heavy mentions of sexual assault, lots of violence and panic, one moment where this feels a bit like a crack fic but shock does weird things so yeah

masterlist | ao3

A week and a half went by.

The mental training wasn't easy by any means. Every shame room you had to coerce Bob to drag you into was not without its own consequences to your own mental health, but each time you were able to show Bob how to detach. How to accept the pain, understand it, and ultimately let it pass.

The problem was, you had steps ingrained in you from years of therapy. Bob had nothing but his own hands holding him together.

Bringing him into your psyche with a firm grip, you allowed him to see your own broken days of youth. There was a time you'd both lived on the streets. But where he fell into drugs, you were tangled up in petty thievery and coercion of strangers giving you a place to stay and warm food.

“By fifteen I could insert memories or mess with them,” you'd told him over lunch. “It was enough to get people to trust me.”

“Better than a meth-crazed chicken,” he grumbled, still very much beside himself that you had managed to slip you both into that particular memory. 

“Yeah, wasn't too bad until I screwed with the wrong person.” The cold tone had surprised both of you. It took a moment to wave the dark cloud out from over you—a story for another time. “Look we all have shit days, but we can outgrow them.”

You allowed him to walk through some old therapy sessions to get a taste of the environment. Dr. Arlington had been of monumental help to you and you hoped, with Bob's consent, she could be the same for him. While it had been some time since you'd seen her, you knew she could be trusted around super people and their psychological problems.

“I can't help you with the underlying issues. I wish I could,” you sighed, making sure to keep pace with Bob as you walked. It had been a nice day and as much as the man was a homebody, you pushed him to get some fresh air at least once a day. The public gardens nearby were usually peaceful in the earlier hours and he'd agreed to have easier lessons here for today, which mainly meant building up walls and you breaking them down.

“I know I need therapy,” he murmured, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “But what if we start talking about something and I snap?”

That's the part I'm helping you with, you assured, smiling as he blinked and worked to shake you out of his head. “Better,” you said. A little light came back into his eyes.

“I can section off pieces of your powers,” you continued, “but only the psychic parts and not for long given your strength.”

His slate blue gaze skated the grooves in the sidewalk, tongue working inside his cheek. It popped as he sighed, a breeze sending little hairs across his forehead. “Everything feels like a risk.”

“Life is a risk, constantly,” you huffed, both of you pausing as a flock of pigeons flew by to land in the center green. Perfect timing.

You shouldered your bag around to grab the bag of cooked rice within, guiding Bob towards the nearest bench. It wasn't until he was watching the birds eat that you finished your earlier statement.

“The best part is when you don't have to take risks alone. Little less scary.” A jogger going by scattered the birds but they quickly swarmed your feet again. “And you can trust your team for that. And hopefully me too with a bit more time.”

You caught Bob staring as you scattered another handful of rice. He didn't turn away even when you hummed in question.

“How can you be so nice?” he mumbled.

You just laughed because he made it easy to be kind, but that part he didn't see.

By the end of the first month, Bob was scheduled and going to therapy twice a week. You drove him there and back, always in the next room with a gentle presence at the border of his consciousness in case he grew to be too stressed. If he ever felt out of control, you were there to shield him.

Better yet, Dr. Arlington adored him, but that she told you in confidence as you caught up over the phone.

“You're calming,” Bob told you, looking cozy in the corner of your favorite café.

It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon after his fourth therapy session. He'd been a man of few words today when you picked him up. You hadn't pushed, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and a new sweater adorning him. It was all muted stripes and fall tones. The weather had gotten colder and while you hated to be chilly the aesthetic fit him alarmingly well.

“Am I?” you asked, setting his tea in front of him. “It’s still a little hot. Be careful.”

“You don't think so?” He was getting a lot better at holding eye contact in these quiet conversations between lessons.

“I dunno,” you hummed, popping the cap off your drink. The steam left your chin sticky as you blew into it. “I'm happy you find me calming. I feel like a mess most days.”

“You're really put together from where I'm standing,” he mumbled through a smile and the soft jab at himself left you brave enough to nudge his foot under the table, passing looks that would've felt too much at the Watchtower. Too big.

He grabbed the door on your way out, your arms brushing. Even through your clothes, you felt his warmth and the sudden need to inch a bit closer. A bit deeper. 

Don't. The warning was distant. A ripple in the ocean of your mind. Don't do that. You have to be an anchor.

You shut your eyes and took a breath before thanking him, keeping space between you as you returned to the car.

It was late when you shot up in bed, every hair on your body singing at the sense of wrongness in the air. There hadn't been a nightmare and reaching out with your mind, you found no others in the vicinity of your apartment.

Focus. You gripped the bedsheets under you, slowing your breath and closing your eyes. Something was wavering at the edge of your consciousness, whipping like a red flag at the coast. You tried to pinpoint it, but the problem was too far away. Just on the horizon. 

Your eyes snapped open.

“Bob,” you whispered, springing from bed.

Your phone blared against your bedside table as your feet touched the floor. Buchanan trailed across the screen.

“Bucky? I'm on the way,” you said, grabbing your bag and shoving your feet into sneakers by the door.

“Damn, you feel it from there?” Bucky scoffed.

“Give me a report,” you demanded, scaling the stairs to the ground floor. Thank God you were only on the second level. “What happened?”

“Not sure. Walker was up and found a wall of black where Bob reads. Yelena already tried to go in.”

“Tried?”

“Tell her to fucking hurry!”

That sounded like her.

“Usually we get transported in the weird memory room things, but it's not pulling us in. On the bright side—”

“Don't talk about a ‘bright side’ when there's literally an entire part of the room blacked out!”

That sounded like Ava.

“—it's not spreading,” Bucky finished as a roar broke through the speaker. “Don't throw a fucking chair at it!”

“I break through darkness to save Bob!”

“We don't need to be breaking anything! You’re gonna piss it off!”

“You just throw shield at it, why not chair?!”

Shit, you'd just ran a red light. Well, whatever. This was more important than—you glanced at the dashboard clock—4AM traffic laws.

“I'll be there as fast as I can. In the car now.”

“Okay. I'll unlock the elevator for you. Alexei quit—!”

The call went dead. You tossed your phone into the passenger seat and floored it.

The minutes went by in flashes. You didn't stop to find a parking space or grab your purse. You shoulder checked one of the sliding glass doors when they failed to open fast enough off and slammed into the elevator that was open and waiting.

Panting up a storm, the floor had barely begun to rise when something kicked against your mental barrier. The psychic blow had you careening back against the wall, gasping as you fought to hold them intact.

“Hurts. Hurts. I don't want to be here. Stop yelling. Please. Don't hurt them. I always ruin everything. Stop. Please.”

“Oh, Bob,” you choked, hand going straight to your chest. Even through your shield you could hear his thoughts screaming out of the void. Every word was distraught, beating against you like armored fists. You wanted to let him in, open your arms and wrap them around him and show him he wasn't alone. Whatever he was seeing wasn't real.

Hearing the ding of the elevator, you ran head first as the doors opened and about crashed into Ava.

“Sorry!” you gasped out, scanning the room. It took less than a second to spot the clouds of ink seeping from Bob's book nook. The rest of the team was huddled on the outskirts, arguing before they turned at your entrance.

“I thought you were helping him!” Yelena yelled at you as you approached.

“I'm doing my best. Healing isn't linear!” you yelled right back, sweating through your tee and moving towards the darkness.

Bucky intercepted before you could reach out for it. He wore the wartorn look of a leader as his metal fingers clutched your elbow.

“Let's stop and think about this for a sec,” he grunted.

“If you can't get in I can try to force my way in.” You looked at him, eyes watering, “Please. I can feel him. He's in pain.”

“What, we're supposed to just send her in there alone?” Walker snapped. “It took all of us to pull him out last time.”

“Last time it snatched us, but this? This is different,” Yelena hissed, running her hands back over her hair. Her piercing eyes landed on you. “If you can figure out a way to get us in, we can help him.”

“I'll try, but I can't just pull you all into his psyche. Your minds—they don't move the same,” you explained in a rush.

“What the fuck is a sigh-key?” Walker grumbled.

Bucky let go, pointing a harsh finger over your shoulder. You turned to find Alexei rolling his eyes and letting go of the couch.

“Whatever, just do what you can,” Yelena said and maybe you made a face or maybe she noticed herself how cruel her tone was becoming but she added, softer, “please.”

Nodding, you ushered them back towards the elevator and double checked your mental shields as you stood at the precipice of the darkness. There was nothing beyond it, just a wall of rippling smoke.

“Okay,” you whispered, listening to the stream of thoughts pouring out. “I’m coming, Bob.”

One slip of your shield was all it took. There was a resounding THUMP as your physical body was wrenched out of reality. Your feet hit a new floor, knees buckling as you crashed down breathless.

Okay, guess that's letting me in. You'd been in numerous shame rooms, had felt the mental landscape like any other space you would create for yourself in meditation. This was one step further as your heartbeat rose to your throat. He brought all of me into his psyche.

The amount of energy that would take—it was far more similar to Ava with how she could phase out of one room and into another. You could link someone to your mind, show them everything, speak to them but you couldn't bring them in, not like this.

You knew Bob was powerful, but this was on a whole other level.

A door opened, lighting up the space you occupied. The figure of your mother was backlit as the hall light stretched into your childhood bedroom.

No. Fuck, not this one again. She walked straight by you, humming a song that had chills breaking down your spine. You tried to mute the scene and found you had no control as you had once had before. Now it blocks me.

Your toddler-self turned over in her bed, blinking wearily as your mother sat down next to her. “Mama?”

You shook your head, hating how hard the floor was against your hands and knees as you pushed off it and towards the door. Your body crashed against it, hands smacking over the fake hallway.

“Bob?” you called loudly, reaching out with your mind and wincing at the onslaught. His voices echoed and bounced every which way here. Bob, it's me. Where are you?

“I'm sorry, baby, it's time to go,” your mother whispered and you refused to turn around, but you could feel the phantom touch of her hand brushing back your hair.

“Go where?”

Bob! Can you hear me? Where are you?

You turned from the fake hall and sprinted towards the window, attempting to open it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your mother's hand settle over your little self's throat.

“It'll be better, I promise,” she whispered, sniffling.

“Bob!” you screamed, banging on the glass.

“(Name)?”

You jerked your head up at the sound of him in your head and noticed movement in the window's reflection. You recognized that sweater.

Whipping your head around, you found that same fake hall before turning back. You could just make out his horrified expression as he found you through the window. Bob! I'm here!

You blocked out the sounds of little legs thrashing against a bed and the hysterical crying of your mother as you backed up a couple of steps.

This wasn't real anymore. You were done with this place.

Yelling, you ran and threw yourself into the window. The wooden frame splintered as glass shattered. Halfway through, gravity shifted as your body ripped backwards. You saw your legs above you a split second before your upper back hit cold, wet ground.

A crumpled mess, you whimpered at the aches building in your body before noticing your old bedroom hanging above you. The door opened to your mother's outline once more.

“Come back,” she called, hands reaching out. “It'll be better, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, turning over broken glass shards. “Oh God dammit. No.”

Metal bars greeted you a few feet away, the door opening into another poster board hall as a familiar uniform stepped over you, ignoring your presence completely.

“Nothing without your little mind tricks, huh?”

This was the one shame room Bob hadn't encountered with you, yet, and by far the worst.

I knew it was coming. I can get past it. You refused to look behind you, taking deep breaths as you pushed off your shoulder to get upright. Glass was embedded in too many places—you instantly blocked the pain out. All receptors shut away into a little corner for later.

While you couldn't affect the landscape around you anymore, you still had your own mind to control. That was something.

Bob, where are you? you called.

“You're getting closer. Hold on, let me get try this way.”

“Don't…touch me.”

You covered your ears, hating to recognize your own slurred speech as you kicked at the fake wall. I'm out of here. That prick is dead. I'm free.

“They call you a witch. Do you look like one under there, too?”

You kicked harder, eyes watering as the voices slipped in. It was like someone had turned up the volume as the jangling of handcuffs echoed against stone and your tired, pleading voice swarmed your head.

You let out an ear-piercing scream as you flung yourself away from the wall and dove at the uniformed man, ripping him away from your teen self and slamming him against the ground.

“Don't touch her!” you yelled, split flying as those cold eyes stared up at you.

“Finally,” a voice reiterated from his mouth, echoing into your mind. “A way to break you.”

You froze, nails digging into the neck of your tormentor. This wasn't the man you remembered anymore, but that voice was one you recognized now tinged with hatred.

“Void,” you whispered.

The man lunged up at you, darkness settling over his skin as a hand grabbed your throat and threw you to the side. You wheezed, grabbing at his arm as a man made of darkness settled over you, eyes pinpricks of molten silver staring down into your very soul.

The sound of your name caught your attention as well as his. There was a hole in the wall of the jail cell, hands ripping chunks of stone out as flashes of Bob's face came and went.

“Let her go!” he yelled, halfway through before you felt the ground around you sink. You couldn't take a breath as you went under, Void's hand squeezing.

“See what happens when you ask for help?” You thrashed, attempting to bring your legs out from under him but his weight pinned you into the dark liquid. “You ruin everything, Robert.”

Don't listen to him! You projected, grunting as the pressure. You still couldn't feel any pain, but not being able to breathe was never comfortable. You can take control of this, Bob. Pull yourself out!

“You keep trying to teach him, but he'll never learn.” Void's fingers dug between the tendons of your neck. “Give up. Go back to your worthless job and pretend to be the hero you will never become.”

Bob's yell was muffled through the water you were half under as he landed on top of Void. He punched and kicked and pulled, but the darkness wasn't letting you go. “Fuck. How do I fix this? She's helped me and I'm hurting her. Figure this out. Do something! Come on!”

Fear crept in as you saw the ink of Void bleeding into Bob. It wanted to overtake him. Control him.

Weeks ago, he had told you the one thing Void wanted above all else was for him to end up alone. He'd tried everything that day in New York to make as many people as possible suffer the same fate.

“You don't die there,” he had explained. “You're just…stuck. Stuck with the pain and it gets worse and worse.”

“He didn't try to kill any of you?” you'd asked and Bob's tired eyes had found yours, empty of hope.

“I think death would be too easy for him.”

He wants us to suffer. You reminded yourself. He won't end it.

Focusing your direction on your mind, you rammed it against Void above you, imagining your thoughts—fine needles digging into his head.

“That won't work here, mind reader.”

Panic was overwhelming you, but you’d trained for these situations. You could hear Nat yelling instructions, remember Wanda's soft guidance at the back of your mind. If landing hits on him, physical or mental, wasn't going to work you needed a new angle.

You dug your mind into Void's mass, meat hooks into skin and felt your heart thunder as those pinprick eyes shuddered and shock crowded the consciousness around you all. Even Bob stopped fighting behind him.

Got you.

His entire upper half flew down over you, sending all three of you into a sea of black. You continued to drag him into yourself as you sank, gathering the darkness like bundles of clothes slipping from your arms and holding it close to your core. Bob was caught up in it, that sweater brushing your hands as you dug your fingers into it.

You felt all of Bob's terror and hatred, every negative emotion bubbling up and held it tight.

Its okay, you told him. I'm right here. Everyone's waiting for you.

“I messed up again. He took over.”

Then take it back. You've done it before, so do it again. That angry mass fought against your hooks. Panic licked up your consciousness. Grab him by the scruff and put him in the corner or something!

Your words shocked Bob enough that everything went blank. You took the chance to hold tight and slam your shields up and over, crowding over that endless pit stuck between the two of you.

Void struggled, slipping through your fingers like congealed oil before another pair of hands encompassed yours helping you drag it somewhere deeper, somewhere safer. A door closed, or maybe a lid sealed and there was a flash before reality split open.

Both of you were panting, your arms between each other and hands tangled. Bob's face was close enough your noses skimmed and your weight settled in his lap, your legs tense around his waist as his folded around you.

“S-scruff?” he choked through a breath, blue eyes wide. “Like a kitten's scruff?”

You tried to nod but you were too close and far too tense. “Uh, yeah. I think so?”

Bob sucked in a breath and tumbled into hysterics, tears slipping down his cheeks. It was fine until his tune changed and the sobs took on the sadder variety, leaving you to pull from his hands and wrap your arms around him.

You noticed the city through the windows a few feet away as he bawled into your shoulder. The reflections of the New Avengers lay behind you, all of them different types of disbelief.

“Was he laughing?” Walker whispered as you rubbed Bob's back.

“He's crying now,” Ava murmured.

“Hugs are really best weapon against Void,” Alexei stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I'm sorry,” Bob gasped out, pulling back and wiping at his cheeks as your arms fell away. “That came out of nowhere and I was hurting you, but then you made a joke and I'm still in shock I think.”

“I told you I'm messy,” you mumbled, rolling off his lap and checking over your body. Your pajamas weren't ripped anywhere and there was no blood. Releasing your pain receptors only had aches surfacing. Okay. No actual injuries, noted.

“What happened in there?” Yelena asked, careful as she approached. “Bob, you okay?”

He nodded, the backs of his hands smoothing over his eyes. He blinked a few times before he frowned at you, taking something in.

“Uh, there was… What happened again?” he mumbled, eyes going distant.

Walker groaned in the background as Bucky sighed out, “Figures.”

“It's okay. It'll come back to you when you're ready,” you said, grunting as you got to your feet. The amnesia you'd heard about and it was a very logical reaction to trauma. Seeing it happen in real time was a bit overwhelming on your side of things, but easy enough to handle.

“You good?” Bucky stepped forward to help you up, steadying you as the world swayed a bit.

“That was…a lot,” you admitted, glancing at Bob as Yelena pulled him to his feet. “But we learned some stuff and we made it out.”

“Did I do it again?” Bob murmured, guilt weighing on his features.

“You did amazing,” you swore to him, offering a smile when he looked at you.

“Why are you in your pajamas?” he questioned, eyes lowering to your half-shoved on sneakers.

“Oh shit, my car!” you gasped, darting towards the elevator before Bucky wrapped his prosthetic arm around your waist and dragged you back.

“I'll handle it. Just stay with him for now.”

“Maybe it's best you stay here tonight,” Yelena suggested, eyes shifting between you and Bob. “You're sure you both are okay?”

“Nothing therapy can't fix,” you promised, trailing after Bucky. “I think I parked on the curb. My purse and phone are somewhere in there.”

“Got it.”

“I help as well,” Alexei said, winking at you as he went by. “As thanks for your help. Also to see the car. I hear it's nice model.”

“Yeah, well, might have some bumps now after that drive,” you sighed, thanking them again as the elevator doors closed on the men.

“Are we good now?” Ava sighed. Everyone left in the room remained silent. Yelena shrugged. “I'll take that as a yes. Good night.”

You watched her phase out of the room, the weight of your body beginning to take a toll. Sleep sounded nice.

“So,” trailed Walker, easing up next to you, “you two seem close.”

You sidestepped away from him, assuming he meant Bucky. “Yeah, we were around the same people. I've known him for a few years now so it would be a little weird if we weren't.”

“No, I meant Bob,” he said.

“What?” Both of you turned as Bob shuffled down from the book nook. He ducked his head at the attention. “Sorry, I thought I heard my name.”

“Let's get you back to bed, Bob,” Yelena advised, a hand on his back. He didn't argue, but you'd be blind to miss the countless glances he took of you over his shoulder as she guided him away.

Your mind crossed the distance, smoothing over his. It's okay. I won't be far.

“He hurt you didn't he? I hurt you.”

Technically, no. I shut my pain receptors off.

“Wait, you can do that?”

I can do a lot of things, but they're not very superhero based.

“I think you'd be a great hero.”

Your heart skipped. Thanks. Try to get some sleep. I'm here if you need me.

You retreated a bit, crossing your arms and sighing. A clearing of the throat had you looking at Walker who had a knowing look on his face.

“Word of advice,” he murmured, nose scrunching, “you could do better.”

“Word of warning,” you replied, eyes narrowing, “I can make you shit your pants.”

He nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender before heading off.

Left alone in the living room of the New Avengers, you let your head fall into your hands with a quiet groan.

[iojg]

Now, after some time have passed after my somewhat passive-aggressive commentary-slash-loaded-question about generating dungeons on the fly, here's some actual articulated thoughts as an apology. I think, obviously, one can do everything like prep during the session, but I think "do everything during the session" is a bad blanket advice. I don't think there are good blanket advice about RPGs that are not just good social advice, to be honest, because the pursuits within the hobby are rather differing, so "this is fun and this is not" is fraught as anything but a statement of taste. I could stop here, and this would be an alright argument, but I want to add more because I used to be really anti-prep, and it feels to me like a sorta mind trap, because in a way "do everything during session" is a path of the least resistance of sorts. The thing is, you just can't do meaningful Situation play without some right prep done beforehand. Situation play here is any play that is about having set fictional elements and their emergent qualities that manifest upon interacting. It's "play to find out" the way it was, as far as I can tell, meant in Apocalypse World. You can play to find out how this or that strategic combat encounter goes, or what party does in the dungeon, or how that dramatically charged relationship-map changes, or whatever, but the common thing is: there gotta be something you find out by *following fiction*. As it stands, I think that is the most rewarding approach to TTRPG medium, although obviously I am not here to be fun police. Anyway... Consider this example. Say you want to play to find out what happens when a wizard and a goblin guarding treasure meet up in a cave. You play this in a "GM play world, player plays PC" traditional kinda way, and it's like, a generic D&D game that exists purely as a hypothetical. You set out playing vowing not to prep anything before or between play sessions or whatever. At the middle of the first session of play, the encounters resolve thusly: the PC wizard charms the goblin and sets him out to terrorize a hypothetical village. The village is hypothetical because the procedure of play have not generated any village. Now the situation is resolved, and we must necessarily decide whether the village exists or not after all, and what is its make up. The playing to find out in the defined sense is in suspension: until generation is resolved, nothing can truly *emerge*.

However, imagine you had the village prepped before play. Now, in that situation, the playing to find out marches on. The Situation *includes* the village, and it can meaningfully affect the player's decision to send their goblin-minion there. Previously, whatever that decision meant was up for grabs: maybe the village hosts evil men who wronged the PC, maybe there are only children there, maybe a single goblin is not even a threat and that is basically a suicide mission contrived for them, however, we as a group couldn't really *find out* anything about PC by their decision about the village, because someone gotta halt the finding out and take charge about defining that and post-factum assigning meaning to PC's action. And this is fine as long as play is about a wizard, a goblin, and a cave with treasure, but if we want the play to be about the village during the outset of the game, we need it to be there at the outset of the game, and we can not invent it. This applies to games about challenge to, obviously. If GM makes up the encounter or dungeon knowing the party composition just in time, they tailor the challenge to the party, consciously or not. Trying to remove yourself from that knowledge only gets you so far. And that's not even starting on how pressed for time you are during play! Of course, the random generators can help, but you know, you almost always have to actually make shit up for them. They are either just inspiration suppliers, which you can substitute with improv tech and which is just making shit up with aid (still not finding out), or they are probabilistic representations of the world, but you still gotta make sense out of whatever context the party encounters the goblins or whatever, and that is still part making shit up and finding out. Still, it's better than just making shit up, and you gotta make shit up at some point anyway, so obviously less important shit can suffer being made up later or on the go just fine, and making some shit up as you go is inevitable anyway, it just doesn't necessarily means that making as much shit up as possible en route is the most enjoyable. On a personal note, please don't hit me with "it's all just making shit up, who cares". I care, and there are different ways of making shit up, and they are fun in different ways. Also as a personal aside, I don't prep more than I run sessions, ever, and I don't prep anything that I don't enjoy prepping. That translates to me not running things I don't enjoy prepping, but also usually to me prepping for like 6-8 hours before any campaign starts or just after first sessions, and then like 30 minutes between every which session, which usually should net a good solid three months of play sessions. I play PBTAs, have played some OSRs, am branching out into oldish Forge stuff, and my favorite game is DitV, which also has my favorite prep. Hope this aids anyone reading in understanding my position. Sorry for mistypes and grammar!

writing intricate backstories is the playerside equivallent of the gm prep burden

[yourstrulynobody]

[ " Ocean Terror. " DCA mermay comic , 2/2 — part 1 ]

The two of them suddenly hit and laid on a curved surface, but it wasn't the ocean's floor. Rather it was a set of hands in a cupping position that rose them high enough to enter the surface of the ocean, and Sun gasped for air.

"Sunny!" Moon sighed of relief, crying as he held Sun closer. He unconsiously sent out multiple pulses, but that wasn't his priority.

"Moony..!" Sun choked out, dazed but happily returned the pulses—just a bit weaker than Moon's, but good enough.

The waves began to dance as a silhouette drew near and surfaced, revealing a giant. He was maybe a few 100 feet taller with similar features from both brothers; sharper rays and fins, more stringers, and a fiery color mixed with void. His eyes and arms had two extra sets that Moon doubted he needed considering his size and what he could only assume as immense strength that came with it.

A Taiten.

A myth. A legend. A story. Just before them. Holding them.

Even creatures like them didnt believe in a Taitens existence, but now they do.

The Taiten extended one sharp claw towards them, being so careful not to touch their delicate bodies as it tore the net almost immediately at the contact. Lifting the ruined trap, he draws it into his mouth and starts to chew—the bastard can eat nets like it was just any other smaller fish.

Smaller fish like them to him.

Moon didnt dare loosen his grip on Sun, but knew that trying to threaten the Taiten wouldn't be any good either. As scary as it was to be in front of a story, Moon was thankful he hadn't seen Sun implode. Maybe it was better off to be eaten by someone larger than you than die at deep lengths.

The Taiten vibrated, sending out a rather weak and slow pulse towards them, almost like it was... comforting them?

Sun was the first to return it, though because of his state, his pulse was incredibly weak, so neither were even sure the Taiten had felt it. Moon swallowed down his fear and sent out his own pulse, one almost as strong as the last he sent earlier that caught its attention.

The Taiten was silent as it sunk itself into the water, leaving only his upper eyes visible.

"I don't eat those similar to my kind." The giant said, a sense of relief washing over the two. "Sailors, weren't they?"

The duo remained silent as Moon nodded weakly at the question.

"Tell me where you last saw them," he slowly sunk his hands in the water by a bit, letting the duo's tails soak in it to get a bit of energy. "I shall deal with them. I am not too fond with sailors nowadays and before."

Just how old was this Taiten?

"It... I-it was last here." Moon recalled. "I guess it left long ago.."

The Taiten tilted its head, and that was enough to make the waves swing harshly. "Which direction were they headed?"

Moon looked around to see any pinpoints before he pointed to his left. "That way."

The Taiten sighed and nodded.

Sun suddenly coughed, his numb fingers clawing into Moon's skin with little to no damage done. Moon nuzzled his head against Sun's, letting out a soft pulse that questioned if he was okay, and Sun sent out a softer pulse to reassure his brother yet still confirmed he was in no good state.

Moon knew Sun wouldn't be able to swim for a good few days after all the pressure he received, making all that training to get Sun to swim useless. Moon looked over to the Taiten almost helplessly—begging.

Said Taiten looked at Sun pitifully before speaking. "Theres a river I know that he can lay rest in. Awanis like him can adapt to water change fast, no?"

Sun nodded wearily, drifting to sleep.

"Let the Awanis rest."...

...He begun to slowly move his hands, dragging the two with him in a careful pace. "I can assure you that I'll watch over the two of you as best as I can; no sort of hunter shall lay their hands on you."

Moon continued to hold Sun, confused yet comforted at the kind gesture. But he had to know one more thing...

"I—I'm Moon... this is my brother Sun." He introduced themselves slowly. "And you are...?"

"Eclipse." He nodded as if to bow down. "What a coincidence."

Moon was silent before he let out a dry chuckle. "Hm. Thank you, Eclipse."

Eclipse extended one thumb towards Moon, rubbing his head slowly which caused Moon to involuntarily lean into it. "No need for it."

[perotovar]

from May to August (or later)

hello friends! i really liked doing my Offering of Frith challenge last summer and have been wanting to do another one ever since. and well, if you've been following me for a minute, you know that Sleep Token is my favorite band. so i figured with their latest album having just released, this was the perfect time to do another one!

this one is going to go a little differently, and hopefully more people can join in on the fun this time around!

disclaimer: you do not need to listen to Sleep Token to participate, or even know who they are.

i'm hoping people will be open minded at the idea of having a song and its lyrics inspire them to write something!

let's get started!

shout out to @scenaaario @kedsandtubesocks and my mom for the help on this ♥

so, the way this will work is like this: i have 4 groups of pedro characters. one group per album. i'll list out those groups and you tell me which boy you'd like to write for and i'll assign you to a group.

for example: say you wanna write for Dave York.

calm down, grumpy pants, sheesh.

anyway, say you wanna write for dave. you'd send me a message saying so and i'll respond with what group you're a part of and most importantly, what your song is!

this way, if someone else wanted to write for dave, they could be assigned to a different group. this makes it a little easier for me to keep track of and hopefully more people happy!

if you have any further questions, don't hesitate to dm me!

now, what do each of these groups look like? here are your options!

GROUP 1

1. Max Phillips -> taken by @noxturnalnymph 2. General Acacius -> taken by @grogusmum 3. Marcus Pike 4. Dave York -> taken by @ghoulettesinspace 5. Pero Tovar 6. Joel Miller -> taken by @evolnoomym 7. Lucien De Leon 8. Clint Flood -> taken by @mandaloriankait 9. Javier Peña -> taken by @stitch-away 10. Frankie Morales -> taken by @romanarose 11. Ezra -> taken by @cas-readsandwrites 12. Din Djarin

GROUP 2

1. Joel Miller -> taken by @beardedjoel 2. Lucien De Leon 3. Marcus Pike 4. Comandante Veracruz 5. Silva -> taken by @javier-pena 6. Dieter Bravo -> taken by @jessthebaker 7. Reed Richards 8. Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey -> taken by @beelzebeth87 9. Dave York 10. Javi Gutierrez -> taken by @qveerthe0ry 11. Frankie Morales -> taken by @quinnnfabrgay-writes 12. Din Djarin -> taken by @dilf-din

GROUP 3

1. Ezra -> taken by @kedsandtubesocks 2. Javier Peña -> taken by @almostfoxglove 3. Lucien De Leon 4. Clint Flood -> taken by @sp00kymulderr 5. Pero Tovar 6. Maxwell Lord 7. Frankie Morales 8. Joel Miller 9. Marcus Moreno 10. Oberyn Martell -> taken by @oonajaeadira 11. Dave York -> taken by @goodwithcheese 12. General Acacius

GROUP 4

1. Joel Miller 2. Frankie Morales -> taken by @nonbinairyboi 3. Dave York 4. Max Phillips -> taken by @pedritofics 5. Dieter Bravo taken by @rulexofxnines 6. General Acacius -> taken by @cuppajoel 7. Javier Peña -> taken by @grayandthyme 8. Din Djarin 9. Lucien De leon -> taken by @whocaresstillthelouvre 10. Ezra -> taken by @beefrobeefcal

considering how my last challenge went, this tends to be on a first come first serve basis, but ST have a few singles/extra songs so if someone really wants to participate, i have a few more songs to hand out!

now, what are the parameters of this challenge?

i don't really mind how long your fic is. whatever the lyrics bring out of you makes me happy, so go nuts!

i'm also not super stressed about deadlines, but my little selfish self wants to read these fics super bad LOL and i'd love to see how creative y'all get! i'm going to have this go for the whole summer and you're free to post them whenever during that time. but if writer's block or life happens, there's no rush ♥

have fun!

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 12)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist with secrets of her own. he becomes determined to break through the walls adeline has built around herself. but some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: hey, everyone!!! celebrating mason's goals, here's a spicy one for you. hope you like it :)

word count: 10.2k

warnings: a lot of smut & fluff.

next: chapter 13 (soon)

tag list: @avalentina @a1leexxa

The morning sunlight slipped through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden hue over the living room. Mason stirred awake slowly, the scent of lavender still clinging to the blanket draped over them. Adeline against his chest, her cheek pressed lightly to his shirt, her breathing deep and even.

They had fallen asleep on the couch again. It was becoming a tradition neither of them acknowledged — maybe because it made things feel less defined, or maybe because it was just... comfortable.

Mason kept still for a moment, not wanting to wake her. His arms were still around her, and even after the emotionally heavy night they'd had, she hadn't let go. He looked down at her sleeping form, strands of hair tucked into the crook of his arm, and a rush of something warm spread through his chest. It wasn’t just affection. It was care. Deep, quiet care.

The night before played in flashes. Her crying in his arms. Her shaking, her silence. And then that long, slow calm when she held onto him like he was something steady in a world she couldn’t trust.

He shifted gently, grabbing his phone from the armrest and typing out a message to Jaz.

Mason: Any chance you can bring Lily around this morning? I think Adeline could really use her.

He hit send before he could overthink it. Adeline still hadn’t said a word about what triggered her panic attack, and he hadn’t pushed. But he knew it was something she didn’t feel ready to share. And, that's fine. He’d wait. He just wanted to help in the meantime.

About thirty minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door.

He moved carefully, sliding out from under Adeline without waking her and walking to the door. When he opened it, Lily stood there grinning, her tiny backpack slung over one shoulder and a glittery unicorn clip in her hair. Jaz was behind her, giving Mason a quick, knowing smile.

“Operation wake-up is a go.” Jaz whispered with a wink. "Text me later."

Mason crouched to Lily’s level. "Alright, Lils. Think you can wake up your mom in a special way?"

Lily lit up instantly, tiptoeing inside, as Mason closed the door.

He watched her creep up to the couch like a cartoon character on a secret mission, arms stretched out wide for dramatic effect. She pounced gently on Adeline, giggling.

“Mommy! Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Adeline jolted slightly, surprised, and then broke into the kind of smile that made Mason's heart full. She sat up quickly, pulling Lily into her arms.

“Bug! I missed you!” she whispered, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you too! We had candy and watched cartoons and Summer dressed up like a potato.”

"A potato?" Adeline blinked.

"A very fat potato." Lily added, dead serious.

Adeline looked over her shoulder, her eyes still soft with sleep, but lighter somehow. "You brought her back?"

He shrugged, one hand in his pocket. “Thought it might cheer you up. Plus, it’s Sunday. Figured it could be a day just for you.”

“Me?”

“Relax. Me and Lily are gonna take over the kitchen. We’re making breakfast. Right, chef?”

"Yes, Chef Mase." Lily saluted.

“You’re both insane.” Adeline laughed, brushing her fingers through Lily’s hair.

“Lovely, actually.” Mason replied, heading toward the kitchen.

Mason lifted Lily onto the counter with a dishtowel like a chef’s apron and handed her a whisk, that was way too big for her hands.

“We need eggs, lots of them.” he said dramatically, opening the fridge.

“They're pretty!” Lily said, grabbing two and holding them like precious gems.

Adeline stood by the kitchen entrance, leaning on the doorframe in her oversized hoodie, watching them. There was something about the way Lily looked up at Mason with admiration. And, the way Mason gently guided her, holding her wrist while they mixed batter or letting her pick how many chocolate chips to add.

Adeline didn’t mean to stare, but she did. Because no man had ever just… cared like that. Not for her, not for Lily. It wasn’t loud or grand, it wasn’t even romantic in the traditional sense.

It was just safe. Steady. She didn’t feel like she had to do it all alone.

She stepped into the kitchen slowly, arms crossed but a little smile tugging at her lips. “What are we making, Gordon Ramsay?”

“Pancakes. Possibly edible. No promises.” Mason turned over his shoulder.

“And chocolate chips. Lots.” Lily beamed.

“Well, if it’s in Lily’s hands, I trust it'll be good.”

Adeline waited at the table, chin resting on her palm, fingers absently brushing over the wood. From the kitchen came the occasional clatter of plates and Lily’s high-pitched giggles, followed by Mason’s low, amused replies. For a moment, everything felt suspended — soft, golden, still. Like the world outside had quieted just for them.

When they finally emerged from the kitchen, Mason was balancing two plates, while Lily trailed behind him proudly holding two cups of juice.

Adeline blinked in surprise. The plates were filled — fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs with chives, crispy bacon, and even a small fruit bowl. Mason slid into the seat beside her, letting his arm drape around the back of her chair, his fingers brushing lightly against her hoodie.

“Well... I'm impressed.” she said.

“Lily's the boss. I'm just emotional support.” Mason said, nodding toward the little girl who was already climbing into her seat.

“I cracked an egg. Only spilled one.” Lily said confidently.

“And two on the counter.” Mason added with a grin.

Adeline let out a real laugh. One that came from her stomach and warmed her chest.

“This looks amazing, Mase.”

Mason looked over at her, his expression a mix of pride and something softer. “You look better this morning.” he said, quietly.

“I feel better.” she admitted, glancing down at her plate. “Thank you, both of you.”

They started eating in a rhythm that felt almost like routine — comfortable, filled with little sounds of Lily humming to herself between bites and Mason offering to pass the syrup. Adeline didn’t realize how hungry she was until the first bite hit her tongue. It was warm and sweet.

Then, halfway through her juice, Lily looked up and asked, voice small and curious. “Are you and Mase a couple?”

Adeline blinked and Mason stopped mid-chew.

The question wasn’t loaded with expectation. It came from the same place as all Lily’s questions: observation. Innocent curiosity. But it still landed like a stone in the quiet ease they’d settled into.

Lily looked between them, chewing on her pancake and continuing, “Like Olivia's mommy and daddy. Or Josh's. They live together and kiss a lot.”

Adeline’s fork froze above her plate. Her mind scattered in a dozen directions — memories of hotel rooms and guilt-heavy mornings. No one ever lasted. She never brought anyone into Lily’s life. Not like this.

She glanced at Mason, and he was already looking at her. There was no panic in his expression, but there was vulnerability. A flicker of concern. This wasn’t his moment to answer.

Adeline turned to Lily, her voice warm and steady. “Mason is very special to me, sweetheart.” she said. “And sometimes, grown-ups take their time to figure things out, just like kids do with new games or toys.”

Lily stared for a second, then nodded, satisfied enough. “Okay.” she said, returning to her pancakes like nothing had happened. “But if you do kiss, I don’t wanna see it. That’s gross.”

Mason coughed a laugh, nearly choking on his tea.

Adeline reached for her tea, hiding her smile behind the rim. Under the table, she felt Mason’s hand find her knee, resting there gently. A silent reassurance. She didn’t look at him right away — but she didn’t pull away either.

Some things didn’t need to be said out loud. Not, yet.

But, they were getting there.

(...)

Mason was the one who suggested they go to Afflecks Market.

The weather had no business being that perfect — sunny, warm, and just breezy enough to feel like the city itself was sighing in relief. It was the kind of Sunday that made it impossible to stay indoors.

The market was buzzing with people. The doors opened to that signature scent: a mix of incense, street food, and too many candles burning all at once. Every wall was alive — flyers layered on top of each other, vintage t-shirts hanging crooked, stalls with everything from crystal necklaces to watches.

Adeline walked between Mason and Lily, her hand grazing his arm more than once — and he didn’t move away. In fact, at one point, he linked their fingers for a beat too long when helping her through a narrow aisle.

“A unicorn candle!” Lily gasped dramatically.

Mason leaned close, his voice low near Adeline’s ear as Lily skipped off to the shelf. “Think that would survive two hours in the flat before becoming a pile of glitter wax?”

“She’d probably take it to bed and wake up stuck to it.”

He laughed, that warm, quiet kind that made her chest squeeze a little.

They lingered near a display of graphic hoodies and oversized t-shirts, most with bold "Manchester" prints or ridiculous sayings on them.

“Do you think I’d get away with this one?” Mason held up a shirt that read: ‘Proper Manchester Lad’ in fluorescent pink.

“Only if you want people to think you’re doing ironic performance art.”

“Or maybe just trying to impress someone.” He leaned closer again.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm. “You don’t have to wear neon to do that.”

“So... I’m already impressive?” He raised a brow.

“You’re tolerable.” Adeline gave him a slow look.

“Ouch.” He held his chest, feigning injury. “Ruthless.”

Lily ran back with a sticker of a sparkly cat and Mason lifted her up easily, balancing her on his hip like it was natural to him.

As they moved deeper into the market, past a vinyl stall and a tarot reader, Adeline asked. “You grew up in Portsmouth, right?”

“Born and raised. Near the coast. Mom worked as a hairdresser, Dad coached local teams. My siblings and I used to spend summers getting muddy in the beach. Me, Lewis, Jaz, and Stacey. It was loud. Messy.”

She smiled, watching him shift Lily’s weight effortlessly as he spoke.

“Miss it?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. Life was… smaller then. Football was just fun. No pressure. No one watching. Just scabby knees, sodas, and goalposts made from jackets.”

“You sound like a storybook.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I say that like I could picture it.” she said, her voice softer now. “You, being just some boy with a dream.”

He glanced over at her, eyes catching hers for a second longer than they probably should’ve in public.

And just then — it shifted.

Adeline felt it first. That prickling awareness. She followed the feeling to the left, and sure enough, two girls were hovering near a jewelry stall just across from them, pretending to look at earrings. But they kept glancing over. Whispering. One even had her phone partially raised — not filming, yet, but clearly tempted.

“We’ve got admirers.” She leaned into Mason with a smirk.

He followed her gaze and sighed quietly, his body tensing almost imperceptibly.

“They’re cute. Subtle. Almost professional.” she teased, brushing her arm against his deliberately.

“This is why I don’t do public much. It’s never just one photo.” Mason’s voice was low.

“I’m not bothered, Mase.” she said honestly. “I actually... kinda like it. Makes me feel like I’m in a scandalous tabloid romance.”

He snorted. “You want me to dip you back and kiss you dramatically or something?”

“Only if we get good lighting.”

He chuckled, adjusting Lily as she squirmed in his arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re too hot to be this grumpy.”

Mason choked on a laugh, trying not to draw attention, but she caught the way he bit down a smile — the way he looked at her like she was the only one in that chaotic market.

“I’ll survive the stares.” he said, softer this time. “As long as you keep looking at me like that.”

They kept moving, slipping into another corner of the market where Lily insisted on smelling every candle she could find. Mason knelt beside her, letting her choose between a “strawberry cloud” and something called “forest dreams” which she, dramatically, claimed smelled like fairies.

Adeline hung back a little, her attention caught by a small stall of antique lockets and pins. Her fingers brushed over a delicate silver one shaped like a heart, the surface scratched just enough to feel like it had a story.

That’s when she felt it — the prickling sensation of someone watching her.

Two girls, probably in their twenties, were lingering near the opposite table, stealing not-so-subtle glances her way. One of them, a brunette in a leather jacket and platform boots, nudged her friend, who was taller and had her phone clutched like it was ready.

Adeline turned slightly, catching their eyes. They both hesitated — then stepped closer.

“Hi, sorry—” the brunette started, visibly nervous. “We didn’t wanna interrupt, but… is that Mason Mount with you?”

Adeline offered a polite smile. “Yes, he’s just over there.”

“Oh my god.” the other girl breathed, grinning. “Do you think he’d mind taking a picture with us?”

“I can ask, give me one second.” Adeline said, keeping her tone kind. She appreciated that they were respectful — not pushy, just excited.

She walked over to where Mason was crouched next to Lily, now engaged in a very serious discussion about which soap smelled like a butterfly.

“Hey.” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got fans. Two of them. They asked if you’d take a photo.”

He looked up, following her gaze. When he saw the girls, he gave a quiet sigh — not annoyed, just resigned. “Are you okay with it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “They're sweet. Didn’t come running or anything.”

“Alright.” He nodded, rising to his feet and dusting off his jeans.

Mason approached the girls with that polite, kind smile he’d perfected — warm enough to be nice, but just closed off enough to draw a boundary. He greeted them, posed between the two girls, when Adeline stepped forward.

“I can take it if you’d like.” she offered.

The girls looked relieved. “Would you? Thank you!”

She took the phone and snapped a few quick pictures, giving Mason a small thumbs-up when they were done. The girls said how much they loved watching him play and were halfway through complimenting his jacket, before glancing quickly back at Adeline.

“You guys are really cute together.” one said with a sincere smile. “And, uh… you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.” Adeline blinked, startled — but smiled.

They waved and left, still whispering excitedly to each other as they disappeared into the crowd.

Only once they were well out of earshot did Mason exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.

“They're nice.” Adeline said, nudging him playfully.

“Yeah. Just—still not used to it.” He nodded.

“You handled it fine, Mase.”

“I didn't mean the pictures. I just don’t like... all the eyes on the people I care about.”

She looked at him for a beat, reading the quiet honesty in his expression. Then he added, more softly, “That’s why I didn’t say anything back there. But…”

He leaned in just slightly, so only she could hear.

“They’re right.”

Her brow rose. “About?”

“You.” he said. “Being, ridiculously pretty.”

Adeline felt her cheeks flush — instantly, stupidly warm. “You’re only saying that because I handled your PR like a professional.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” He grinned. “But the PR part didn’t hurt.”

She laughed, trying to hide her smile behind her hand.

At her feet, Lily looked up, unimpressed. “I’m still hungry.”

“Alright.” Mason said, scooping her up with ease. “Let’s feed the fairy before she turns into a goblin.”

Adeline followed as they turned toward the next row of food stalls, heart still beating faster than she cared to admit.

(...)

A few doors down from Afflecks Market, they ducked into a small burger joint located between a record store and a tattoo studio. The sign above the door read “Bun & Battered” in peeling green paint, and the smell of grilled meat and toasted brioche hit instantly, mouthwatering and heavy.

It was the kind of place with red leather booths, checkered floors, and laminated menus, stuck under the glass-topped tables. A rock playlist hummed over the speakers, the windows were fogged slightly from the grills working overtime in the back.

“Shouldn’t you be on some footballer diet?” Adeline teased as they slid into a booth near the corner.

Mason leaned back, one arm draped along the top of the seat behind her. “Yes.” he said casually. “But I think I’ll survive one burger. Maybe even... chips.”

“That’s rebellious.”

“I’m a man of layers.” he grinned.

When the server came, Adeline reached for her bag — only for Mason to beat her to it.

“Mase—” she began.

“Nope.” he said, already handing his card over. “Let me.”

“I was gonna cover mine and Lily’s.”

“You’ve been feeding me emotional support tea and letting your kid cover me in fairy soap all morning. Let me buy lunch.”

Adeline shook her head, lips curving. “You’re something else, Mount.”

“Charming, though.” he said, sipping his Coke with zero shame.

Lily got a kid-sized burger that was still bigger than her face, and immediately managed to smear ketchup on her cheek. Mason didn’t miss a beat — grabbing a napkin and gently dabbing at her skin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Missed a spot.” Adeline said, pointing to his own chin.

“No, I didn’t.” But he wiped anyway, then stuck his tongue out at her.

“You’re weird.” Lily giggled wildly.

“Yes, bug.” Adeline replied. “But, we’re your weirdos.”

The food was good — messy, delicious, and totally worth breaking diets for. Adeline didn’t realize how hungry she really was until the first bite. She leaned her elbow on the table, watching Mason cut Lily’s burger in half like a pro, then slide her extra napkins, before she even asked.

There were a few glances — the kind that lingered. A couple sitting by the front door seemed to recognize Mason, whispering behind their milkshakes. Another pair of guys near the counter, did a double take, one subtly nudging his phone under the table, as if debating whether to sneak a picture.

Adeline didn’t tense, but she felt the shift. Mason noticed it too.

His posture changed just slightly — less relaxed, more aware. Not angry, but alert. His fingers lightly brushed against Adeline’s wrist on the table, a silent reassurance.

But, beneath that calm, his mind flicked back to the fans earlier — to the way they’d looked at Adeline with curiosity. Not judgmental, just curious. But, curiosity spreads. Rumors grow teeth. Headlines twist things.

He hadn’t been seen with anyone in years. Not... like this.

And now? Here he was. In a public booth. With Lily trying to make her pickle “do a flip” across the tray and Adeline laughing at him like he was the only person in the room.

Something about it scared him. And something about it felt… right.

“I think she’s gonna need a nap after this.” Adeline said quietly, sipping her drink.

“She? Pretty sure I need a nap after that burger.”

Adeline leaned a little closer, her voice low and teasing. “Planning to sleep through your recovery or…?”

“I was thinking I could be persuaded to stay awake.” he murmured, eyes flicking to her. “If there’s incentive.”

“You’re not as smooth as you think, Mount.” She smirked, cheeks pink.

“I don’t need to be.” He raised a brow.

Adeline snorted into her drink, hiding her smile. Lily declared she was full and began stacking her fries like a tower, blissfully unaware.

Mason looked at Adeline again, longer this time. And the thought lingered — about the fans, the attention, the risk.

Then, she laughed again. And he thought: Screw it.

She's worth it all.

(...)

The sun was starting to dip behind Manchester’s buildings, casting golden shadows over the pavement as they walked toward the car. The city was still buzzing around them — buskers packing up, laughter echoing from nearby pubs, the clatter of market vendors rolling down their stalls.

Lily was completely knocked out, cheek squished against Mason’s shoulder, her arms limp around his neck. The chocolate chip cookie she insisted on earlier had been the final blow after an afternoon of walking and exploring. Now, she was draped in his arms like she’d always belonged there.

Adeline walked beside him, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, trying not to stare too long. But she did — often. Because, there was something quietly disarming about the way Mason held Lily. The care, the ease. How he readjusted her slightly when she slipped, murmured something soft, even though she couldn’t hear him. How he, never once, looked annoyed or tired.

He opened the car door with one hand, the other still wrapped securely around Lily, and gently set her in the back seat, buckling her in with the kind of attention most people reserve for fragile things.

On the way to Adeline’s flat, a John Mayer song filtered through the speakers — “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.” — the kind of song that lived in the silence more than the sound.

Without thinking, Adeline reached over. Her fingers found the nape of Mason’s neck — just above the collar of his t-shirt — and brushed gently, her thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles.

Mason didn’t say anything. He just exhaled — a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it in all day — and reached for her thigh. His palm was warm as it settled there, fingers spreading, slightly. Higher than casual. Intentionally close. He didn’t look at her, but she felt him tense a little, waiting to see if she’d move away.

She didn’t. In fact, she tilted her legs just slightly toward him. Her body answered before her mind could process what was happening.

Heat stirred inside her — slow and smoldering, like the music playing in the background. Her breath caught as his thumb began to move, slow and deliberate, just like hers had been on his neck.

Nothing was said. There didn’t need to be.

The city disappeared outside the windows. They drove through it like it belonged to someone else, wrapped up in a quiet that pulsed between them — alive and charged.

When they pulled into Adeline's building, Mason shifted the car into neutral but didn’t immediately turn it off. His hand lingered on her thigh, her hand still resting behind his neck. Neither of them moved, until Lily stirred lightly in the back, a small, sleepy murmur breaking the spell.

Mason cleared his throat, gently pulling his hand away as he turned off the engine. Adeline looked over at him, a faint, crooked smile tugging at her lips.

She didn’t say anything. And, neither did he.

Lily was already awake, blinking slowly, her cheek still marked by the imprint of her nap.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” he said gently, opening the car door for her.

She slid out with a little groan, stretching her arms high above her head. Her curls were a little mussed, her expression adorably dazed.

Adeline walked around to meet them, reaching out to adjust Lily’s sweatshirt. “Bug, do you want to head in first? George’s probably on shift.”

“Can I say hi to him?” Lily asked, already brightening.

“George?” Mason glanced sideways.

“The doorman.” Adeline explained with a small smile. “She’s obsessed. He tells her stories when she’s bored waiting for me.”

Lily looked up at Mason, her eyes round. “He was a magician in another life.”

Mason laughed at that. “Of course he was.”

Before she turned to go, Lily surprised him — throwing her arms around his middle and hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Mase.” she murmured. “It was so fun.”

His hands gently came to rest around her tiny frame, holding her with a care that felt almost instinctive.

“You’re welcome, Lils.” he said softly, bending down just a little to be closer to her height. “I had a pretty great time too.”

She beamed at him and then jogged toward the building, skipping slightly as she reached the front doors and waved at the man inside.

Adeline took a step closer, arms folded loosely in front of her. “You’ve got a fan for life now.”

“I can see that.” Mason said, watching Lily disappear inside.

He turned toward her, that familiar calm settling over him — something he only seemed to feel around her now. “She’s just like you.”

Adeline met his eyes, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. The tension between them was different than earlier that day — softer, heavier. It wasn’t just chemistry. It was something heavier, lived-in. Charged and warm.

“Thank you.” she said. “For the whole day. For lunch. For being… ridiculously patient with her. With me.”

He smiled, stepping slightly closer. “You don’t have to thank me, Ady. I meant it when I said I wanted to be there.”

Adeline’s fingers reached up, almost instinctively, brushing the edge of his jaw. “Still.” she said. “I’ve never really… let someone in like this. Not in a while. I guess it’s strange that it doesn’t feel strange.”

He tilted his head slightly. “It doesn’t feel strange at all.”

Her touch shifted slightly, and before he could think too much about it, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth — slow and warm, laced with gratitude and something deeper. And when she pulled back, her lips brushed the line of his jaw and then his neck, just enough to make his breath hitch.

Mason blinked, caught off guard for a second. But then, she stepped back with a little smile tugging at her mouth — like she knew exactly what she’d done.

“Guess I owe you again.” she murmured, fingers grazing the collar of his jacket, her voice low and teasing.

Mason chuckled, still recovering. “You’re racking up quite the tab.”

“Think you can keep up?” She tilted her head playfully.

“Oh, I can do more than keep up.” he said, voice dropping a note, his hand barely brushing her waist. “But I’ll make sure you feel every payment.”

Adeline bit back a grin, lips curling as she leaned close, voice brushing his ear. “Careful. I like the sound of that.”

And just like that, the air between them simmered again. He couldn’t stop looking at her, his mind already halfway to what might come next — if only they weren’t standing outside her building with the sun still up.

"See you soon, Mount.” she added, then, kissing him once more — warm and unhurried — before walking away.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, jaw tight, eyes fixed on her as she moved toward the entrance, tossing him one last glance over her shoulder.“

And even after she disappeared through the glass doors, Mason stayed exactly where he was, hand shoved in his pocket, heart thudding a little faster than usual.

Whatever this was… it wasn’t casual anymore. And he didn’t want it to be.

(...)

Steam curled around Adeline as she stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over her skin in soothing waves. The bathroom fogged up quickly, the mirror already blurred behind the haze. She tipped her head back under the spray, closing her eyes and letting the heat loosen the tension in her shoulders.

But her mind wasn’t quiet. It hadn’t been since she entered her building, with Mason’s voice still playing in her head.

Her fingers, now pressed against her neck, where his had lingered hours before, and heat pulsed in her belly that had nothing to do with the water.

She shouldn’t be thinking about him like this — especially, not now, not with Lily tucked safely in bed in the next room — but, it was impossible not to. Mason Mount had been crawling under her skin for weeks. Tonight, though? Tonight made it undeniable.

She braced her hands against the tiled wall, exhaling slowly, trying to let the water clear her thoughts. But, instead, images of him flooded in sharper.

His hand resting, just a little too high, on her thigh in the car.

The teasing glint in his eye when she kissed the side of his neck.

His breath catching.

The way he’d watched her walk away, like he wanted to follow.

Adeline swallowed hard, cheeks flushed from more than just the steam. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined having him all to herself. His sculpted frame wasn’t exactly subtle — probably carved from years of gym workouts, every muscle fitting just right under the fabric of his t-shirt. And those tattoos… the ones she’d caught glimpses of before. The one on his rib, that she knew was just beneath the hem of his shirt. The way the ink trailed down his right arm, bold and intricate, only made her wonder how far they went.

And, then, there was the way he looked at her mouth sometimes. Just a second too long. She noticed. Because, she did the same.

Biting her bottom lip, she turned off the shower and reached for the towel, pressing it to her skin as she stood in the lingering warmth.

Yet, her thoughts didn’t cool down. Not a bit.

Adeline stepped out of the bathroom, the warmth of the steam still clinging to her skin. A towel wrapped around her body, she padded silently into her bedroom, careful not to disturb the peaceful silence that had settled over the flat.

She opened her drawer, instinctively reaching for one of her usual oversized t-shirts when her hand hesitated. Something tugged at her.

Without really thinking too much about it, she pushed past the t-shirt and pulled out the black lace lingerie set Stella had once gifted her — expensive, delicate, never worn. It had felt like too much back then. But, tonight… she didn’t know. It felt different.

She slipped it on slowly, the silk hugging her body in all the right places. No one was going to see it. Probably. Maybe. That wasn’t the point. She just… felt like it. And, that was reason enough.

Adeline climbed into bed and lay back against the pillows, still slightly damp hair spread around her. The room was dark, the sky outside, now pitch-black, only the occasional car sound rising from the street. The day had gone by faster than she realized. Her body relaxed, but, her mind didn’t.

She tried to distract herself. From the heat still curling low in her stomach. From the memory of Mason’s touch. His gaze. The way her pulse jumped when he got close.

To her own surprise, she grabbed her phone and opened Instagram. She’d never actually checked his profile. Not really. It felt like an invasion before.

She searched his name and found him easily.

Mason Mount, 5.7 million followers. England & Manchester United

Photos on the pitch, shots of training, sponsored posts. All high quality. Clean. Distant, somehow. Everything looked so polished. So... untouchable.

Her own profile was private. Quiet. A few pictures of Manchester streets, one or two with Lily or Stella, a mirror selfie from months ago.

Before she could stop herself, her thumb tapped follow. She blinked.

He won’t see it. Not tonight, anyway.

But, he did.

Because, barely two minutes later, a notification popped up:

Mason Mount has requested to follow you.

Her heart skipped a beat. Then, came the message.

Mason: Finally decided to become one of the 5.7 million?

Adeline bit her lip, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Adeline: Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. Not bad, Mount.

Mason: Not bad? Harsh review.

Adeline: To be fair, the best post is still the one from last week. The one with me and Lily blurry in the background with grocery bags.

Mason: That’s already my favorite.

She stared at the screen for a second, warmth blooming in her chest. Then another message came through.

Mason: Wearing that towel still?

Her jaw dropped, laugh caught in her throat.

Adeline: Excuse me?

Mason: I’m just guessing. You have “still-damp-hair-and-trouble” energy tonight.

She snorted softly, fingers flying over the screen.

Adeline: You’re ridiculous.

Mason: And you’re avoiding the question.

She didn’t reply. She didn’t need to. A minute later, another message came through.

Mason: Look out your window, Alderidge.

Her breath hitched as she scrambled off the bed, padding across the room. She tugged open the curtains — and... there he was.

Down on the street, Mason stood by his car, leaning against the door like he hadn’t just casually turned her entire night inside out.

Her phone buzzed again. He was calling.

She answered quickly, a hand still holding the curtain open. Their eyes met across the dark.

“Stalker.” she murmured into the phone, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Guilty.” he said, voice low and amused. “But... I got impatient.”

“Oh, did you?”

“You looked too good in my imagination and I couldn’t let it stay there.”

Her pulse fluttered.

“So…” he continued, his grin audible now. “Are you going to let me in, or just keep undressing me from the window?”

“Come up.” She laughed, shaking her head.

And just like that, she turned from the window, heart pounding in her chest — already knowing this night wasn’t going to end quietly.

As soon as Adeline hung up the call, a rush of nerves fluttered in her chest — anticipation laced with something heavier.

She glanced down at herself — black lace hugging her curves a little too perfectly — and though she felt bold minutes ago, now her fingers moved quickly toward the robe hanging on the back of her chair. She slipped it on and loosely tied the belt, her heart beating faster with every step she took toward the door.

She wanted this. She wanted him. The way her body ached around that truth made it impossible to ignore.

The softest knock came, three short taps. Her breath hitched. She opened the door slowly.

Mason stood there, slightly damp hair falling just right, his skin freshly clean, and a plain white t-shirt clinging to his frame — simple, but impossibly attractive. The short sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the tattoos on his arm, the one she had been thinking about not even an hour ago.

His eyes raked over her. “You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow, playing innocent, even as heat surged under her skin. “I put a robe on, didn’t I?”

His mouth quirked into a grin. “And somehow, that makes it worse.”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing the laugh bubbling in her throat as she grabbed his arm. “Quiet.” she whispered, tugging him gently into the flat. “Lily’s asleep. Don’t get us kicked out.”

“I’ll try to behave.” he murmured close to her ear, the grin still there in his voice.

She led him down the quiet hallway, heart hammering, aware of the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. The air between them was already thick, charged, every step toward her bedroom feeling like its own form of foreplay.

Once they were inside, she pushed the door softly shut, turning to face him.

Mason looked around the room just for a second, then back to her — gaze lingering, heat unmistakable.

“Still nervous?” he asked gently, stepping closer, his voice lower now.

Adeline shook her head slowly, pulse fluttering again as her hand reached for his.

“No.” she whispered. “Just... really aware of how much I want this.”

His breath caught — just for a moment — before he leaned down and kissed her, slow and full of something that had been building between them since the beginning.

Mason’s kiss was deliberate — slow at first, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth, the soft sigh that escaped her lips when he deepened it. His hands moved to her waist, fingers splaying wide before slipping lower, gripping the curve of her hips and then her ass — pulling her closer, until she was flush against him, chest to chest.

A soft gasp left Adeline as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. She clung to him, arms looped around his shoulders, mouths meeting again and again as he walked the two of them toward the bed with steady intention.

He sank down onto the edge of the mattress with her still wrapped around him, their lips never breaking apart. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently, and it only spurred him on — each kiss messier, deeper, his control thinning with every breath she stole from him.

Then, he laid her back, carefully, like she was something delicate — even though everything about the way they touched said otherwise. Adeline’s breath hitched as she pushed the robe off her shoulders and let it fall open.

Mason froze for a moment, taking her in.

“Fuck.” he muttered, voice gone thick. “You’re—” He cut himself off, a half-laugh, half-groan under his breath. “That lingerie should be illegal.”

Adeline smirked, but her cheeks flushed. “Gonna arrest me for it?”

Then, he was kissing her again, deeper now — hungry. He shifted onto the bed with her, settling between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin.

Adeline arched into him, body burning everywhere he touched. Her fingers weaved back into his hair, pulling him impossibly close. She could feel his weight, his heat, every beat of his heart echoed in hers. Her breath caught when his lips moved down to her neck, slow and hot, and her body trembled under him.

It was like a fuse had been lit and neither of them knew how to put it out. And honestly, neither of them wanted to.

Mason's lips dragged along the curve of Adeline’s neck, warm and unhurried, his breath sending tiny shivers down her skin. She tilted her head, granting him more access, her fingers still buried in his hair, her thighs instinctively tightening around his waist.

“You’re impossible to ignore.” he murmured against her throat, his voice so low it barely made it past the thrum of blood in her ears. “You know that, right?”

Adeline’s nails gently grazed the back of his neck. “I could say the same about you.”

He smiled against her skin, one hand smoothing up her side, fingertips brushing the edge of her bra strap. He deftly unhooked her bra, pulling it off, and let his gaze roam over her. He took a moment to admire her, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand cupped her other breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. Adeline arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Mason continued his exploration, his mouth trailing down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He spread her thighs wider, settling between them, his breath, hot against her most intimate place.

“Mase...” she whispered, her voice a plea.

He looked up at her, a wicked smile playing on his lips, then, leaning down and running his tongue along her slit. Adeline cried out, her hands gripping the sheets, her body arching off the bed.

He took his time, exploring every inch of her, his tongue circling her clit, his fingers sliding into her, curling up to hit that sweet spot inside. Adeline’s moans filled the room, her body writhing under his touch. He brought her to the edge, then backed off, his fingers replacing his tongue, his mouth moving to her inner thigh, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Mase.” she whispered, her body arching, seeking more. “I need you.”

He looked up at her, a smirk on his lips. “Yeah?” he teased, his fingers still moving inside her, his thumb pressing against her clit.

“I—I'm coming.” she said, her voice hoarse with need.

His mouth closed over her clit, his fingers picking up speed. Adeline’s body tensed, her moans growing louder, more insistent. Mason, sensing her need for silence, quickly moved his hand, covering her mouth gently but firmly. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire and a touch of dominance. Adeline’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded, her body trusting his touch.

Her orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing beneath him. Her muffled moans were captured by his hand, the vibrations of her pleasure humming against his palm. Mason slowed his movements, gentling her down, his lips pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs, his hand still covering her mouth, silencing her cries.

Adeline, her body still trembling, reached down and pulled Mason up, her lips meeting his in a fierce kiss. She could taste herself on him, and it only spurred her on. She pushed him onto his back, straddling him, her hands roaming his chest, his abs, his hips. She took his length in her hand, slowly, a smirk on her lips as she felt him pulse in her hand.

Mason groaned, his hands tangling in her hair, his hips bucking up to meet her. She took him deep, her eyes watering slightly, but, not once did she stop.

Mason’s groans turned to curses, his body tensing, his hands gripping her hair tighter. “Ady.” he warned, his voice hoarse. “I’m close.”

She looked up at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. With a final groan, Mason came, his body shaking, his hands still tangled in her hair.

Adeline crawled up his body, a satisfied smile on her face. Mason pulled her down, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. “That was… incredible.” he murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Adeline smiled, snuggling closer, her eyes already closing. “Yes, it was.” she agreed, already drifting off to sleep, a satisfied smile on her face.

But Mason wasn’t done. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. He rolled her onto her back, his body covering hers. He looked into her eyes, a question there. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. He positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in slowly, inch by inch, filling her completely. They both moaned, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He started to move, his hips thrusting against hers, slow and deep. She met his rhythm, their bodies syncing in a primal dance. The room was quiet, their breaths the only sound, mingling in the small space between them. Mason reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in small, deliberate circles. He could feel her body tensing, her breaths coming faster, and he knew she was close.

Sensing her impending cry, Mason quickly moved his hand, gently, but firmly covering her mouth. He looked into her eyes, a mix of dominance and tenderness in his gaze. Adeline nodded slightly, understanding his intent. Her body tensed further, her eyes flaring with intensity as her orgasm hit. She moaned into his hand, the sound muffled, her body convulsing beneath him.

Mason slowed his movements, drawing out her pleasure, his lips pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. He held her as she rode out her orgasm, his body covering hers, his weight a comforting anchor.

As Mason's own release began to build, he picked up the pace, his breaths growing ragged. Adeline wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, locking him in place. Mason moaned deeply, the sound vibrating in his chest. "Shit." he whispered, his voice hoarse with need, his body shaking with the effort of holding back.

Her legs, tightened even more, urging him on, her whisper in his ear, "Show me how much you need this, Mase." With a final, deep thrust, Mason came, his body trembling, his moan a low, guttural sound in her ear. He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat, his heart pounding in time with hers. They lay there, their bodies entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal.

Mason rolled onto his side, pulling Adeline with him, their legs still tangled, their bodies still touching. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "You are absolutely breathtaking, Alderidge." he said, his voice low and sincere.

Adeline’s lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile, her cheeks still flushed from everything they’d just shared. Her hand found his forearm, fingers gently wrapping around his wrist as his touch lingered on her face.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mount.” she murmured, her voice hushed in the dim light of the bedroom. There was a teasing edge to her words, but her gaze held something deeper — something that made Mason’s chest tighten just a little.

He chuckled quietly, but the sound faded as his thumb brushed across her cheekbone. “I mean it.” he said, more serious now. “That wasn’t just...”

“Casual.” she finished for him softly.

“Yeah.” He nodded once, like the word itself tasted wrong in the context of what had just happened between them.

Adeline’s eyes didn’t leave his. “I know.”

He exhaled slowly, almost like relief. And for a moment, they simply stared at each other — not in search of reassurance, but in mutual understanding. It wasn’t just about the physical. It never had been. It was the way she laughed when Lily said something wild. The way she looked at Mason when she didn’t think he was paying attention. The way she let him in, even when it scared her.

“I like this.” she said quietly, her fingers moving up his arm, resting at his bicep. “Being with you. Even... when it’s too much.”

Mason leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against hers. “Then, let’s not overthink it. We don’t have to call it anything, yet. But I want more of this. More of you.”

A moment passed, full and quiet and perfect.

Then Adeline smiled again — that small, sure smile he was quickly becoming addicted to. “You’ve already got me, Mase.” she whispered.

He kissed her again — softer this time, slower. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just... right.

And, when they finally settled under the sheets, still tangled, her head tucked beneath his chin and his hand resting low on her back, neither of them said another word.

They didn’t need to.

(...)

The apartment was quiet, bathed in the muted blues and grays of the early dawn. A soft glow slipped through the edges of the curtains, casting gentle shapes across the floor. Adeline blinked awake slowly, her body warm and comfortably heavy. It took her a second to remember why — and then she felt it.

Mason’s arm draped around her waist, his chest steady against her back, his breath slow and warm near the curve of her neck.

She smiled.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, Adeline lifted his arm and slipped from the bed. Her feet touched the cool floor, her skin still tingling with the afterglow of the night. She tugged his shirt — the one he’d taken off hours ago — over her head before quietly padding out of the bedroom.

Her first instinct was to check Lily’s room.

She opened the door just enough to peek inside. The small figure lay curled up beneath the blankets, clutching her worn-out stuffed bunny, her breathing soft and peaceful. Relief loosened something in Adeline’s chest. She closed the door just as gently and made her way to the kitchen.

The water was cool as it slid down her throat, but her mind was still warm — with the feel of Mason’s skin against hers, his mouth, his hands, his voice low in the dark. She shook her head at herself, lips curved as she set the glass down and walked toward the balcony door.

It had become a small ritual since she’d been staying in his flat — stepping out into the quiet city just before sunrise, watching the skyline blur into day. It grounded her, reminded her she was still here, still trying, still building something new.

She wrapped her arms around herself as the breeze kissed her skin. The view from Mason’s flat stretched far — rooftops, cranes, the glow of streetlights still lit below. Manchester was waking up, slowly.

Her fingers played lightly with the hem of his shirt. She could still feel him — his warmth, the way he held her without hesitation, like he’d been waiting to.

A sound behind her caught her attention — soft footsteps, then, the creak of the sliding door.

She didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

The sliding door clicked softly as Mason stepped onto the balcony behind her. She didn’t turn right away — just smiled to herself, arms still folded across her chest, the wind brushing through her loose hair.

She felt him before he touched her — his presence warm, heavy, now in a way that caught her off guard. A second later, his arms slipped around her waist from behind, drawing her back against him. His chin came to rest on her shoulder as he inhaled slowly, like he was trying to memorize the way she smelled after sleep.

“I figured you’d be out here.” he murmured, voice low and husky with sleep.

Adeline leaned back into him with a soft hum. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. “Missed you, though.”

She smiled, cheeks heating as his hands roamed lazily — one resting under her t-shirt, the other skimming the curve of her thigh, entirely unbothered by the open air around them. His fingers traced absent patterns on her skin, slow and teasing.

They stood like that for a while, quiet, swaying ever so slightly as the sky behind the city shifted from grey to orange. She reached up and tangled her fingers with his, holding his hand against her.

Then, her phone buzzed on the balcony table.

She reached for it, still pressed against him, and lit up the screen.

Stella: Babe, I swear if the only reason you’ve ghosted me all day is because you’re too busy having sex with Mason, I’m going to scream. Or cheer. Maybe, both.

A laugh escaped Adeline before she could stop it.

Mason leaned over her shoulder. “What?”

She turned, grinning as she held the screen up for him to read. “Stella is either worried or very proud of me.”

He read the text, eyebrows lifting before a low chuckle left his chest. “She’s not wrong, technically.”

“No.” Adeline agreed, grinning as she slid her phone back down and turned in his arms. “She’s very… accurate, actually.”

Mason’s hands slid down to her hips, gripping her softly, thumbs brushing under the hem of his own shirt on her. “Should we give her more reasons to cheer?”

Adeline laughed again, but her fingers curled around the back of his neck as she leaned up to kiss him — slow, a little lazy, the kind that melts into smiles halfway through.

When she pulled back, her lips barely brushed his. “You’re insatiable.”

He nipped gently at her mouth. “Only when it comes to you.”

She rolled her eyes, playfully, but her arms stayed around his neck. “We should go back inside.”

Mason dipped his head to kiss her jaw, her neck. “Why? Balcony’s got a decent view.”

Adeline gave him a look. He gave her one right back — smug, a little too proud of himself.

And, when she slipped her hand into his and tugged him back toward the door, he followed without hesitation.

(...)

Mason stirred slowly to the soft press of lips against his neck.

He smiled before he even opened his eyes, warmth curling deep in his chest as Adeline's mouth found his cheek next, then the corner of his jaw. Her breath was gentle against his skin, and when he finally cracked his eyes open, her face was right there, tucked close, eyes still heavy with sleep but glowing with something sweeter.

“Morning.” she whispered, her voice low and close and just for him.

He hummed, fingers instinctively tightening around her waist. “If this is how you wake me up from now on, I don’t think I’ll ever need an alarm again.”

Adeline laughed softly, letting her nose brush his. “You’d miss training.”

“Worth it.” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Though… I do have to go in today. Early session.”

Adeline let out a quiet groan, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “I’ve got a shift to cover. Not looking forward to it.”

He shifted slightly so he could look at her better. “Elliot?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I just… I don’t want any drama. Especially after this. After—us.” Her fingers played lightly at the edge of the sheet. “It was such a good day yesterday. I don’t want anything to take that away.”

Mason leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “It won’t. You can handle him. But also…” His tone turned lighter, teasing. “I know something that might help start your morning off a little better.”

“Oh, do you?” Adeline teased, her voice low as she traced the edge of Mason’s collarbone with her fingertip, the sheet slipping further down her arm.

His eyes followed the movement, slow and intent. “Yes.” he said, his tone matching hers.

Mason’s hand found her hip beneath the sheet, fingers sliding over bare skin with deliberate slowness. “Come shower with me, Alderidge.” he murmured against her mouth, lips brushing but not quite kissing. “Before I decide to make you stay in this bed all day.”

Adeline let out a soft laugh, but it melted into a gasp when his palm moved across her lower back and around to her thigh, pulling her leg over his waist. “You’re getting a little handsy, Mount.” she whispered.

“Just catching up on lost time.” he said, kissing beneath her jaw, his hand now firmly cupping her ass, pressing her flush against him.

“You’re insatiable, Mase.” she said, though she made no move to stop him — quite the opposite, her nails grazed the back of his neck as he kissed lower.

“Only with you.” he murmured, his other hand slipping between her thighs, fingers grazing where she was already warm.

Adeline’s breath caught, and for a second, the only sound in the room was the rustle of sheets and the soft pull of their breathing. Her body curved toward his instinctively, helpless under the heat curling through her.

He tilted his head, brushing his mouth along her throat. “Still thinking about saying no to that shower?”

She let out a shaky exhale, lips against his temple. “I think I’d follow you anywhere right now.”

His grin was pure trouble. “Good.” he whispered, pushing the sheet away completely. “I wasn’t planning on going alone, anyway.”

Adeline slipped out of bed first, bare feet brushing the warm floor. Mason followed close behind, just as unbothered by their lack of clothes. The bathroom was only a few steps away and Adeline padded in first, heading toward the sink to tie her hair up.

That’s when Mason caught sight of himself in the mirror.

The faint, blooming marks on his back — scratches mostly, a few deeper streaks — stood out against his skin. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with something between amusement and pride.

He smirked, catching her gaze in the reflection. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hide these for long."

Adeline smiled at him through the mirror. “I don’t recall hearing any complaints.”

He stepped closer, chest brushing her back, his hands finding her waist like a reflex. “No, because I was too busy losing my mind.”

She laughed, breath catching slightly when his fingers traced along her sides, slow and possessive.

“You’re not exactly innocent, either.” she murmured, glancing at her own reflection — at the shadow of his handprints still faint on her hips.

“Good.” Mason lowered his mouth to her ear, voice dropping. Then, he reached past her and turned on the shower. The sound of rushing water filling the quiet space.

Adeline looked at him then, eyes holding his. No more teasing smiles. Just something hotter, deeper.

Without a word, he took her hand and guided her under the spray.

The hot water cascaded over their skin, the steam fogging up the glass of the shower. Mason's lips lingered on Adeline’s neck, his hands sliding down her sides with a sense of urgency, a promise of more to come. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her body shifting closer to his, as they both felt the heat build between them once again. Their lips met in another kiss, more heated, more desperate this time, their moans muffled by the intensity of their connection.

Mason's hands were all over her — trailing down her back, his touch moving lower, more passionate. His lips wandered to her collarbone, down her neck, to her chest, pulling soft sounds from her throat with every brush of his lips. Adeline’s chest was rising and falling faster, and she could feel her body responding to his every touch.

But, just as Mason moved to kiss her again, a sharp knock echoed from outside the bathroom door. It was a sudden, jarring sound that made Adeline’s heart race — her breath catching as she pulled back from Mason, her eyes wide with shock, like she’d been caught committing a crime.

Another knock, this time followed by the unmistakable, sleepy voice of a certain little one. “Mommy? Are you awake?”

Adeline’s whole body tensed. “Oh my God.” she whispered, pulling back from Mason with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “It’s Lily.”

“Wait—” Mason blinked.

“What is she doing awake?! It’s five in the morning!” Adeline whisper-yelled, gripping her wet hair in one hand like she could somehow rewind time. “She doesn’t wake up before eight! Minimum!”

She nearly slipped as she tried to grab her towel, catching herself on the wall with a breathless laugh. “Of course, she picks today to become an early riser.”

Mason smirked through the steam, but she shot him a wide-eyed look of warning.

“Don’t laugh! She can’t see you here. She will never unsee this, Mase. Stay. In. The. Bathroom.” she ordered, finger pointing dramatically toward the tiles like it was a commandment.

“You're the boss.” Mason raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning.

Adeline groaned softly, then stepped closer — water still dripping from her skin — and kissed him, quick, but warm, a spark in her eyes. “We're not done.” she murmured, lips brushing his before she pulled away.

Then, tightening the towel around her body and trying to compose herself, she rushed out of the bathroom toward the door.

Adeline cracked it open, just a little bit, poking her head out with what she hoped was a very natural, very 'I’ve-been-asleep-all-night' look on her face.

There stood Lily, barefoot in her pajamas, clutching her little stuffed bear by one arm. Her curls were a sleepy mess, and her eyes still blinked slowly, like she wasn’t fully awake.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Adeline said, voice light but tight. “What’s up? Did you have a bad dream?”

Lily yawned and shook her head. “No. I just wanted to know if I could come cuddle.”

Adeline’s heart clenched and melted all at once. Her baby. At the worst possible moment.

“Oh, my love…” she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder quickly — thankfully the bathroom door was shut. “Can you give me just a few minutes? Mommy spilled some water… a lot of water, actually. And I need to clean it up.”

“Are you okay, mommy?” Lily blinked again.

“Totally okay! All good! Great!” Adeline laughed, maybe too loud. “Just… bathroom chaos. Go lie down for two minutes, I’ll be right there, promise.”

“Okay.” Lily frowned, clearly not impressed by the delay, but nodded.

As she padded off down the hallway, Adeline slowly closed the door, exhaling like she’d just dodged a missile. Then, she turned, leaning against the door and stared at the closed bathroom for a second before cracking up softly.

“Come out, Mase.” she said towards the door.

The bathroom door creaked open slightly, Mason peeking out with a towel around his waist and a ridiculously amused look on his face. “So… everything under control?”

Adeline laughed again, padding barefoot back to him. “She just wanted to cuddle. And now, I feel like the worst mother and the horniest woman alive.”

Mason tugged her gently by the waist. “Well, you’re definitely the hottest.”

“Don’t start.” She shook her head, nose brushing his.

“You started it.” His lips hovered over hers.

And just like that, Adeline gave him another lingering kiss, even as she sighed into his mouth. “You'll have to go before she asks for cartoons and breakfast.”

“Worth the risk.” He grinned, clearly not moving an inch.

(...)

[trippiexlove]

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Ch.8

Previous Part

Before she could fully absorb the scene, the distinct sound of a door buzzing open at the far end of the room drew her attention. Her breath hitched in her throat. As her gaze locked with his across the crowded room, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of that first, real-life connection.....

Josh walked in with the guard walking right behind. They maintained eye contact, even as the guard slightly turned him to take off the cuffs.

When the guard got them off he said something to him, causing Josh to nod before he made his way over to her.

Evren slowly rose from her seat, her palms suddenly damp as she smoothed them down her thighs. The fragile calm she'd managed to build shattered, replaced by a fresh wave of nerves with each deliberate step he took.

As he drew closer, a smile spread across his face, a flash of something possessive in his eyes. He stopped before her. "You just gon' stare, or you gonna give me a hug, ma?"

A nervous laugh escaped her before she stepped into his embrace. He squeezed her tightly, a brief claiming gesture, before leaning back, his hands lingering at her waist.

"Damn," he murmured, his gaze sweeping down her shorter frame. "You look even better in person. F'real."

Heat rushed to Evren's cheeks, and she shyly looked away for a fleeting moment before meeting his eyes again. "Thank you," she replied, her own gaze taking in his imposing 6'2 figure. He's even bigger than I imagined. "You look good too, Josh."

They took a seat at the table, both just couldn't take their eyes off each other. Evren felt a little shy under his gaze but maintain eye contact. 

"Damn," he repeated softly, a genuine wonder in his voice, the dimple in his cheek deepening with his smile. "Can't believe you're actually here right now."

"I know, this is crazy," she admitted, biting her lower lip, her fingers twisting together nervously on the tabletop. Josh's gaze dropped to her restless hands, and he reached out, covering them with his.

"You ain't got to be nervous, ma," he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "I want'chu to feel comfortable 'round me." The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into her, easing the knot in her stomach.

She nodded sending him a small smile, "You're right, it's just like being on the phone, except now we're face to face" 

Josh agreed, a slow nod of his head. "Plus," a playful glint returned to his eyes, "I like to make yo' fine ass smile."

He chuckled, a low rumble, as she playfully rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "There you go, being a flirt."

"It's just who I am, baby," he leaned back in his chair, a shrug in his broad shoulders. "Now that we got all that out the way, how was your week?"

"Besides Dr. Rhodes being on his bullshit," Evren shook her head, a frustrated roll of her eyes, "I got called into HR because of what happened."

Josh's eyebrows drew together, a protective shadow crossing his features as he crossed his arms over his chest. "What they say to you?"

"They just questioned me on what happened," she mirrored his posture, crossing her arms and leaning slightly forward on the table. "He told them that I knew who did it. I told them I didn't know anything" Josh didn't let the fact that she lied for him go unnoticed.

A dangerous edge entered Josh's voice, the tone low and firm. "Just say the word, Evren, and he won't be botherin' you no more. Promise you that."

Evren shook her head, a familiar understanding of the type of time Josh was on passing between them. "There's no need for that, Josh. You don't need to get in any more trouble because of me."

Josh sucked his teeth, sitting up straighter in his chair, his gaze intense. "You dealin' with me now, Evren. Ain't nobody gon' mess with mine, that includes you. He try anything else, you let me know. I'll get that handled." A shiver ran down Evren's spine, a mixture of apprehension and a thrilling sense of being fiercely protected.

"I will let you know," she confirmed, meeting his unwavering gaze. He nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. The heavy atmosphere eased slightly as they shifted the conversation, falling into the comfortable rhythm of their usual banter, teasing and joking with one another. Then, a thoughtful expression crossed Evren's face. "So," she began, her tone shifting, "what is it that you wanted to tell me in person?"

The easygoing air around Josh vanished. His face hardened, his jaw flexing subtly. "I know you haven't pressed 'bout asking why I'm here, but I know you're curious 'bout it." He held her gaze, waiting for her acknowledgment. Evren nodded slowly, a sense of anticipation building within her, urging him to continue. He took a breath and began to tell the story of what had happened. 

~7 years ago~

The bass throbbed through Crimson, Josh's family's nightclub, a relentless heartbeat beneath the strobing lights that carved stark angles into the smoky haze. In the VIP section, perched above the writhing mass of bodies, Josh leaned against the plush velvet, a glass of amber liquid untouched. His dark eyes, however, were anything but still. They darted, cataloging, assessing. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Something felt off. Too many unfamiliar faces in their territory tonight.

Kehlani, a vision in a dress that shimmered like captured starlight, leaned into him, her warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over Josh. "Come on, baby," she murmured, her voice a silken thread against the music's pulse. "You've been watching everyone like they're about to sprout wings. Just one dance?"

"Just the energy feels wrong tonight." he replied, his gaze flicking back to her, a fleeting smile touching his lips. "Too many new faces."

His eyes continued their restless sweep, noting the way certain groups huddled, the intensity of gazes that occasionally flickered their way and lingered a fraction too long. Years steeped in the Bloodline's world had honed this constant vigilance into an instinct.

Kehlani sighed, a playful exasperation in the sound. "Oh, here we go. 'Too many new faces.' It's Friday night, Josh. This is what happens. Relax. You own the place, remember? No one's going to cause trouble under your roof."

She took his hand, her touch a warm anchor. "Please? Just one song baby. Let me feel you close."

He looked at her then, truly saw the bright anticipation in her eyes, the genuine curve of her smile. He wanted to believe her, desperately wanted to shake off this premonition that clung to him like a shadow.

"'ight," he conceded, a touch of reluctance in his voice. "One dance. But we stick close."

Relief lit up Kehlani's face as she pulled him to his feet. The music surged as they left the relative sanctuary of the VIP section and merged into the throng on the dance floor. The shift was immediate, a wave of heat, sweat, and raw energy engulfing them. Kehlani took his hands, her body a fluid extension of the rhythm. Josh, initially stiff, found himself drawn into her joy, the music slowly unwinding the tension in his shoulders.

After a few songs, her breath warm against his ear, Kehlani said, "My drink's empty. I'll be right back, okay? Don't disappear on me."

"I'll be here," he promised, watching her navigate through the dancers towards the bar. But even as he tried to lose himself in the music's insistent beat, his gaze continued its silent patrol. A knot of unease tightened in his stomach as the minutes stretched and Kehlani didn't reappear. He glanced at the bar, but couldn't spot her in the crowd. A seed of suspicion, cold and unwelcome, began to take root.

He decided to find her. As he moved through the packed dance floor, a figure stepped directly into his path, blocking his way. The man was broad-shouldered, his eyes hard and glinting with a hostile intent that went beyond a simple accidental collision.

"Well, well," the man sneered, his voice cutting through the music. "Look what we have here. A prince in his little kingdom."

Josh stopped, his senses immediately on high alert. "I don't know you. Move."

The man chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, you'll know me soon enough. My name's Carmelo. Yo' family got somethin' we want? We're here to stake claim. The Bloodline's reign is over."

A cold fury coiled in Josh's gut. "You're stepping into territory you can't handle."

"Territory?" Carmelo laughed again, louder this time. "This whole damn city is about to be our territory. Your time at the top is finished. Tonight's just the beginning." He gestured subtly with his head towards the edges of the dance floor. "You see all these new faces you were so worried about? They're mine. And they're ready to take what's yours."

The air crackled with menace. Josh's hand instinctively drifted towards the small of his back. "Yo' ass must be mistaken."

"The only mistake was letting you parasites run this town for so long." Carmelo's hand flashed inside his jacket, emerging with the unmistakable glint of steel. "To for y'all to move on over."

In a heartbeat, Josh's own weapon was in his hand, the familiar weight a grim reassurance. The sharp click of the safety releasing sliced through the sudden hush that had fallen around them.

"Don't be stupid," Josh warned, his voice dangerously level.

Then, the world exploded. The deafening roar of gunfire ripped through the club's festive atmosphere. Screams erupted, sharp and piercing, as bodies crumpled to the floor. Flashes of muzzle fire illuminated the terror etched on the faces around them. Josh fired back, his movements honed by years of a life lived in the shadows, precise and deadly amidst the chaos.

"JEY!" The shout rippled through the panicked crowd. The club's security, usually a discreet presence, moved with brutal efficiency, carving a path through the pandemonium. Jimmy, Josh's twin, appeared at his side, his face a mask of grim urgency.

"Let's go! Now!" he grabbed him by the shirt roughly, pushing their way through the crowd.

They moved swiftly through the carnage, leaving a wake of terror and confusion. Josh's eyes darted frantically, searching for Kehlani amidst the chaos. "Kehlani!" he yelled over the din.

"She's not here, let's go!" Jimmy shouted back, pulling him forward. "The cops will be swarming this place any minute, we got to go uce."

Reluctantly, Josh allowed himself to be dragged away, the image of Kehlani swallowed by the chaos solidifying a cold dread in his gut. He clung to the hope that she had simply been scared and left already.

Days bled into one another, each one marked by Kehlani's continued silence. Then, one ordinary afternoon, as Josh was out, a police car pulled him over. The officer's words hit him like a physical blow: a warrant for his arrest. He was being charged with the murder of Carmelo Hayes. Confusion warred with a growing unease.

The courtroom was a stark, sterile contrast to the vibrant chaos of the nightclub. Josh sat at the defense table, his face a carefully constructed mask of confusion and disbelief. He had no idea who Carmelo Hayes was. The prosecution's case was circumstantial but tightening. Then, the prosecutor called their next witness.

A hush fell over the room as Kehlani walked to the stand.

Josh's breath hitched. His carefully constructed composure fractured. He stared at her, a whirlwind of disbelief, betrayal, and a dawning, horrifying understanding churning within him. Kehlani kept her gaze fixed on the prosecutor, her posture stiff and formal. She avoided any contact with Josh, her eyes flitting anywhere but towards him. In that deliberate avoidance, he read more than any direct accusation. The vibrant memory of her smile on the dance floor, the warmth of her hand in his, turned to ash in his mouth. He watched, a cold fury beginning to simmer beneath his controlled exterior, as the woman he had trusted, the woman he had danced with just days ago, began to calmly and deliberately weave a tapestry of lies that painted him as a cold-blooded killer. Each fabricated detail, each carefully constructed falsehood, tightened the knot of rage in his chest.

He clenched his jaw, his hands fisting beneath the table. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his turmoil. His gaze flickered across the room, finding Jimmy sitting stoically in the gallery. Their eyes met, and Josh gave the barest of nods, a subtle inclination of his head, a silent communication forged through years of shared blood and unspoken understanding. It was a promise, a vow. This isn't over. Jimmy's own imperceptible tightening of his jaw was the only acknowledgment he needed. The pieces clicked into place with sickening finality. Carmelo's words in the club, Kehlani's disappearance, the inexplicable murder charge – it all coalesced into a single, devastating truth. He had been set up. And the blade that had pierced him deepest was wielded by the very person he had offered his heart.

~Flashback over~

Evren sat, wide-eyed and silent, absorbing the weight of Josh's story. The betrayal by his ex-girlfriend resonated deeply, a pang of sympathy tightening her chest. Without thinking, she reached across the cold metal table, her hand covering his. A small, comforting squeeze offered. "I'm so sorry she did that to you"

Josh gave her hand a brief press, then shrugged, a dismissive gesture. "It's all good, ma. That shit happened years ago. The situation gon' get handled eventually." The casual tone didn't quite mask the underlying steel in his voice, a hint of something darker simmering beneath the surface.

Evren caught the subtle shift in his tone, the almost dangerous undertow. Before she could voice her concern, a sharp, "Time's up!" echoed from a guard. A wave of disappointment washed over Evren, the brevity of their time together hitting her anew. 

They both stood, facing each other in the constrained space. Josh's arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close, a possessive embrace that felt both comforting and a little defiant. His hand slid lower, settling firmly on the curve of her lower back.

"Watch those hands, Fatu," the guard's voice was firm, a clear warning. Josh's gaze remained locked on Evren's, his hand unmoving, a silent challenge.

"Thanks f'comin' to visit, ma," he murmured, his arm still a tight band around her, his eyes holding hers captive.

"It was no problem at all, Josh. I'm glad I came," she replied softly, her gaze flicking past him as another guard approached. Reluctantly, she stepped out of his embrace as the guard moved to place the cuffs back on his wrists.

"Get home safe, 'ight?" His eyes lingered on her lips as he subtly licked his own, looking back into her eyes. "Ima call you later."

A small nod was all she could manage, her throat tight with a sudden ache. She watched as he was escorted towards the heavy door, disappearing behind it once it clanged shut. A profound sense of loss settled over her, the visit ending far too soon.

Another guard gestured for her to follow, leading her back towards the waiting area. The walk back to her car felt longer than before, the silence amplifying the lingering warmth of Josh's touch and the sadness of his confinement. She started the drive home, his image already imprinted in her mind.

Evren walked into the hospital, heading to the nurses' station to clock in. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone approaching. She turned to see Zahria, a tired slump to her shoulders, laden with her bags.

Evren shifted to the side so Zahria could clock in. They walked towards the break room together to drop off their things. "You look beat." 

Zahria shook her head, letting out a weary puff of air. "Tell me about it. My upstairs neighbors decided to rearrange their entire apartment at three in the morning, if you catch my drift."

Evren chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Damn, they're at it again? Didn't you report them already?"

"Girl, management ain't gonna do a damn thing," Zahria rolled her eyes, pushing open the break room door. They moved to their usual lockers, stowing their belongings. "So spill it. How did the visit go?"

Evren couldn't suppress the wide smile that bloomed on her face. "It went really good, Zahria. I was a nervous as fuck at first, but he made it so easy to just be there."

"Ooh sis in love" Zahria teased poking her side.

"I wouldn't say 'in love'," Evren demurred, a softer smile touching her lips, "but I definitely care about him. A lot." She closed her locker, a thoughtful expression on her face as she tucked her scrub cap and phone into her pocket. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared or skeptical at first, but he's really opened my eyes to something new."

Zahria couldn't help but beam at her best friend. "I am genuinely happy for you, sis."

"Thank you," Evren said, returning the smile as they walked towards the main nurses' station. "He really opened up to me, didn't hold anything back. Told me everything about why he's locked up, and honestly, my heart just aches for him."

Zahria leaned over, curious "What did he tell you" Evren recounted Josh's story as she listened. "Damn that's fucked up what she did"

"It is," Evren agreed, a note of disappointment heavy in her voice. "I just hate that he has to serve all that time for that when he was set up."

Zahria studied her friend's face, her expression softening as she saw the genuine sadness in Evren's eyes. "So... you gonna wait it out for him?"

"I don't know," Evren sighed, a weariness creeping into her tone. "He's there, and I'm out here, living my life. I don't know if I'm ready to put everything on hold for someone who's on the inside, you know?"

"I understand that, Evren, trust me, I do," Zahria said gently. "But you two have connected so deeply in these last few months. Doesn't even a little part of you have real feelings for him?"

"A part of me does, yes," Evren admitted quietly. "But then the practical side of me kicks in, and I just think about how impossible it would be to really make that work with him being in jail."

"It's not like he's going to be in there forever," Zahria shrugged, a hopeful note in her voice. "Don't let the 'what ifs' stop you from at least exploring what's there." She gave Evren's shoulder a soft, encouraging pat before turning to get her assignment for the day, leaving Evren standing there, lost in her thoughts.

Let me know how y'all like this chapter ☺️

Previous Part

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[staysdelulus]

hihiii your fics are actually amazing 😭 idk if ur still actively doing any but can u pls do a skz imagine when they're in the middle of getting down and dirty with the reader & the reader suddenly tells them that it hurts

Definitely did not see this a whole 4 months later- But here you go!

Stray Kids Imagine (MDNI) Member will not be named (up to the reader's imagination); member will be referred to by "he" or "him".

Warnings: fem!reader, skz!bf, degrading, rough, oral (fem!receiving), fluff

Asks are open!! I'm back online :)

Word Count: 1973

--

"Babe."

You hadn't been paying attention, not really. It wasn't your fault, bundled up in his hoodie, crocheting while watching complications of your boyfriend on stage.

"Hey," you whisper, smiling softly, a yawn escaping your lips. He smiled back at you, moving closer to gently grab your yarn, putting it aside.

"Y/n," he says quietly, suddenly looking serious. "I've been thinking, you know. About us. I just... I wanted to know if you were saving yourself. For marriage, or-"

He breaks off, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as your own tinged pink with surprise. Giggling softly, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no. I just... I wasn't sure... I mean, I've never done anything before, so... you know."

He just nods, his eyes thoughtful before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I know, baby. I love you, yeah? I won't do anything you don't want to do."

And he kept his promise. Just like he always did. That night was your first time, losing your virginity to the man you loved most. Stretching our your walls, legs wrapping around his torso desperately as soft cries spilled from your lips.

You were... exquisite. Someone he loved more than life itself.

--

And then came the trip. You had told yourself you would be fine. It was just a week, for some promotion or something. A few days to relax in the city, attend the event, and come back. He had promised to text and call you, to send pictures of everything he knew you would love. To buy and shower you with gifts.

He had done just that, spending hours on the phone with you, even if it was in the middle of the night for him. It didn't matter as long as it was with you.

Everything with him was great. To put it bluntly, nevertheless embarrassing... the sex was great. Fuck. His fingers, the way they easily curled deep into you, the way his teeth would nip at your skin. It wasn't hard to feel that familiar ache in your core, that familiar wetness pooling in your panties.

To him, you were the embodiment of purity. Innocence.

And tonight... It was the night before he would come back. Still quite early at 9:00PM. You had retired to bed early, ready to wake up at the first light of dawn and greet him at the door. After all, you were sure fans would be mobbing the airport.

But as you sniffled, your body trembling with a sudden- sudden need, you couldn't stop yourself. The pillow you were hugging shifted between your legs, your hips moving softly as your teeth tugged at your lower lip.

You whimper, gasping at the thrill of pleasure that runs through you, when-

"SURPRISE!"

You gasp, eyes flying open and fixing on the door. He was back early. As your eyes caught his, his own darkened, a mixture of emotions suddenly flashing through his face.

He immediately strided over, grabbing the pillow and tossing to the floor as he snarled softly. "Y/n. What the fuck are you doing?"

Your lips tremble at his words, eyes wide. "I was- I missed- I just-"

He doesn't let you continue, though, his words sharp as he snaps. "Fuck, Y/n. I'm supposed to be the one who gives you pleasure, babe. You can't- You don't get to touch yourself like this, Y/n. You don't get to seek out pleasure without me. I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, the only one who gets to make you feel like this. Do you understand me?"

You only nod meekly, but he's not done. Far from it. "I came home early to surprise you. To worship you, to love you, to fucking devour you. And instead, I find you here, touching what's MINE. Touching yourself like some cheap little slut."

As you swallow back a cry, his eyes narrow, his tone deadly soft. "I should punish you for this. I should put you over my knee and spank you until you can't sit right for a week."

He had never been rough like this before. Never even hoped to suggest it. But now? He was too far in. His hands find your shorts, pulling them off before tearing apart your panties, your core slick and sheened with the need to be pleasured.

He grabs you, bending you over his knee, his own cock throbbing in his jeans."Fuck, look at you," he snarled, his voice rough with a mixture of anger and lust. "So fucking wet, so desperate for it. You really are just a needy little slut, aren't you?"

You cry out as he smacks you, tears blurring your vision as his words wash over you. A mixture of shame and need. Slap after slap, your bottom growing redder with each second.

"Count them," he commanded, his voice harsh and demanding. "Count each one, like the good little slut you are. Let me know how many times you need to be punished for touching what's mine."

His hand came down again, and he growled out the words, his voice dripping with a dark, twisted lust.

"This is what you get for being a greedy, disobedient little whore. This is what happens when you try to take your pleasure without me."

"Please, s-stop," you cry out, your eyes blurred. But he doesn't, continuing his relentless assault before turning you onto the bed.

As your back presses against the cool sheets, he spreads your thighs, pushing your legs up to reveal your core, open and pulsing, waiting for him.

"Fuck, look at this greedy cunt," he snarled, his voice rough and ragged with lust. "So fucking wet and ready. You really are just a set of holes for me to use as I please."

He buried his face between your legs before you could respond, his mouth latching onto your sex like a man starved. He sucked and licked and devoured you with a ferocity that stole your breath, his tongue delving deep into your folds to taste your essence.

He fucked you with his tongue, plunging it in and out of your clenching channel as he sucked hard on your clit, growling against your sensitive flesh. His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he held you open, keeping you spread wide and exposed for his oral assault.

As he pleasured you, he ground his denim-clad erection against the bed, the hard ridge of his cock throbbing and twitching with each desperate buck of his hips. It was clear how turned on he was, how much punishing and dominating you aroused him.

Your hands curled in his hair, trying to tug him off as you cried. He only growled, nipping at your inner thigh hard before continuing to eat you out. But when you tug again, he snaps.

"BAD GIRL!" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger. "Did I say you could stop? Did I say you could pull me away?"

He released one of your wrists to grip your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheek hard enough to bruise. He forced your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat, attacking it with sharp, stinging bites.

"You don't get to tell me no," he growled against your skin, his voice rough and menacing. "You don't get to pull me away when I'm punishing you. I decide when this is over, not you."

To emphasize his point, he bit down hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. His other hand slid down your body, grip your hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped marks.

"This is your punishment," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "This is what you get for being a disobedient little slut. You're going to take it, every last second of it, until I'm satisfied."

He frees his length, cock springing as his pants lay on the ground. As he pushes into you, you whimper. "H-Hurts- [H/n], it h-hurts-"

Sobs tear from your throat, growing louder with each passing second. Tears spilling down your face. For the first time, you felt the need to use it. "R-Red, [H/n], red- red! Red!"

He pulls away immediately, eyes wide. "Baby, Y/n- What-"

As you cry, body curling in on yourself, he feels his heart sink. Of course. Of course you scared her, you fucking- bastard. She's barely had an experience and here you are calling her a slut.

He stays quiet for a moment before speaking. "Can I hold you, baby? It's okay if you don't-"

His voice cracks slightly, the pain of the guilt weighing on his heart heavily. When you nod, sniffling, back to him, he gently wraps his own body around you, holding you loosely so you didn't feel suffocated. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Okay? I need you to know that. I did NOT mean to hurt you in any way with my body or my words."

He holds you, letting you turn to him as you cry into his chest. "H-Hurts," you manage to repeat.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Y/n. Tell me where it hurts? Please? Let me fix it. Let me make it better," he whispers.

His heart sinks further as you point to your chest. Your heart. The marks he had left, down there. He kisses each of those places, ready to pull away if you needed him to.

As your trembling body slowly stops quivering, he gently rolls you on your back. "Is this okay, baby?"

You nod, your eyes wide. "Just wanted you to be g-gentle. Just-"

As your breath hitches, breaking off slightly, he presses a kiss to your lips. "Shh, baby. I'll be slow, yeah? So slow. And you tell me if you need me to stop. Tell me to stop, and I'll stop immediately."

And with that, he enters you again. Slowly. Inch by inch. Waiting for you to nod, to say yes. To tell him you wanted him to continue. As his hips rocked slowly, thrusting in deep and pulling out all the way before burying himself there again.

He talks you through it, his voice rough with emotion. "Fuck, Y/n. You're beautiful, yeah? You feel so amazing, you feel like- like- fuck. Feel it, baby? Feel the way I'm burying myself in you, yeah? Feel the way your walls are clenching me, hm? So tight. So perfect, babe. Like you were fucking made for me."

With each word, you only let out louder cries. Louder moans. Climbing closer and closer to the edge. Encouraged, his hand delves down between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit furiously.

"Come for me, Y/n," he breathes, words raspy in his throat. "Fuck, Y/n-"

You come. Hard.

He continues to fuck himself deep into you, chasing his own release as he cries out. "Fuck- Y/n- Good girl- Shit-"

You squirt at his words. And he comes right there.

Without another word, he collapses besides you, gathering you in his arms. He lets you catch your breath, his own chest heaving. And when your legs stop trembling, he scoops you into his arms, bringing you into the bathroom.

He cleans you up that night, his touch gentle. Towels soft as he dries you off, dressing you in his clothes. "Get some rest, baby. I'll be here as you fall asleep, and I'll be here when you wake up, yeah?"

"I love you," you mumble sleepily, eyes drooping from exhaustion.

He chuckles, kissing you gently. "I love you, Y/n."

"Mm," you whisper. "And maybe we'll try out those other kinks of yours."

He gasps softly, eyes wide as you finally succumb to sleep. Well, fuck me, Y/n.

--

A/n: So sorry it took SO, SO long for me to do this ask, thank you for your patience :D <33

[carolingarts]

I'm just gonna expound on my Bob headcanons because...yeah. After my "thoughts on Wanda" thing I have a lot of thoughts and I'm kind of annoyed about some of the ones I've seen so let me just - break this down.

AS A PERSON:

this is a man who is familiar with Gen Z/Alpha internet lingo but he tells no one. So when the "New Avengers" are confronted with anything "Skibidi" or Ohio he plays dumb or mildly says "Well you *don't* have aura maybe?" but refuses to explain what the words mean and he won't - unless Yelena asks (and even then Yelena has kind of an idea.)

He can't cook worth shit but he likes baking tons mostly because following recipes is easy as hell, its on a box, it's brownies (and Yelena just side-eyes him the whole damn time but he laughs and shrugs)

If somebody makes a remark about his whole "problem" he just rolls his eyes and bounces it off him with a joke and if he's having a bad day the jokes get nastier (" Look, I'm crazy. I'm not stupid. There's a difference." "C'mon. Throw me a bone here. My life runs the gamut from normal guy to chicken on meth that'd mess with anybody...? man." "Yeah. Well. I'm gonna go sit in my box and take five minutes.") he always apologizes after. He's working on it.

If he remembers to vote he votes Green party. While his favorite was Captain America growing up, when it heads into the fourth of July he just starts to subtly drop hints about how much America sucks. He doesn't really care but he can quote a lot of facts about the failures of American policy. Red Guardian laugh. Bucky chuckles. John takes it very personally.

He fucking hates, *hates* *haaaates* cops. To the point that "oh you poofed a bunch of cops into the void. "huh. that happened. did they come back? ah. well good for them I guess." The comics don't talk about his family but in this case his dad was a cop in my HC so.

He's really good with numbers because the way he got to where he was was doing numbers for drug cartels (this man has an arrest record) and he is very, very good with taxes. So if he wasn't watching Allegra having seen her memories he threatens to look up her tax numbers. ("Are you threatening to kick my ass?" "No. I'll look at your tax returns")

WITH YELENA.

He tends to go to Yelena first to share triumphs and tribulations about anything he's learned or discovered. This also means she gets to deal with any "Sentry" moments. This varies from dealing with his "hey I did a cool thing" to his delusions of grandeur "It's because I'm fucking amazing and the rest of you fucking suck."

It's because he catches himself around her though, and he does, and he apologizes. To her credit she's set some pretty good boundaries with him and he respects that. They have a 15 minute rule if he's having a bad day or he recognizes he wants to share something mental health related.

He's turned her on to playing Mario Kart and gotten Red Guardian to play with them. he will never admit to either of them that he considers them the closest thing to family because he has no idea what their relationship is he just knows he is happy around him.

He has also turned her on to ASMR because it helps *him* fall asleep. She'll never admit some of it freaks her out but he swears it helps so she just humors him because okay sure watching videos of people pretending to brush your hair works and maybe it kind of does she won't admit it.

WITH ALEXEI

he's getting him to teach him Russian.

Despite having done every drug under the sun, he doesn't drink which confuses the hell out of the Red Guardian but having done quite a few drugs himself (as well as drinking), Alexei is probably his biggest sobriety partner. Sometimes people will find the two of them deep in conversation. If Yelena needs a break she'll send him to Alexei and Alexei will just grab him a little like scruffing a kitten with a "C'mon boy. You're talking to me now."

They go for drives. .

He does Alexei's taxes (or at least he tried. Then he determined he's going to prison because he never filed. so he'd go to prison if he tried to turn them in.)

The two of them talk communism with Alexei trying to convert him to a comrade. Bob doesn't care but he humors him.

WITH AVA

bob took Ava's remarks about "not having a childhood" really seriously so he started sending her cartoon recaps because he's obsessed with youtube. Stuff like Rugrats, Cartoon Network, Pokemon. When she asked him "Why" he lied and said that "It might be helpful in training because reading over what kids like might help with dealing with kids". She told him to stop - until she asked for more stuff about anime like pokemon. Just - stop spamming her email.

She's the one who teaches him meditation. His "bad" days are his and he doesn't show them to anybody but the one time she caught him - a rarity - she's the only person that ever has- she taught him meditation to keep himself grounded. it helps. he's grateful.

Sometimes Bob has a tendency to get annoyed with people who his friends are pissed off at which translated to a passed off hatred of Hank Pym, Scott Lang, and Hope Van Dyne. Ava was watching them on TV and just kind of rolled her eyes at them on TV making a casual remark about "stolen valor" for her father's work and Doctor Foster's. Bob's remark, "Do you want them here? I mean I'll hold them down, Drag um down even and lock them *down there* and you can just. Do what you want. Or I will. It'll be great!" No? Okay no. No I mean...bad idea. Yeah. Sorry sometimes...Just slips out." Sorry.

WITH WALKER

He does make the Gen Z/Gen Alpha lingo jokes at John mostly about not having Aura or Rizz. But he'll point out that he was "made in Ohio" technically and when John asks if he's okay or having an episode Bob will feel bad but he keeps up with the joke so he'll say yeah. It's just too good a joke to not keep going.

The whole reason that Bob has done any kind of training at all is because of John and he's gotten really good at it. He can actually put together a gun together and take it apart and put it together. He just hasn't shared he can do it with his mind *really really fast*.

He doesn't "like" the guy but he'll defend the guy. He doesn't like what he represents and he likes what they do to soldiers even less. When he was dealing, vets were some of his customers so whenever anybody from the government shows up he makes sure to dress extra nice and just sit and stare really really quietly trying to be as creepy as possible.

When they get close to either Bucky or John he doubles up on the staring and when Allegra gets close to either of them he'll just move up and sit even closer staring at her directly tilting his head even more animal like before smiling. Then when people afterwards ask him why he behaves like that he shrugs "I don't care what people think about me. They treat you guys like trained dogs. You're not. I don't give a shit what people think. They don't get to treat you like that."

He's not going to bend the shield back into place ever but he did buy Taco bell tacos and buy a big card that said "Have a smashing birthday" and he crossed that out and wrote "I'm sorry I smashed your shield."

WITH BUCKY

He's put together about Sam and Bucky falling out and he is trying to figure out how to approach the idea that Bucky should break away from Allegra. Or they should strike out on their own. Or maybe just disband. He's not sure how to play things yet.

He just doesn't want them to leave him and he doesn't want to leave them either because he's worried that if they leave then he'll snap and he feels like Bucky gets it but he can't talk to Bucky about that so he just kind of haunts him and tires to engage him in conversation because he's seen what Bucky went through and he knows that he might get it.

"You should get a pet." "What?" "You should get a pet man. I'm not saying everybody I'm saying. You. Like I know you've got this tough guy persona to maintain but you just strike me as a dude who needs like, a pet." "...Maybe you need a pet." "I've got a pet." "...No no! It's not you guys! wait that didn't come out right. Hang on it's um. hang on. It's a virtual pet! See it's a tamagotchi! I feed it, play with it. I had a dog growing up...I'm gonna go now."

Bucky doesn't scare him but the void knows that Yelena has to be the first to die, Bucky has to be the second. Yelena is the barrier preventing it's return to power, Bucky is the one who would organize people to stand against it.

WITH ALLEGRA

Allegra is a huge trigger for him. She avoids looking at him and tries to fake mother him whenever she sees him. It's hard to turn off that need for approval but he likes how people stand beside him.

That turns on that protective sense of "I've got to protect these people these people suck and don't want what's best for everybody otherwise they won't try and divide this whole team thing because something bad is coming."

If I really could control this I should just kill her. - is a regular thought Bob's had and it's the one thing he wishes all three of his personalities could agree on.

He is banned from seeing her but he still shows up anyway. It's gotten to the point where people have taken her aside and said point blank "Look. You need to stop asking to see him." "Why? He's-" "It's for your safety. We don't know what to do with him. And we don't know what he'll do to you. He doesn't like you. At all. He likes us. and he might hurt you."

To which Bob would respond, "No no, I wouldn't do thaaaat- I'd just y'know. Remind her. about her dad."

And he just stares.

"But that's private right?"

and he just spends the rest of the day alone and Allegra leaves.

Anyway those are my headcanons.

[bubblegumgothglados]

Hi! 🌸 Hello! 🌸

I found your "Types of brat" post and was wondering, what type of brat would a "I only brat because I get anxiety when I don't have control and need the control physically taken from me to let go" be? Asking for me (TwT) Cause I'm 100% a submissive, but I can't submit and don't WANT to submit until I'm sure my partner is fully ready and wanting to have control. Is this anything?

Thank you for any answers in advance! 🌸✨

The bdsm scene if every submissive was selective with their submission and every dominant was forced to prove not only their desire for dominance but also their ability and willingness to take that responsibility seriously.

...

Anyway

It really depends how you act after a dominant has taken your submission. Are you obedient once they've proven themselves to you? Do you feel they need to prove themselves to you every scene or after some other measure of time? And above all do you enjoy being bratty?

It could be that you're not a brat at all, that you're just selective with your submission (and rightfully so), which could be read as bratty by someone who's view is that submissives should automatically submit to anyone who shows them dominance

It could be that you fit best into 'type 1'; you seek reassurance that your partner cares about and that they want to, and are capable of, controlling you by breaking rules and making them pull you back into line

It could be that you best fit into 'type 3'; you have reasons for being bratty but ultimately you enjoy acting out and challenging your dominant

Or it could be something entirely different. If you don't feel like I've answered your question satisfactorily you're very welcome to send me a follow up ask or DM me or just reply to this directly. I'm more than happy to keep up this dialogue

Thanks for the ask <3

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 8

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Where's the reader? Includes the previous sneak peek.

Chapter Warning: Brief mention of previous attack.

You’re sitting on a roof somewhere in Queens when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You knew damn well you’d turned it off.

When you pull it out you see a coded message appear. The fact someone has managed to turn on your secure device and send you a message makes you feel uneasy. You glance around but don’t see anyone.

It takes a moment to establish what the message says but you realise the message is from Stark. He seems to be giving you a location.

You know Natasha’s slipped everyone’s numbers into your phone so you take the chance and send him a message.

You - Is this a mission or a safe house?

Tony - Well hello to you too Luna.

You - Please don’t call me that.

Tony - Why? It’s what you are.

You - I didn’t realise you all knew.

Tony - Well we do. Honestly there was a lot of whispering going on I was concerned there was a plan to overthrow the government but it was actually all because of you.

You - I don’t really know what to say to that.

Tony doesn’t initially reply.

You - So which is it Stark? A safe house or a mission because its a mission I need more than a location.

Tony - I’m not about to send our Luna onto a mission when she’s still recovering. It’s a safe house. One of my own personal ones. It’s fancy, has everything you need, cupboards filled, every streaming service you can imagine. Highly secure too. The others don’t even know about it.

You - You don’t have to do this Tony. I’m grateful but you really don’t have to. I don't want to make things awkward for you.

Tony - As much as you don’t want to admit it kid, you’re the Luna, I’m meant to be the pack Beta, although that’s not working out so well for me right now but that’s another story. I have a responsibility to make sure you’re okay. So please do what Mom and Dad ask and go to the safe house. It has a pool. It’s in the Hamptons.

A pool and the Hamptons did sound nice. Wait did he just call himself Dad?

You - Mom and Dad?

He replies with a photo of him and Pepper pulling sad faces.

You rolled your eyes.

You - Fine but don’t use that incredible woman and her sad face against me again.

You stood and put on your flight glasses and slipped your backpack back on your front. You pulled up your hood and pushed your wings out of your back. You weren’t sure where the new set of workout gear had come from but the set of leggings and matching zip up jacket that had appeared in the guest room drawer, fit you like a glove. Just as you were about to take flight you saw the Spider swinging around in the distance. Spiderling? Spiderboy? Whatever.

You pull out your phone and text Tony again.

You - You might want to check on the spider kid. Bruce told me you’d grounded him from his little street ops but I see him swinging right now.

Tony sends you another photo but this time it’s him looking exasperated.

You pocket your phone and take to the sky.

When Natasha gets home she finds a note with the watch she’d given you beside it.

You shouldn’t have done that without telling me. Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll be in touch.

She had no idea how you knew what her and the others had just done. You’ve said you’ll be in touch so you’ve not cut her off completely at least. Were you just pissed they’d not told you? A knock at the apartment door is followed by Clint and Wanda entering, both holding up similar notes.

Half an hour later Steve has summoned them all to the briefing room. It’s clear from the moment they step off the elevator that he’s pissed. The fact all of them refuse to say where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing makes it worse, as did him spotting Clint’s split knuckles. Steve’s ranting and Bucky’s sure he’s about to give an Alpha command to get them to give answers and not just the riddles they are giving now. He risks it and steps in.

“It’s about her, isn’t it?” Bucky asks.

They hide it well but he’s also an ex-assassin and the former Winter Solider sees the tells that confirm he’s right.

“She told me that it was complicated. That it was someone she used to trust.”

Natasha tilts her head slightly in interest.

“You spoke to her?”

“I did, she was having a tea out on the lawn with Pepper.”

The others turned to look at Tony.

“What? Oh if you’re asking me if he spoke to her, he did. Stepped in when super annoying number one got snippy with them too.” Tony replied.

“You did what?” Clint asked.

“Oh erm, Steve was…” Bucky went to reply before Clint cut him off.

“No not you! Him! You got snippy with them? With Y/N and Pepper?”

Steve took a breath and put his hands on his hips.

“I wanted to know where you were. I knew something was going on.”

It takes everyone by surprise when Clint starts moving to the door.

“You know what Rogers, fuck you. I ain’t telling you shit. I’ve been on your side through this whole thing. I'm away from my family, out of retirement to help cover the work whilst the dust settles. Putting everything I have on the line again, and you can stand there and make demands all you want but knowing you’ve been shitty to my pack sisters, one who also happens to be the Luna, when she’s dealing with enough right now, means I’m done. Come on.” He says to the others. “What we did today was to keep our girl safe. All whilst you were making a shitty first impression. Go fuck yourself.”

Clint leaves the room, with Wanda, Natasha, Vision and Bruce following.

Steve growls and takes a step to go after them. Bucky steps in front of him.

“Don’t.”

Steve huffs and throws himself down into one of the briefing room chairs. Realisation washing over him that he really had fucked up.

A few days later…..

Your mind wandered as you laid out on the lounger. As much as Stark had become a pain in your ass, he had good taste in safe houses. The Hamptons was a step up from hiding in a ditch in Scotland, plus every single one of your favourite foods were in the kitchen, and the cashmere blanket Pepper had apparently picked out especially for you, was definitely a special touch.

But your mind wandered to the last week. What a fucking week.

Get attacked my another agent ✔️

Have other agent threaten to throw you in The Raft ✔️

Run off and be extracted by your pack sister and brothers ✔️

Meet your true mates ✔️

Leave the compound without telling anyone ✔️

Receive a coded message from Stark directing you to his fancy pants safe house ✔️

You decided to distract yourself and the sound of the birds tweeting accompanied you as you read your latest smutty book. One of Laura’s recommendations. As the afternoon sun shone down on you your eyelids felt heavy and you could feel the pull of sleep.

You jumped as it was pulled away from you as your phone rang. Frowning you'd set it so only Tony, Pepper and Storm could call you. To everyone else it was on dark mode. Only one person would have the balls to override it.

“This better be good Romanoff.” You snarked, voice still croaky as you recovered.

“We have a situation.”

Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

TAGLIST

@animegirlgeeky @mrsevans90 @vicmc624 @elissanatok

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @hnnhbananananana @otterlycanadian @cherlenovix @imdoingathingmom @saltedcoffeescotch @jstarr86 @sidraaaaaaaaa @capswife @forgetmenotsexy

@hi172826 @ladyzombiielove @blonde-bansheee @verytyrantcat @nancymcl

[auchrauch]

A (not so) detailed post about the current project I'm working on

Bringing here a slightly more extended version of my post from bluesky. Please be nice because I might have one more thing to share with TGCF fandom. I want to make a short visual novel featuring hualian in post-canon. Emphasis on "want to" because with a project of this scale I can't guarantee that it'll end up as a fully finished thing. The original idea behind me starting this was simply "hualian having a wholesome day", though the mood slightly shifted towards something a bit more melancholic after I picked up a poem after which I named the game. (The poem's "Spring morning" by Meng Haoran). There is no continious heavy plot, just various SFW and NSFW routes which aren't connected between themselves (or are they?) I tried to include different dynamics, so you can expect to see the classics (Top HC/Bottom XL) as well as versatile hualian (these routes can be hidden if someone doesn't fancy it). I also should mention that my understanding of characters and their dynamic can differ from what's considered the "norm" in the fandom, but I refuse to slap OOC label on my work because that's how I percieved these characters while reading the book and I'll be sticking to it. Oh, and I'm also following the revised version so there could be an offhand mentions of events from the new extra or other small details like that. I'm planning to release the final SFW version of the game for free (if it'll be finished at all), though I'm still not sure if I should hide NSFW version behind a paywall. Maybe I'll make one-time purchase posts for intermediate beta-builds too, so people can have a glimpse of what is in the works. Ideally I'd like to have at least some monetary support while working on this project, but providing consistent updates and materials in the patreon format wouldn't work for me, since, aside from commissions to pay my rent, the other project I'm involved with as an artist already takes a lot of my time. So I can't give any dates and promises and will be simply working on this at my own pace. So far, I have a complete (not proofread and not fully edited) script for all the routes as well as a working base for the game in renpy. I'm also almost done with UI and I made a couple of backgrounds, but that's nothing compared to how many more of them I still need. (You'll be subjected to looking at the picture attached to the post over and over again at the every start of the game). For the next step, I'll probably focus on one route at a time and start filling them with visual assets. I also can't decide whether I should stick to British or American English because:

1) This stupid gaijin can't differentiate between the two anyway.

2) I already started using "arse" yet I lost all the "u"s from my "ou"s and now I don't know which to change.

I'd like to hear which one people prefer more. If you want to help in some way—I'm having trouble with sound design part as I'm locked out of purchasing anything from international sites/commissioning someone from overseas, and I don't want to risk commissioning assets for a NSFW lgbt game from anyone local since it' simply not a safe move. If you know any good resources that distribute sfx/sounds/music under a free flexible license please share! I'm using GDC royalty free archives but this obviously doesn't cover all my needs. Idk what else to say here. Send help? Prayers for my sanity? Donations so I can pay my rent??? God, what am I even doing. Here's the assortment of some early wips I already shared elsewhere:

[fickleminder]

the intern

Office!AU. There’s a charming new intern at your office.

Written for the Blacjak’s Prompt Roulette event organized by @obeymevents! My prompt was Office!AU 😬

"Hi! How's it going?"

You nearly jumped out of your seat. The handsome face beaming at you was unfamiliar, a stranger and an enigma. Who the hell was this cheery on a Monday morning?

"Um, I'm doing alright, I guess." You glanced around, but nobody seemed to be paying the two of you any attention. "Can I help you?"

"It's my first day here! Figured I'd take the office tour and get to know some people along the way!"

"Oh, I didn't see your introduction email…"

The man's grin dropped a few megawatts. "Introduction email?"

"I'm not sure if your boss mentioned this yet, but it's common practice for new hires to send out an email to the entire department on their first day," you explained. "Just a simple icebreaker, nothing fancy: a little bit about your background, your hobbies, which team you've been assigned to…"

"I'm uh— I'm just an intern! Interns don't have to do that, do they?"

"No, they don't. I guess you're good then."

Being an intern made more sense. No full time hire would be this enthusiastic about working a desk job forty hours a week. Interns could at least afford to count the days until they had to return their badges and never look back.

That being said, this man definitely seemed much older than most interns your company usually hired. A mid-career switch, perhaps? Either way, you were in no position to judge, and the least you could do was make him feel more welcomed here. Deciding to take a break from staring at your monitor all day, you introduced yourself. "Where are you seated? Who's your mentor?"

"Call me Yamamoto! My cubicle is right outside the printer room, and I'll be working under Lucifer!" Yamamoto adjusted his glasses, his eyes glinting with excitement as he leaned in. His cologne tickled your nose pleasantly. "Is it true that he'll fire you if you don't hand in your paperwork?"

You shook your head with a laugh, wondering if Mephisto had already gotten to the poor guy. "Lucifer is strict and has high standards, but he's also fair. I'll let you in on a secret: so long as you get your work done on time and show up for meetings, he won't mind if you come in a little late or leave a little earlier."

"Thank you, that's good to know!" Yamamoto checked his watch and pouted. "I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you! I hope you won't mind if I stop by to chat again?"

"Not at all," you smiled. Yamamoto was a breath of fresh air you didn't know you needed. Easy on the eyes too, especially with that slicked-back hair and sharp jawline. "I'll see you around."

.

.

.

"—never did ask, what do you do here?"

"I'm part of IT, but not front line support. Basically I'm supposed to step in only if there's anything the service desk needs to escalate or can't handle."

"Sounds like they call on you often."

"That obvious, huh? Those guys are supposed to be tech trained, and yet they come to me even for stuff they can find solutions to on the internet. It's really frustrating sometimes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You must be pretty busy then. I'm not imposing, am I? It's halfway through lunchtime and you're still at your desk…"

"Nah, I usually pack my own meals since it gets pretty crowded in the staff canteen. Speaking of, do you know where to go for food? I can recommend a few places if you want."

"Do tell!"

.

.

.

After the printer finally finished spitting out all of your documents, you put your phone away and gathered them up. The warmth from the papers was a soothing contrast to the chill of the air-conditioner, especially on this side of the floor. You clutched the stack close to your chest as you sighed and started making your way back to your desk.

"Are you okay?" Yamamoto's head popped up from behind the dividers of his cubicle. You'd forgotten this was where he sat. "That was a pretty loud sigh."

"I'm good. Nothing like freshly printed paper to make you feel like you're getting a warm hug," you joked.

Yamamoto was already halfway out of his chair with open arms before he caught himself. He cleared his throat with an awkward laugh. "Oh, sorry, I don't know what came over me. Haha…"

It was your turn to look concerned. "You doing alright there?"

"Yes, yes," he coughed into his fist before straightening with a smile. "If you have some time for a break, how about a coffee? I haven't tried all the capsule flavors yet."

"Sounds good to me!" You were ahead of schedule anyway. A third cup wouldn't hurt. "Let me put these away first and I'll meet you at the pantry."

.

.

.

"—heard he's ex-military, but he really doesn't seem like the type. He's bad at saying no, so more often than not we end up taking the shit other teams throw at us."

"Yikes, that's rough. I'll have to talk to Levi about that."

"Huh?"

"Uh, I mean, Lucifer wanted me to meet the different team leads as part of my program, for exposure! I could bring up your issue with him, if you like."

"That's really sweet of you, but unless you can convince him to give me a raise, don't worry about it. Just focus on your internship and learn all that you can, okay? I'll be fine; I've been doing this for years now."

"If you insist…"

.

.

.

"Four hot chocolates."

"Three, but I'll throw in one of the Christmas capsules."

"Deal." Yamamoto rummaged in his bag for sachets of caffeine-free tea. "I can't believe we have to resort to bartering for these things."

"Hey, when an unmentionable colleague constantly cleans out the pantry, you do what you gotta do: hoard and trade." You dug through your own stash hidden in a drawer. "At least the weekly refills are always on schedule."

"Is that code?" Yamamoto peered at the colorful text on your monitor as he handed you the tea. "I didn't realize you were a programmer too."

"Just a side project I'm working on when I have some time. It's supposed to help the service desk track cases better, and manage our hardware and software lifecycles," you explained. "Technically out of my job scope, but Levi's been pretty supportive since he thinks this could be a useful initiative with the enough manpower and resources. I just need to get a proof-of-concept working first…"

"Half of what you said flew over my head, but I'm rooting for you!" Yamamoto gave you a thumbs up before arching an eyebrow at the goods you handed him. "Wait, four hot chocolates?"

"Intern special." You winked and tossed the Christmas capsule towards him. "And because you're cute."

.

.

.

"I need you to drop whatever you're doing and head to management's floor."

"What— now? But Levi, we have that meeting in ten minutes…"

"Lucifer's orders. He wants to talk to you about an assessment or something. Don't worry about the meeting, I can tank it."

"You're my boss; shouldn't you be there too?"

"I would, but he asked for you only. Better not make him wait."

.

.

.

You knew — you just knew — it had to do with Yamamoto somehow. The guy had just wrapped up his internship and left last week, and now you were being called into the head honcho's office.

Did he leave negative feedback during his exit interview? Had you behaved unprofessionally? You did interact with him more than strictly necessary, especially since both of you were in different teams, but he never seemed to mind your company. In fact, Yamamoto was always friendly, inviting and—

—sitting in the CEO's chair, glasses off and hair slightly tousled and a freshly pressed suit fitting him in all the right ways.

His eyes were up there, you had to remind yourself.

"—above and beyond the call of duty, don't you agree, Lucifer?"

"Yes, Diavolo." The lines on Lucifer's forehead said otherwise, but he was in no position to argue with the man who literally owned the entire building they were in. "Though, to conduct a staff evaluation in the middle of the financial year—"

"I saw it on a show once and had to try it! It was a very enlightening experience." He shot you the same wide smile you'd seen countless times over the past few months, one that never failed to send your stomach on a rollercoaster. For entirely different reasons this time, however. "Apologies for the deception, but I called you here to share some of my findings since you were instrumental in assisting my evaluation."

Shit, you couldn't remember anything he'd said before this. "Uh, you're welcome sir?"

"No need to be so formal, haha!" His boisterous laughter drowned out Lucifer's groan. "You'll be happy to hear about the new innovation fund I'm proposing. But before that, regarding that raise you mentioned…"

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

What happens during their(yes their) pregnancy announcement...part 2 of????

Cw: pregnancy, nausea mention

Based off part one and part two of the a series.

A/N: I once again wake up and choose to make crack I must feed the people and by people I mean me(and also you ily) ;3c

-------

Zhongli's announcement went pretty well with Hu Tao. Perhaps it's because she is used to dealing with all sorts of paranormal nonsense that something like this does not phase her. They come to an agreement that until he begins to show and or have any discomfort he would be given light and mostly desk work. She sends him off on his way alongside Childe and you to go see Madam Ping and Xianyun in a discrete tea shop owned by another adeptus that Childe had rented just for the occasion.

The two women are joined by two men you recognize as Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver in their human forms. They look a little uncomfortable, not quite used to being in Liyue's city but they sip their tea and make pleasant talk with the ladies.

As your little trio gets closer they stop their chatter and welcome you all to sit, some give Childe a light glare considering his past actions but they have accepted that their former lord has made his choice in partners and don't do anything more.

They offer to pour you all a cup but Zhongli politely declines to their confusion and he calls over the owner. The owner comes by with a different pot of tea and pours Zhongli a separate cup, the scent of ginger filling the air.

His friends question if he is falling ill when he gives them a grin.

"Not quite. I am just experiencing some nausea due to my pregnancy. Do not worry I will be alright."

The room is quiet before Xianyun and the others all burst into noise bombarding him with question after question, offering him plates of snacks, and scolding him for not telling them sooner. He laughs wholeheartedly as they flounder about and gestures towards you.

"If you must know they're the "father"." Everyone's eyes lock on to you and you wave sheepishly a bit intimidated by the sudden attention. "We discussed this some months back and agreed that I shall carry while the both of them provide and care for me."

"We would have told you all much sooner but there were some difficulties in finding a proper dosage that was safe enough for them so they could be the "father" of our children." Everyone takes the information in and they congratulate you all, even patting Childe's back though a little awkwardly.

"Are you happy, Zhongli?" Madam Ping asks a little sparkle in her old eyes. Zhongli takes in her question and nods with the softest smile and fond eyes. "Yes. I am very happy."

Jing Yuan rolls over, comfortable as can be as he lazies around in bed ignoring the string of text alerts coming from his phone most likely demanding to know where he is as he's two and a half hours late to show up to work. You stall in the doorway with a tray of food as he rubs his belly fondly and find yourself lost in a trance as you watch him.

But the moment is broken when a projection of Fu Xuan enters the picture. Her hands are on her hips as she glares down at Jing Yuan a bit unkempt dressed in nothing but a light sleeping robe. Her eye twitches as he sends a text to someone.

"General just what time do you think it is?" Jing Yuan doesn't even bother looking at her patting his belly once before sitting up to take the tray from your hands. She notices the congee on the plate, glancing up at his face and notices just how pale his face is her attitude shifting from irritation to concern.

"...Are you sick? Do you need Lady Bailu to pay you a visit?" Jing Yuan hums as he takes a spoonful of the congee making sure to get a bit of egg and takes a bite. He practically melts and you sigh relieved that this didn't make him sick compared to the other stuff he's tried to eat this morning.

He shakes his head. "Perhaps later, I visited her earlier this week but no, I am not sick." Fu Xuan's brows pinch in confusion. "You clearly must be, or poisoned even I'll-" He lifts a hand cutting her off as he smiles cheerfully. "I'm not sick, I'm just pregnant. Surely my charts have predicted as such?"

Fu Xuan's projection vanishes and Jing Yuan hums again as he takes another bite. He finishes at least half the bowl by the time her projection flickers back into the room. She looks absolutely frazzled her mouth opening and closing as she tries to speak.

She barely chokes out a "Congratulations!" before disappearing once more not giving you either a chance to thank her. You watch as he finishes his bowl happily not a care in the world.

"Well that went well. I sent a text to Yanqing, he should be here with the tea from-" Yanqing bursts into the room a hand on the door and an arm carrying a case of tea his face flaming red. "GENERAL YOU'RE PREGNANT?!"

"Yes, indeed I am-" Yanqing runs off without another word and you both hear clatter and clanging as he panics navigating the kitchen. He blinks before laughing to himself. "I'm certainly in capable hands aren't I?"

[azaharinflames]

If we don't get something for BuckTommy in the finale than I feel it would be healthier for me to just put down the show.

I don't know if I'll be able to do it but I do think maybe it's better for me to just leave the show to the Buddies. They have their army, their journos are their generals, and they will never stop, never relent, even if the show never gives them what they want.

With all my heart I believe the very best they will ever get is some one-sided confession from Buck at the very last episode of the series. Maybe on his deathbed. But those are wilfully blind will not see.

And the show will probably never shut them down properly. It got close in the last few episodes, and maybe it can still pull the trigger in the finale and send them spiralling off into the void. Here's hoping. But if they don't, then I don't see how this to and fro can continue for me.

I can't watch with their fandom as a bugbear on my back. I want to talk and read about the show but there is literally no space where they aren't being generally awful.

They really are close to breaking down the last of my resistance. I want to stay out of obstinance, because I know that it's exactly their goal to destroy people's hope, but it's just so hard.

Really need Tommy to be in the finale in a real way or else the relationship dropped. I can hold on to hope if there's something tangible to hold on to. I can throw away all hope and just hang around as an unrepentant hater of the show, or leave entirely. But this liminal space where the show can't make up it's mind is torturous.

They either need to give me something or tell me to fuck off so I can actually have an emotional reaction.

Sorry that this ended up being a stream of consciousness.

don’t worry, nonnie, it made sense. and i have to agree and share the sentiment. and i’m happy you can vent here <3

I don’t necessarily share the part of buddie with you. mostly because i refuse to think about them or give them that power, tbh. though i will agree that they are not getting buddie canon, and atp, and especially after last episode, that’s painfully obvious.

so. does it matter if the ‘journos’ are on their side? if bts sometimes posts them? if they’re sent together to do promo (which i will argue it’s not a ‘gift’ to them but them doing promo)? the show is clearly telling them something, as much as we can argue that they still give them small things. if you watch the show it’s rather obvious how they feel about them. therefore leaving to me is not giving them a victory. it’s knowing that it wouldn’t even be a battle to be had, because we exist in two different realms.

that being said. i am waiting on 818 to fully determine what i do with this show.

and to be quite honest, this is not entirely about bucktommy. partly, it is, because i would hate to feel like i’ve been dragged along for this long without a proper reason to - because to bring back tommy after 806 and keep him around for the whole season when there was no reason for it, if they just want him to suddenly disappear is cruel. and it would definitely put me off the show, if anything just because i wouldn’t want my time to be wasted like that.

but it is more than that to me. it would be wasted time, but also it would be watching a show that is hit after hit to my favorite character, with no pay-off or any type of joy. it would be rewarding the behaviors around buck, even, and showing that the way they treated him was right. and i’m simply not okay with that, and i wouldn’t be okay with watching the show if that happened.

ultimately, it would be me being tired of seeing a show that goes nowhere, because that’s how it would feel. and knowing when to stop if it doesn’t bring me joy anymore.

not to say 818 will be bad. i don’t think it will be. but just. in a hypothetical case, i agree.

[alicelillianshaw]

It was all so perfect.

Everything was so fucking perfect, the weight of Jack atop of her, Jack's voice in her ear, his eager hands and mouth and words, stoking the fire in Alice like was dousing straight kerosene into the flame.

'I’m going to. Yeah. I’m going to fuck you right here. Oh, fuck, I need to fuck you.'

Needed to fuck her! Fuck. The tight heat in Alice clenches, and for a moment she wonders if Jack could get her to come just from his voice alone.

That was hot, right? The idea of that was really hot. And it sounds like a fun experiment, except Alice is very, very desperate to feel his dick deep, deep, deep inside her. And it's clear Jack is too.

And that's what makes the interruption all the more crushing. Both of them were burning up, twin infernos going to blaze together, and now this?

Now fucking this!

Alice watches as Jack leverages an elbow underneath him, panting hard, staring at Alice's phone as he tries to process the interruption.

'What is it? Can it wait?'

Alice's lips quirk at that, because. Yeah. Yeah, that's what she was wondering too. It felt as if her abdomen was on fire, and she knew, for obvious reasons, how hard Jack was.

An exhale escapes her.

'Sorry, shit, yeah. Take the call if you need to. Of course.'

It's like the loss of the sun, when Jack shifts off her, moving to sit back down on the couch. Man. He'd felt so perfect atop her, and see how perfect he looked now! Hair mussed. Panting. Aching hard and ready. Alice was so certain he'd been about to show her something fucking insane. About to rearrange her insides and take her to heaven.

Alice feels mortified, at the interruption from her boss, and almost delirious with heat. Fuck— she was aching.

"My boss, he like— called me all these times, and now he's messaging me, he's talking about fucking probation if I don't answer? I don't get what his fuckin' problem is—"

Breathless, and startled, Alice reaches over and squeezes Jack's wrist, eyes hungry and remorseful and pained. There was nothing she wanted to do more than to finally, finally, finally lay down with Jack and let their bodies meld together. She wanted to lose herself into those eyes. Aegean-blue eyes. Summer sky eyes. Eyes like that absolutely singular fluorite stone sitting at her desk.

She can feel his hand at her ankle— perfect and warm.

God, she needs him! Needs to drink in every inch of Jack.

"I'm sorry."

"He never flips out like this, I don't—"

Alice lets out a long noise of frustration, bringing the phone to her ear with whitened knuckles.

"Hi, Ron."

Her tone is clipped.

"Oh! Hello to you, Alice. Been having a pretty fucking hard time getting a hold of you."

And look— Alice typically likes him as a boss. He's usually fair. He's been good, about letting Alice crawl her way up the ladder despite her relative inexperience. But in this moment? In this moment, as she stares at Jack, admired his panting chest, the tented bulge in his jeans, there's nothing she wants to do more than to throw Ronald right into a category 5 tornado and let the wind and debris tear him apart.

A deep breath. Alice stiffens.

"Well. As you can guess, I've been busy with, uh, journalism, which would explain the reason I haven't been able to answer any of your—" a beat, and Alice's release some of the tension in her shoulders "—Three calls, in the last five minutes."

There's an unimpressed noise on the other end.

"First of all: It's not just that. Where are the email updates, Shaw? I have no idea how this is going. Why is it taking so long for you to send me rough drafts?"

"Because it's more abstract! You know my first impressions are always abstract— I don't want to send anything until I've refined it, you know, have a really clear direction for the piece, it took me a minute to establish the tone—"

Ugh. More fucking bullshit. And then Ron asks about Jack, and how he's been, and Alice wants to reach through the phone and throttle him. Don't even ask about Jack! Don't ask about Jack when her mouth was kiss-swollen because of him, when her heart was racing because of him! And he interrupted that! Who cares that Alice hadn't actually written anything for the article!

"— It's been great. He's been great. Been such a wonderful host, been really great, I really can't say enough about how nice he's been... I think he and I connect really well..."

A beat, and Alice's eyes can't help but flash to Jack. Connect. Fuck— that's all they had been doing, hadn't it? Connecting, and connecting, as Alice and her heart fell harder for him.

Deeper. The waterfall. Deeper. The patio dance at dusk. Deeper. The theater and the movie and the tears and the looks and the shared secrets and the need to be happy and him.

Not kissing him right now, not feeling Jack inside her? After everything they'd been sharing with each other? It was painful.

Alice turns to Jack and makes a face of agony, mouth curling into the shape of deep frustration.

"I'm sorry," she mouths.

"I hate him," she mouths again.

All of the perfect little noises that Alice made were driving Jack crazy. He was certain he could get off on the sound alone. No friction or contact needed. It was a crazy thing to think, but already, Jack wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life drawing out those noises from her. Inventing new ones, too. Documenting and filing away the ones he loved the most in some corner of his mind.

Jack listened very intently. Alice mirrored his feelings. She’d wanted him, too. When they danced. Last night. In bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The thought of Alice in bed. What did she sleep in? A big t-shirt? Underwear? Did she wear pajama shorts and a tank top? Did she wear nothing at all?

What was she wearing beneath her clothes right now?

Jack had to find out.

"Yes. Yes. Please do.”

He was going to. He was going to fuck her. After three long days, he was finally going to be inside of her. Alice had said yes. She wanted this. Jack bit his bottom lip when Alice wrapped a leg around him. She looked fucking perfect — lying there like that, with the little red spots flourishing at her neck. Little marks that Jack created. Yeah.

“I’m going to. Yeah. I’m going to fuck you right here. Oh, fuck, I need to fuck you.”

Jack was nodding his head. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep. He captured her mouth one more time, same desperate, hungry kisses. Alice’s phone was still vibrating. Jesus Christ. He wanted to toss that thing into another fucking dimension. Funnily enough, Jack couldn’t remember hearing her phone go off at all during their time together. It had to be right now?

Jack pulled away from her mouth to give her neck some more attention. Specifically, the center of her neck, then down, right above her shirt’s neckline. Meanwhile, he slid his hand in between both of their bodies. He created just enough space so he could unfasten his belt, undo the button on his jeans, slide the zipper down, when —

"….What the fuck?"

No, no, no, no, no, no! Jack was panting, his eyes darting up to Alice’s face. He moved his hand, propping himself up on the couch. He remained on top of her, still half hopeful, despite her expression. He stared at the back of her phone. Fuck you, he thought.

“What is it? Can it wait?”

Aaaaaand Jack sounded like the scummiest guy in the world! He wasn’t that type of guy, no matter how fucking horny he was. No matter how long it’d been. What if it'd been an emergency? Or bad news? Jack felt bad for his initially reaction, so he pulled himself off of her, giving Alice the space to take the call or answer the message if she needed. By the look on her face … well. Jack didn’t feel very hopeful anymore.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. His face was red. His shirt was crinkled. He was still fucking hard. He sat back on the couch, hand on Alice’s ankle. He rubbed at her skin, as if his touch alone would somehow convince her to turn the phone off for good. Please, his eyes said.

“Sorry, shit, yeah. Take the call if you need to. Of course.”