#file under: wants: tyler

[knotfodder]

name: Tyler nicknames: Ty age: 33 gender: Male pronouns: (he/him/his) secondary gender: Omega occupation: tbd species: human(?) fc: Grant Gustin

+flirty, affectionate, expressive+ -mischievous, cocky, needy-

[paintsplash1712]

I kinda wish Sephiroth would appear more randomly in Rebirth. I'm not talking about cutscenes though.

Like what if you just let Cloud be still for too long Sephiroth starts glitching and teleporting near Cloud? Kinda like The Reaper in persona games if you stop moving in the shadow world (Tartarus, Mementos, whatever).

What if in random scenes you can hear Sephiroth's voice whispering in Cloud/the player's ear?

It would also make Cloud look more insane, like is Sephiroth actually there or is Cloud hallucinating?

[pomegranatelifethis]

Whispers in the Void

The summer of your seventeenth year was a relentless crucible, its heat pressing down on New York like a judgment. The city shimmered under a golden haze, alive with the pulse of freedom—children shrieking in sprinklers, music spilling from open windows, the scent of hot asphalt and street vendor pretzels thick in the air. For others, summer was a reprieve, a canvas of possibility. For you, it was a sentence, each day stretching into an eternity of isolation and dread. You were Tony Stark’s daughter, a name that should have draped you in invincibility, but instead, it was a chain, tethering you to a life where you were perpetually unseen.

School was out, but the torment that defined your days didn’t pause for the season. The kids who made your life a nightmare during the academic year—those sharp-eyed vultures who thrived on your pain—found you in the wilds of summer. They roamed the streets near Stark Tower, their laughter a siren call of cruelty. You’d try to slip through the city unnoticed, your worn sneakers silent against the pavement, your head down, clutching a few crumpled dollars you’d earned from odd jobs—organizing files for Pepper, fetching coffee for Tony’s assistants, tasks that made you feel like a ghost in your own home. But they always found you.

“Hey, Stark’s kid!” The shout was a blade, slicing through the humid air. Caleb, the ringleader, was tall and wiry, his smirk a weapon. His posse—Mia, Tyler, and a rotating cast of others—closed in like wolves. They’d circle you, their voices a cacophony of mockery. “What’s it like being a nobody with a famous dad?” Mia would taunt, her eyes glinting with malice. Your money, meant for a slushie or a used book to escape into, was snatched from your fingers. “Thanks for the donation,” Tyler would sneer, pocketing the bills. You learned not to fight back; resistance only sharpened their claws.

Their cruelty wasn’t just theft. It was physical, deliberate, a ritual of breaking you down. Caleb once shoved you into a chain-link fence behind a bodega, the metal biting into your back as he leaned close, his breath sour. “You’re nothing without your daddy’s money,” he hissed, his fist grazing your shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Mia was worse, her cruelty laced with a theatrical flair. One blistering afternoon, she cornered you near a vacant lot, a pocketknife glinting in her hand. The blade danced inches from your cheek, catching the sunlight as she whispered, “Bet no one would even notice if I cut you.” Your heart thundered, your body frozen, until she laughed and snapped the knife shut, sauntering off with her friends’ cackles echoing behind her. Another time, they trapped you in a dumpster, the stench of rotting fruit and damp cardboard choking you as they wedged a crate against the lid. You screamed, your fists pounding metal, until a homeless man, his eyes kind but weary, pried it open hours later. He didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t offer answers. His pity was a weight you carried home.

The city itself seemed complicit. Shopkeepers, distracted by their own hustle, didn’t notice the kids harassing you outside their stores. Neighbors, dazzled by the Stark name, saw only a privileged girl, not the one trembling in their periphery. You’d tried, during the school year, to tell teachers about the torment—the fists, the taunts, the time someone snipped chunks of your hair in the bathroom, leaving you to gather the strands from the tiles. “They’re just jealous,” one teacher had said, her voice dismissive. “You’re Tony Stark’s daughter. They want what you have.” Another had sighed, “Kids will be kids,” and turned back to her lesson plans. Summer stripped away even that flimsy recourse. There were no authority figures to appeal to, no one to witness the slow erosion of your spirit.

Home was no refuge. Stark Tower was a marvel of glass and steel, its panoramic views a testament to your father’s genius. Inside, it buzzed with life—JARVIS’s smooth voice orchestrating the tower’s systems, the Avengers’ laughter spilling from the common areas, Tony’s frenetic energy as he tinkered in his lab. But for you, it was a mausoleum, cold and hollow despite its warmth. Tony Stark was a supernova, his brilliance illuminating the world but casting you in shadow. He was Iron Man, the man who defied gods and monsters, the man who built empires from nothing. To you, he was a stranger who shared your eyes, your stubborn jaw, but none of his attention.

You’d see him in fragments—rushing through the tower, a phone pressed to his ear, or bantering with the Avengers over pizza in the lounge. Natasha’s sharp wit cut through the air, Steve’s quiet strength anchored the group, Thor’s booming laugh shook the walls, and Bruce’s gentle curiosity softened the edges. They were a family, forged in battle and loyalty, but you were an outsider, a specter hovering at the edges of their world. They didn’t know you, not really. Natasha’s keen eyes never caught the tremor in your hands. Steve’s kind smiles never lingered on you. Clint, with his easy humor, never tossed a joke your way. You were Tony’s daughter, a fact they acknowledged with polite nods, but you were invisible, a footnote in their epic saga.

You’d tried to reach your father once, a desperate bid to pierce the veil between you. It was late, the tower quiet except for the hum of his lab. You stood in the doorway, your hands twisting together, your voice barely above a whisper. “Dad, I need to talk.” He glanced up from a holographic display, his eyes bleary but sharp. “Yeah, kid, what’s up?” he said, his fingers still dancing across a tablet. You swallowed, the words clawing at your throat. “It’s… it’s hard. Out there, with people. They—they hurt me, Dad. They take things, they push me around, and I don’t know how to make it stop.” Your voice cracked, tears burning your eyes, but he was already half-gone, his attention drifting back to his work. He flashed a crooked smile, the one that charmed the world. “You’re a Stark, sweetheart. You’re tougher than they are. Just keep your chin up, okay? You’ll figure it out.” He turned back to his hologram, the light casting his face in blue, and you were dismissed. You nodded, though he didn’t see, and slipped away, the ache in your chest blooming like a bruise.

You didn’t try again. Why beg for a light that would never reach you?

The days bled together, each one a fresh wound. You’d wander the city until dusk, avoiding the tower for as long as possible. At night, you’d lie in your room, the city skyline glittering through your window like a cruel promise. The mirror showed a stranger—hollow eyes, cheekbones too sharp, a body curling in suffixes. You felt like a ghost, haunting your own life. Worthless. Nothing. The thoughts were a tide, pulling you under. *You’re a burden. You’re invisible. You’ll never be enough.* You’d trace the bruises on your arms, the faint scars from moments you tried to forget, and wonder why you kept going.

Dreams were your only escape, fragile and fleeting. You’d imagine a world where you were seen, where your voice mattered, where you could be someone—someone who laughed without fear, who walked without looking over her shoulder. You dreamed of being an artist, maybe, your hands stained with paint, creating something beautiful enough to make the world pause. Or a writer, weaving stories that would outlive you. But dreams were dangerous; they made the fall back to reality sharper, the pain more acute. Each taunt, each shove, each indifferent glance chipped away at them, until they were gossamer, too delicate to hold.

The Avengers remained oblivious. You’d pass them in the tower, your head down, your heart a silent scream. Once, you lingered in the lounge, hoping someone might notice you. Natasha was cleaning her knives, her movements precise. Steve was sketching, his brow furrowed. Thor was regaling Clint with a tale of Asgard, his voice a thunderstorm. You sat on the edge of a couch, clutching a book you weren’t reading, waiting for a glance, a word, anything. But the moment passed, and you slipped away, unnoticed. They didn’t know you were drowning. They didn’t know you were fading.

One evening, as summer’s heat clung to the city like a fever, you found yourself far from the tower. The cliff was a jagged scar on the earth, perched over a sea that churned with restless hunger. You’d come here before, drawn by its solitude, its wildness. The sky was a canvas of crimson and violet, the clouds bruised and heavy. The wind howled, tugging at your clothes, whispering secrets you’d never share. You stood at the edge, your toes curling over the precipice, your heart a fragile thing, battered by too many storms.

You thought of your father, his distracted smile, his unseeing eyes. You thought of the Avengers, their laughter a world you’d never touch. You thought of the kids who’d broken you, piece by piece, and the world that had let them. You thought of your dreams—those beautiful, fleeting things you’d guarded in silence, never daring to speak aloud. A life where you were enough. A life where you were seen.

The waves below roared, their rhythm a lullaby of peace, of release. You closed your eyes, the wind weaving through your hair like a final embrace. The world didn’t know you, didn’t need you. Your story, unwritten and untold, folded into the darkness. With a breath, you let go, surrendering to the call of the void, your heart a silent hymn to a life that might have been.

The city spun on, its lights glittering like stars indifferent to your absence. Tony worked in his lab, unaware of the hole in his world. The Avengers fought their battles, their bonds unbroken. The kids who’d tormented you moved on, their cruelty a fleeting game. No one paused, no one mourned. You were gone, a whisper lost in the wind, your dreams buried in the deep, where no one would ever find them. The girl you were—quiet, broken, yearning—faded into the silence, her heart a secret the world would never know.

[croisants]

New Coach (3) - End

Part 1, Part2

Tyler didn’t sleep much.

Not because of nightmares this time—but because of possibility.

Someone else believed him. Someone else saw it. That changed everything.

He replayed every conversation with Vance in his head. Every sidelong glance from Ethan. Every word Shane had said.

He was missing something. But not for long.

---

The next morning, Tyler walked into school already scanning.

He wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was watching.

And that’s when he saw it.

A girl—senior, maybe. He didn’t know her name. She was arguing with Coach Vance outside the admin office. Her voice was hushed, sharp. His was calm, as always. Too calm.

Then she stormed off.

Tyler ducked into a corner by the vending machine and watched as Vance stood there for a moment… then looked around and slipped a key into the side panel of the trophy case.

It clicked open.

He pulled something out. A folder. Slim. Labeled.

CONFIDENTIAL.

Vance glanced around again and walked down the hall.

Tyler didn’t breathe.

A minute later, someone appeared beside him.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

Tyler jumped.

Shane.

Leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there the whole time.

“How long were you—?”

“Long enough,” Shane said. “He shouldn’t be touching those files.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I think,” Shane said, turning to walk, “it’s time we find out.”

---

That night, Tyler came back.

He waited until the janitor locked the east wing and the last car rolled out of the parking lot. Then he slipped in through the cracked window by the art room—just like Shane said he used to do at his last school.

He moved like he’d done this before.

Heart pounding. Backpack slung low. Black hoodie. Gloves.

The hall lights were off, just red emergency bulbs glowing in the corners like watching eyes.

He made it to the trophy case.

His breath caught.

The same keyhole.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bent bobby pin. Not perfect, but it was something. He knelt and started working.

Click.

Turn.

Nothing.

Click.

His palms were sweating now. The hallway stretched out like a tunnel behind him.

Then, behind the glass—a flash of light.

A phone screen.

And a voice:

“Took you long enough.”

Tyler jumped back, heart hammering.

Inside the open trophy case area—Shane sat cross-legged on the floor, flashlight pointed at the file in his lap.

“What the hell?” Tyler hissed.

Shane looked up with that same unbothered smile.

“Figured you’d come. Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

“You already got in?”

Shane held up a thin piece of bent metal. “Lock’s trash. Took thirty seconds.”

Tyler shook his head. “You could’ve told me.”

“I wanted to see if you’d actually do it,” Shane said. “Guess I was right.”

He slid the file across the floor.

Tyler opened it.

Inside—printed emails, redacted reports, and a staff transfer document.

Coach Owen Vance.

No photo.

No signature.

And under “previous employment”?

Redacted.

Tyler looked up.

“This is real,” he whispered.

Shane’s smile widened, just enough to say, "Yes. Keep going. Dig deeper."

And so Tyler did.

---

Tyler flipped through the rest of the file, fingers trembling.

Nothing made sense.

Names blacked out. Pages missing. Lines of text whited out completely.

It wasn’t a folder—it was a trailhead. A mystery waiting to be unraveled.

“Why would they hide this?” he murmured.

Shane stood, sliding the folder back into his bag with the care of someone handling a weapon.

“Because Vance isn’t supposed to be here.”

Tyler looked at him.

“You really believe that?”

Shane met his eyes. Steady. Certain.

“I believe people like him don’t just show up without reason. And if you don’t pull the thread now…” He shrugged. “It’ll strangle you later.”

Tyler didn’t sleep that night.

Not out of fear.

But purpose.

For the first time, it felt like the curtain was lifting.

He didn’t know he was standing on a stage Ethan had built just for him.

---

Tyler was buzzing the next morning.

Not with adrenaline—but with focus.

The folder. The redacted documents. Shane’s certainty.

It wasn’t just paranoia anymore. It was a case.

He’d been hunted. Gaslit. Humiliated.

Now he was hunting back.

---

Ethan sat by himself at the lunch table, like always. Head down, earbuds in, tapping quietly at his laptop.

Tyler walked straight toward him.

Shane had said not to move too fast. Wait. Gather more.

But Tyler needed to see something in Ethan’s eyes. Needed to see him flinch.

He dropped into the seat across from him, hard.

Ethan didn’t look up.

“Nice morning,” Tyler said, voice flat.

Ethan paused his music. “Sure.”

“You know,” Tyler went on, “it’s weird. How someone like Coach Vance shows up out of nowhere. No background. No files. Just power.”

Ethan blinked. “Okay.”

Tyler leaned in. “Know what’s weirder? Seeing your name show up in the same places. Same times.”

Ethan smiled faintly. “That sounds like a conspiracy.”

“I broke into his file.”

That made Ethan finally look up.

His eyes weren’t scared.

They were curious.

Interested.

Amused.

“You really did that?”

“You tell me,” Tyler said. “Since you are him.”

There was a pause.

Then Ethan leaned forward, voice soft.

“You sure you want to do this here?”

And that was the trap.

Because behind Tyler, a voice snapped:

“Mr. Stanton?”

Tyler turned.

Ms. Kellerman.

Tray in her hands. Eyes narrowed.

Ethan sat back and pressed his fingers to his temple.

“Sorry, Ms. Kellerman. I think Tyler’s going through a lot right now. I was just trying to help.”

Tyler stood fast. “He’s lying!”

“Tyler,” she said, stepping forward slowly. “What are you doing?”

“He’s not who you think he is! He’s Coach Vance!”

Ethan flinched perfectly. “Please stop.”

“You think I’m crazy?” Tyler snapped. “Look at him! Look at his face!”

Kellerman grabbed his arm. “That’s enough.”

He looked down.

Everyone was staring.

Phones out.

Laughing.

Recording.

And Ethan—sweet, fragile, harmless Ethan—rubbed his eyes like he might cry.

---

Later, Tyler sat outside the nurse’s office, head in his hands.

He didn’t know how Ethan did it.

The timing. The tears. The perfect expression of victimhood.

But it worked.

Again.

He was losing.

And Ethan hadn’t even touched him.

Then, the nurse gave Tyler a juice box and a counseling referral.

He didn’t take either.

He just sat in the hallway, knees up, staring at the scuffed tile like it might tell him what to do next.

He’d had him.

Right there.

Ethan should’ve cracked.

Instead, he made Tyler look insane.

Again.

---

It was dark by the time Tyler got outside.

The campus was empty. The wind was sharp.

But Shane was waiting—sitting on the low concrete wall outside the gym, hoodie pulled over his head, like he’d never moved.

He didn’t say anything when Tyler approached.

Didn’t ask what happened.

He just said, “You ready to stop playing defense?”

Tyler sank down next to him, silent for a long beat.

Then, “He flipped it on me. Like I was a kid chasing shadows.”

“You’re not,” Shane said. “You’re chasing something real. But you’re doing it out in the open. That’s how you lose.”

Tyler looked over. “Then what do I do?”

Shane pulled something from his bag.

A folded blueprint.

Of the school.

He unfolded it slowly on his knees.

“There’s an old access stair under the south wing. Leads straight into the coaching office. No cameras. No keys needed. Most people don’t even know it’s still unlocked.”

Tyler stared.

“You’ve been planning this?”

Shane smiled. “No. I just know how to find pressure points.”

He tapped the corner of the map.

“We go in. We pull everything. His computer. His drawers. His backup drives. We don’t guess anymore. We know.”

Tyler’s hands curled into fists.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s take him down.”

Shane grinned like a wolf.

“Then we go in Friday night.”

---

That night, Tyler lay awake, staring at his ceiling.

He had the map. The plan. The one person he could trust.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like things were falling into place.

He didn’t know they were falling around him.

One step from the edge.

Exactly where Ethan wanted him.

---

Friday night.

No lights in the school. No cameras rolling in the south wing. Just silence and shadows.

Tyler and Shane slipped through the broken side gate at 10:17 p.m.

No one saw them.

Shane carried the map. Tyler carried a crowbar, just in case.

They didn’t speak much. The plan was tight. Clean. Shane made sure of that.

They reached the south stairwell.

Just like he said—no alarm. The rusted door opened with a groan and a puff of old dust.

They descended into the dark.

---

The office was colder than it should’ve been.

No photos. No plaques. Just a desk, a laptop, and a filing cabinet with a padlock Tyler popped with a single twist.

They moved fast.

Shane dug into the drawers while Tyler scrolled through the laptop.

“What are we even looking for?” Tyler whispered.

“Anything he didn’t want found,” Shane muttered. “Emails. Staff forms. Video files.”

Tyler scrolled deeper—and stopped.

One folder.

Untitled.

He clicked.

Inside were only two files.

One was a photo.

A still shot of Ethan, standing in the school hallway—timestamped.

The second...

A picture of Shane.

Same hallway.

Same timestamp.

Tyler froze.

His throat went dry.

He glanced at Shane—who hadn’t noticed yet, still flipping through folders.

Tyler clicked the metadata.

The files were fake.

Generated.

Planted.

He looked back at Shane.

Shane looked up.

And for a split second—Tyler swore the corner of his mouth twitched.

A smile.

But it was gone before it landed.

“Find something?” Shane asked.

Tyler shook his head slowly.

“No.”

---

When they left, Tyler felt different.

Not angry. Not afraid.

But... off-balance.

Like the ground was shifting beneath him.

Like maybe he didn’t know who was standing next to him anymore.

---

Tyler couldn’t stop hearing it.

That line.

“Not the type to make moves on his own.”

It echoed in his head, over and over, like a whispered refrain he couldn’t shake.

He remembered when Coach Vance had said it—quiet, deliberate, after a late-night drill when the gym was empty and the lights buzzed faintly overhead.

“That kid Ethan? Always hiding at the back of class. Stays quiet. Doesn’t make waves. Not the type to make moves on his own.”

Vance had said it like it was fact.

But now—days later—Shane had said the exact same thing.

Tyler remembered it clearly. He had been ranting about Ethan while he and Shane at the cafe, calling him weak, passive, fake.

And Shane, calm as ever, had replied:

“Not the type to make moves on his own.”

Same words.

Same rhythm.

Same voice?

No. That couldn’t be. Shane’s voice was deeper. Warmer. More relaxed.

But it felt the same.

Too much.

Too close.

---

They were walking the outer loop of the track field after school. Shane was talking about a possible lead—something about hidden footage on a PE server. Tyler wasn’t listening anymore.

He was watching.

Not the words. The rhythm.

The way Shane walked—confident, quiet, with a little swagger at the corners.

The way he paused before delivering certain lines.

It was all so... calculated.

Too polished.

Like someone playing a role.

Tyler slowed down.

“You remember that thing you said about Ethan?” he asked.

Shane looked over, casual. “Which one?”

“That he’s not the type to make moves on his own.”

Shane chuckled. “Still true, isn’t it?”

Tyler forced a nod.

But something turned in his gut.

He remembered Vance’s voice saying those same words. Remembered the gleam in his eyes. The way he’d dropped that line like a match on gasoline.

And now Shane said it too.

Word for word.

---

That night, Tyler pulled out the notes he’d been keeping. Names. Times. Quotes. Moments that didn’t add up.

He highlighted the phrase—both times.

He circled them.

Then he wrote, in all caps:

**WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, REALLY?**

---

The next morning, Shane met him like always. Smiling. Confident.

But Tyler couldn’t stop watching him like a stranger.

And when Shane looked away for just a second—

Tyler whispered under his breath:

“I think I know your face.”

Shane didn’t hear it.

But he would.

Soon.

---

Tyler didn’t sleep.

He didn’t spiral either.

Is Shane really new Ethan? Coach Vance, Now Shane?

He planned.

If Shane really was who Tyler now feared he was… he’d eventually slip. He’d say something he shouldn’t know. React too fast. Fill in a blank that only Ethan could recognize.

All Tyler had to do was feed him the right detail.

So he picked one.

---

In gym class, freshman year, Ethan once faked an injury during a running test. Everyone had laughed. Tyler had laughed hardest. Ethan limped off the court, face red. Two hours later, someone found his name scrawled in Sharpie on the back of the bleachers.

It was a dumb story.

But only Ethan remembered it.

---

That afternoon, Tyler waited until they were alone again—him and Shane, sitting near the outdoor stairs, like usual. Shane was picking apart a protein bar with surgical focus, eyes on the track field.

Tyler played it casual.

“You ever fake an injury to get out of a test?”

Shane looked up, smirked. “What kind of test?”

“Running,” Tyler said. “Mile run. Freshman year.”

Shane gave a breath of a laugh. “God, yeah. Back at my old school, I limped so bad the nurse thought I tore my calf.”

Tyler nodded slowly.

“So no one wrote your name on the bleachers after?”

Shane blinked.

Just for a second.

Then smiled.

“Wish they had.”

Tyler’s heart skipped.

That pause.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

---

Later that night, Tyler replayed the conversation in his head.

The phrasing.

The timing.

The pause.

Shane had hesitated like someone caught between memories—like he’d almost said “I thought you did” instead.

Tyler scribbled a new line across his notebook:

SHANE ISN’T NEW.

And underneath it:

HE’S PLAYING ME.

---

The Camera (Can't) Lies

Tyler spent his Saturday morning alone at school.

He’d told the janitor he left a jacket in his locker. No one questioned him.

He waited until the hallway was clear.

Then he set the camera.

An old camcorder—grainy, bulky, but reliable. Tucked into the air vent above the east academic wing hallway. Perfect angle. It would capture the entry doors with a timestamp.

If Ethan walked in at 7:52, and Shane showed up behind the gym at 7:58—on the opposite side of campus—he’d have them.

Or he’d have him.

---

Monday came like a storm.

Tyler barely blinked through first period.

At 7:51 a.m., he positioned himself near the gym stairs.

At 7:58, Shane arrived.

Hood up, all confidence.

“Ready to break the system again?” he asked, offering a casual grin.

Tyler forced a nod.

Inside, his pulse was thunder.

---

Lunchtime.

Tyler slipped into the janitor’s closet, locked the door, and pulled out the camera.

Fast-forwarded.

7:50… 7:51…

7:52.

There—Ethan.

Clear as day, walking through the east entry doors. Head down. Hoodie up. Backpack over one shoulder. Small frame. Maybe 5'9" at best.

Tyler stared.

Fast-forwarded.

7:58.

There—Shane, appearing behind the gym.

Different entrance. Opposite side of the school. And Tyler had been there the entire time.

Shane was tall. Broad. At least 6'2". There was no mistaking it.

It was impossible.

Unless...

They were the same person.

Tyler blinked hard, scrubbing backward on the footage.

7:52—Ethan. Small. Slouched. Thin.

7:58—Shane. Confident. Strong. Towering.

That wasn’t a disguise. That wasn’t a trick of posture.

That was a transformation.

Ethan and Shane weren’t just the same person.

Ethan had changed his body.

His height. His build. His presence.

Tyler’s blood went cold.

There was only one explanation.

He wasn’t crazy.

He wasn’t paranoid.

Ethan was a shapeshifter.

Tyler laughed.

A small, cracked sound that almost frightened him.

He had him.

He finally had him.

---

Until the knock came.

Slow.

Measured.

Tyler turned.

Coach Vance stood in the doorway, arms folded, eyes like steel.

“You digging for ghosts, Stanton?” he asked quietly.

Tyler swallowed. “I saw him. I saw—”

Vance stepped into the light.

Smiling.

“You’re getting close.”

Tyler froze.

“What?”

Vance leaned down. His voice was soft—softer than it had ever been.

“I let you see it.”

Tyler’s blood ran cold.

“You—”

“I wanted you to know. Just not yet.”

Then he turned, calm as ever, and walked away.

Leaving Tyler with shaking hands, a blinking screen, and one undeniable truth:

He was never the hunter.

He was the game.

---

He can't wait longer.

Tyler stood outside the principal’s office with a USB drive in his palm.

The camcorder footage was on it.

Two files. Two appearances. One impossibility.

He clutched it like it was a sword. A lifeline. The truth.

He had asked for a private meeting. Said it was important. Urgent. About Coach Vance.

Principal Avery had agreed.

Ms. Kellerman would be there too.

Good.

He needed witnesses.

---

Inside the office, they gave him space at the front desk.

“Go ahead, Tyler,” the principal said gently.

Tyler nodded, breath shaking.

He plugged in the drive. Clicked play.

First: Ethan, walking through the east hall entry at 7:52 a.m.

Then: Shane, meeting Tyler at the gym at 7:58.

“See that?” Tyler said, pointing to the timestamps. “He can’t be in two places at once. Ethan and Shane—they’re the same person.”

The adults leaned in. Silent.

“Look at the body types,” Tyler said. “The walk. The way they look at people. It’s all the same.”

Kellerman raised an eyebrow. “But they’re clearly different. One’s tall. The other isn’t.”

“That’s the point,” Tyler said, voice rising. “He changes. He’s a shapeshifter!”

Silence.

Not awe.

Just... discomfort.

Principal Avery folded his hands. “Tyler. This is serious. Are you suggesting your classmate—Ethan—and Coach Vance are... supernatural?”

“I’m showing you proof!”

He turned back to the screen.

But something was wrong.

The Shane footage—it looked… different.

Smoother. Cropped tighter.

The timestamp was gone.

His stomach dropped.

“No—wait—this isn’t the right version—” he stammered, clicking wildly.

“I think that’s enough,” the principal said.

Kellerman frowned. “Tyler, are you manipulating school footage?”

“I didn’t—no—someone changed it!” Tyler spun. “It was him!”

And then—

The door opened.

Coach Vance stepped in.

Calm. Collected. The model of professionalism.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Tyler pointed. “You’re him! You’re Ethan! You’ve been playing us all!”

But no one moved.

No one flinched.

Vance looked to the principal. “Maybe it’s time we discussed next steps for Tyler.”

The adults nodded.

Tyler backed up.

No.

No, no, no.

The footage was gone.

His proof was gone.

And Vance—Ethan—stood there, perfectly untouchable.

---

Minutes later, Tyler stumbled into the main hallway.

His head was spinning.

He wiped his face, still shaking.

Then stopped.

Shane was sitting on the bench just outside the front office.

Waiting.

Hood up. Calm. As if he’d been there all morning.

Tyler froze.

He looked back at the office.

Then quietly stepped to the door.

Peeked in.

Principal Avery. Ms. Kellerman. An empty chair.

Vance was gone.

No exit. No hallway movement. No footsteps.

Just gone.

Tyler turned back.

Shane looked up.

“Didn’t go well?” he asked, casual as ever.

And this time, the smile was different.

Not friendly.

Not sympathetic.

Knowing.

The kind of smile that came from someone who’d already seen the outcome.

Who’d designed it.

Tyler blinked.

His breath caught.

Vance was just in that room.

Shane is here now.

They never passed each other.

Unless…

There was nothing to pass.

Because they were never two people at all.

The posture. The eyes. The stillness in Shane’s shoulders.

It’s Vance.

It’s always been Vance.

It’s always been Ethan.

Tyler turned, shaken.

He didn’t say a word.

Shane just sat there.

Still smiling.

---

Tyler didn’t speak to Shane all week.

He smiled when he had to.

Nodded when it was expected.

All the while, the original SD card burned in his jacket pocket like a secret weapon.

His ace.

His checkmate.

---

Friday. Game night.

The gym buzzed. Packed house. Everyone was there.

Perfect.

He had the footage loaded. Time-stamped. Clean. Unedited. Proof.

The projector was set. AV tech gave him control.

This was it.

---

Tyler took center court just before the game started. Lights dimmed. Spotlight caught him mid-step.

He make sure Coach Vance.. or Ethan, or who the fuck is he, still sit on the bench.

“Before we play,” he said into the mic, “there’s something I need to show you.”

Confused murmurs. Curious faces.

He hit play.

7:52 — Ethan entering the east hallway.

7:58 — Shane behind the gym.

Two places. Six minutes. One impossibility.

Gasps. Confusion.

“This,” Tyler said, “is proof. Shane, Ethan, and Coach Vance—are the same person.”

He turned toward the bench.

But Coach Vance was gone. His clipboard left on the chair. Whistle still hanging from the hook.

Tyler blinked.

Then from the bleachers—

Shane stood.

Arms folded. Calm. Watching.

Tyler pointed. “That’s him! He was just on the court!”

People looked between the court and the bleachers.

Vance wasn’t there. Now Shane was.

Then the lights flickered. Just a moment. Tyler lost sight.

And when they returned— Shane was gone.

Tyler spun.

Ethan sat near the top row with his favorite gray sweater. Small. Nervous. Watching the screen like everyone else.

Tyler’s breath caught.

He looked between them. Looked for cameras. For witnesses.

Everyone was murmuring now.

“He was just there—” “Wasn’t that Coach Vance?” “Wait, is he saying the coach is that kid?”

Tyler pointed again.

“He’s all of them! You’re not seeing it!”

But they were. Exactly what Ethan wanted them to see.

One face. Then another. Then another.

Never together. Never overlapping.

Enough distance to make Tyler look insane.

The screen changed. Footage of Tyler sneaking into AV. Digging through lockers. Talking to himself in the hallway.

“Wait—no—this isn’t—”

“Tyler,” Ms. Kellerman called. “I think that’s enough.”

Security moved.

The crowd watched. Phones recorded.

Tyler’s voice cracked.

“You’re all the same person…”

But to them?

He looked broken. Unstable.

Because Ethan had pulled off the perfect finale.

Three masks. One actor. Zero witnesses.

They led Tyler out slowly. Eyes followed. Mouths whispered.

And Ethan—whichever face he wore now—watched it all.

Still here. Still safe. Still in control.

---

Epilogue: The Stage is Set

Life at school went on.

The final game day passed. Tyler Stanton didn’t show.

Some said he transferred. Others said he was institutionalized. A few whispered he cracked under pressure.

But no one really knew.

And eventually, no one really cared.

Coach Vance still ran practices like a general.

Shane still hung by the gym doors, charming anyone who walked by.

And Ethan?

Still sat in the second row of chemistry with his favorite gray sweater, quiet as ever.

No one questioned it.

Why would they?

They were all different.

They had to be.

---

What really happened?

At late night, after that final game, Tyler sat alone in the nurse’s office. Waiting to be picked up. A stomach ache, they said. Maybe a panic attack.

He stared at the floor. Not crying. Not moving.

Then the door opened.

Coach Vance stepped in.

No clipboard. No whistle. Just him.

He closed the door behind him. Locked it.

Tyler didn’t look up.

“Go away.”

Vance didn’t move.

“You were right,” he said quietly.

Tyler lifted his head.

Vance stood and cross his arms. Calm. Steady. Watching him.

“I wanted you to know,” he added. “That you weren’t crazy.”

Tyler swallowed hard. “Then why—why make me look like I was?”

Vance tilted his head.

“Because no one believes a story when it’s told too late.”

And then—

He changed.

Right in front of Tyler.

His posture shifted. His jaw reshaped. His eyes sharpened. His hair darkened. Shoulders narrowed.

Shane stood where Vance had been.

Then—blink—and he was Ethan.

Then back to Vance.

Each switch seamless. Effortless.

Tyler trembled.

“Why… why are you showing me this now?”

Coach Vance smiled.

“Because it’s more fun when someone knows the game… and still loses.”

He turned and walked to the door. Unlocked it.

Before stepping out, he glanced back one last time.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

And then he was gone.

---

Coach Owen Vance, Shane, and Ethan still attend their occupation at school.

Because he didn’t need to disappear.

Not when the truth was unbelievable.

He was still here.

All of him.

And no one would ever know.

Or maybe, he is around us...

---

End.

[starryluminary]

♪ Jane Doe - Alicia Keys

The EX Files finally!! The episode where Cody and Noah face the consequences of their actions (the consequences they frankly don't deserve)

I hope this is coherent. I had to add and change some things last second to tie it together and I reeeeally hope I managed to have it read well

Notes about this episode under the cut! (There’s extra detail I couldn’t fit in the doodles and needed context for future episodes, so skimming them is recommended!)

* (It’d be funny if Noah had a black eye this episode from Sierra’s backhand.)

* It starts off with Sierra crying and Courtney and Heather making Cody comfort her, which he does reluctantly.

* Cody's not entirely sure what to say to try and calm her down, but she retorts with “Whatever… it’s not like you're in love with him.”

* Sierra looks back at him… and he’s frozen. He doesn’t know how to respond.

* Sierra can take a guess, though. “…No you aren't.” She harshly grabs him by the arms and yells at him, desperately, “NO YOU AREN'T!!”

* Heather grabs Sierra and Courtney grabs Cody to separate them. Cody promptly runs away and Sierra promptly gets yelled at by Heather (not because she cares, but because Cody being injured would make him a liability.)

* On Team Chris’s side, Alejandro, Owen, Duncan and Tyler are huddled discussing the incident. Owen tries his best to be on Noah's side, defending him, but Alejandro twists the story to paint Noah as the one in the wrong. Owen doesn’t want to admit he’s making sense. Duncan is completely against Noah, backing up Alejandro. Tyler however doesn’t participate until Noah gets fed up of the not-so whispering and storms out of first class.

* Cast regroups for the challenge rules and Noah joins Cody's side, quipping something I can’t remember. Cody quips back. Sierra pushes Noah to the ground in response, pretending to be in on the joke.

* The “Courtney throwing challenges” bit is replaced by Tyler watching/paying extremely close attention to Noah to determine if Noah’s situation is sympathetic or immoral. Noah gets more mad the longer the episode goes on cause Tyler isn’t exactly subtle.

* Cody finds the cloning pod and makes Alien Cody like in canon. [I’m making him a bit more curious and a bit less initially threatening, like he has Cody’s thoughts and opinions and feelings.] Alien Cody approaches the real Cody slowly, and Sierra finds them. She’s shocked at first: “Two Codys?” Then she starts wondering, and asks the Alien Cody a question. “Do… you love me?” Alien Cody sticks its tongue out at her and scurries away.

* Once Sierra and Cody are alone together, Sierra tells him she’ll forgive him. Cody is confused. Sierra explains. “Obviously Noah got into your soft, easily manipulated mind, and that was wrong of him!” She grabs Cody’s face. “But don’t worry.” She leans in and puckers her lips. Cody looks at her horrified. “I can fix it.”

* Before Noah and Cody find each other, Noah finds Alien Cody. He thinks it’s the real one at first, approaching it casually. He then notices the messy hair, green tinted skin and the eyes (which I’m making entirely black cause these are pencil drawings with no color) and becomes more cautious towards it. “You’re not Cody. What… are you?” ET finger touch.

* Duncan sees this from afar and yells at Noah: “Are you *seriously* messing with Cody right now?!” Noah tries to respond: “I’m not! This isn’t-“ Alien Cody interrupts him with a growl directed at Duncan. He charges towards him with malicious intent and Duncan punches him, making him explode into goop. Noah does not falter. “Way to kill our winning ticket, idiot.” Duncan does not hesitate. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you.”

~ *[Events of the comic]* ~

* Team Amazon makes it back to Chris with an artifact first and win the challenge. Cody looks back at Noah (whose team was only slightly behind his own) sympathetically. Noah looks back with understanding. I want to say Sierra’s slightly too loud and exited about NOT the Amazons winning, but of team Chris losing. Tyler (who’s paying way too much attention now) notices and comes to a conclusion.

* Owen gets voted off this episode for being dead weight, and he and Noah hug before he jumps. Owen tells Noah to “win for him” and Noah replies that he makes no promises… but he’ll try.

Sorry that’s. Like a lot. The story kinda got away from me

[k-nayee]

Morning After Alien Romulus ii

wc: 3.9k a/n: Song Inspiration: Morning After by DVSN; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The quiet hum of the ventilation system was the only sound in the room as you awakened.

Your bare skin prickled slightly as the cool air traced along your spine. The sheets were slightly tangled around your legs, a faint reminder of the way Tyler had held onto you as if afraid you’d slip away.

For a moment you stayed there, caught between the comfort of the present and the weight of the future pressing on your chest.

You took in the sight of Tyler sleeping beside you—his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, lips slightly parted, breaths even and untroubled as his arm draped loosely over your waist,

You felt an undeniable tug in your chest.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

You reached out without thinking; brushing your fingers gently through his hair, smoothing back a few strands that had fallen over his forehead. He barely stirred with a soft exhale.

You wanted nothing more than to stay, to sink back under the covers and pretend, even for a little while longer, that the outside world didn’t exist. That Jackson’s Star wasn’t a crumbling graveyard in the making.

But reality was impatient and duty whispered in the back of your mind.

Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to his forehead, lingering just enough to let the moment settle. "Soon," you murmured against his skin, the promise hanging between you. "We’ll get there soon."

Though you weren’t sure who it was really meant for. Him or yourself?

With careful movements you slip out from under the sheets, mindful not to wake him. The floor was cool beneath your feet as you padded across the room, a wince pulling at your face as you bend down to dress quickly—the soreness a not-so-subtle reminder of last night.

You had picked something simple. Practical. Didn’t want to give anyone a reason to notice you more than necessary today.

The facility was quieter than usual when you arrived. Most workers hadn’t clocked in yet, leaving only a few scattered employees moving through the lit corridors, lost in their own routines.

Good. Fewer eyes meant fewer questions.

Settling at your workstation, you booted up the terminal, fingers moving automatically over the keyboard. Years of navigating these systems had made you efficient—too efficient.

You knew the system inside and out; knew its weak spots, its loopholes. Every firewall, every security gap, every blind spot left unattended that management either didn’t care to fix or simply hadn’t noticed.

Maybe it was arrogance. Maybe it was neglect. Either way it worked in your favor.

Hacking in was second nature by now. Your eyes scanned the lines of code flashing across the screen as you navigated through, slipping past security protocols with the kind of precision that only came from experience.

A click here, a minor override there—nothing too aggressive, nothing that would trip an alarm. Just a careful dance between what was allowed and what wasn’t.

Then you saw it.

QUOTA MET: TRANSFER ELIGIBLE

The confirmation glowed in green across your account file, staring back at you like a silent invitation.

You had met your quota weeks ago. The option had been sitting there waiting. You hadn’t acted. Not until now.

Not until Tyler.

Your heartbeat picked up, thudding against your ribs as you pulled up your brother’s data. His file flickered onto the screen—his name, his hours, his status, all laid out in sterile formatting.

For a brief second doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. What if this didn’t work? What if someone noticed? What if—

No. You couldn't think like that. Taking a deep breath, you began typing.

It wasn’t just a matter of inputting numbers. The system wouldn’t allow a direct transfer under normal circumstances. There were fail-safes in place, redundancies meant to prevent exactly this kind of manipulation.

Luckily you knew the cracks in the armor.

Instead of a direct transfer you rerouted the hours through a dormant worker ID—a name that no longer had a body attached to it, a ghost in the system. From there the hours flowed cleanly into your brother’s account, looking like nothing more than a clerical correction.

The moment you hit Enter your status blinked red.

QUOTA UNMET: TRANSFER UNELIGIBLE

And then—your brother’s turned green.

QUOTA MET: TRANSFER ELIGIBLE

A sharp breath hitched in your throat, your hands were still trembling slightly as they hovered over the keys. 'It's done.'

The thought echoed in your head but it didn’t bring you the relief you expected. Instead your stomach twisted with unease.

With a shaky exhale you forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t afford to sit here in shock. You quickly began to erase every trace of your interference.

You became hyper-aware of the faint hum of machinery and the distant murmur of workers beginning to filter into the station as your fingers moved automatically.

Delete logs, clear access history, reroute tracking pings.

Every file you touched, every lingering breadcrumb that could be traced back to you, wiped clean. It was meticulous work but you had no room for error.

A few more keystrokes... A final scan... Gone.

With a final click you shut off your terminal. You sat there for a moment, staring at the dark reflection of your own face on the screen’s surface.

It was done. No going back.

Your lungs deflated as you leaned back in the chair, shoulders slumping as the tension coiled in your muscles finally unwound—just a fraction.

Because this was only the first step.

Pushing away from your desk, you forced your legs to move through the near-empty halls. The artificial lighting above flickered slightly, casting sharp shadows along the walls, but you barely noticed.

You needed to look the part.

Reaching the nearest restroom, you slipped inside and locked the door behind you. The mirror reflected back a face that didn’t look nearly as weary as you felt.

That wouldn’t do.

Digging into your bag, you pulled out your small kit of waterproof makeup, your hands steady as you selected the palest shade you had. You apply it strategically to make your skin appear almost ghostly: dabbing it under your cheekbones, around your eyes—anywhere that would make you look sickly.

Then came the red liner, a precise application around the rims of your eyes to mimic irritation and exhaustion. You blinked a few times to let the moisture build naturally.

The effect was haunting—you looked drained, on the verge of collapse.

Perfect.

Satisfied, you straightened, adjusted your shirt to appear slightly rumpled, and took one last breath before leaving the restroom.

Now came the hard part.

The walk to Mary-Anne's office felt much longer than usual. Your hands felt clammy, your breathing slightly uneven, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This has to work.

Reaching her door, you raised a trembling hand and knocked softly.

A rustle of papers. A chair shifting. Then—

"Come in."

You pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She was at her desk (as usual), glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she worked through a thick stack of paperwork. The soft glow of her monitor illuminated the wrinkles in her forehead as she worked, but as soon as she saw you she paused.

Her face brightened upon seeing you, her lips parting in the start of a warm greeting—until she saw you up close. The warmth drained from her expression and was replaced by deep immediate concern.

"____...sweetheart, I—" Mary-Anne's brows knit together as she stood up slightly, leaning forward. "What’s wrong? What happened?"

You lowered yourself into the chair across from her, your hands clenching together in your lap, curling into yourself just a little as you gave a shaky sigh.

“I—I listened to you,” you murmured. “I went to the infirmary. I...I just thought maybe I was run down, you know?" A weak humorless laugh escaped you before you inhaled sharply as if bracing yourself. "But after some tests, they—" Your voice caught.

Mary-Anne was already on the edge of her seat. "Tests?" she echoed. Her own hands pressed against the desk, her knuckles white.

You lifted your gaze to hers, your eyes wet, the red lining enhancing the illusion of someone who had cried too much already. "They found something growing in my brain. They don't know what...but the tumor's developing fast."

Mary-Anne's face went slack. For a moment she just stared, uncomprehending—like her mind refused to process what you had just said. Then the color drained from her face.

"Oh honey…" Her voice broke, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "No...no that can’t—"

You let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as if you were trying to keep yourself together. It wasn’t hard—because underneath the act real emotions swirled, tangled with the lie.

You could feel the weight of it pressing on your concious.

She reached forward, grasping your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly as if that alone could will reality into something kinder.

You let your head dip slightly, eyes burning as you let out a trembling breath. "I—I don’t have much time."

Her grip on your hand tightened. "No no don’t say that. There—there has to be something they can do. Treatments—"

You shook your head. "It’s too late for that."

The first tear slipped down her cheek and it nearly shattered you.

She saw you like family. A daughter, a niece—someone she had taken under her wing long ago. And now? Now she was losing you.

You hesitated before speaking again, letting the tension stretch just enough. Then you carefully squeezed her hand. "I...I need you to do something for me."

She sniffed, blinking rapidly. "Anything."

You took a breath. "I need you to approve my brother’s transfer to Yvaga III."

Her brows knit together, confusion flickering across her grief-stricken face. "...What?"

"I gave him all my hours," you admitted lowly. "He has everything he needs to leave. But if anyone checks the records, they’ll see the numbers don’t add up and they’ll start asking questions."

Silence.

Mary-Anne's entire body tensed as her hands pulled away. "You—what?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost like she was afraid of the walls listening in. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! If they find out—"

You cut her off with a hollow laugh. "I’m already a dead woman."

That stopped her cold.

The room fell silent except for the faint hum of machinery beyond the walls. Her lips parted but no words came out. She just stared at you, at the emptiness behind your eyes, at the acceptance.

The truth (at least the truth you had crafted) settled between you both like a lead weight..

“There’s always one final screening before transfer off Jackson Star.” You spoke again, voice softer now, raw with the emotion you needed her to see. “If you approve it no one will think to look deeper. No one will question it."

Tears spilled freely from your eyes now, your breath coming out uneven. "I...I can’t leave him alone. I'm all he has. After the death of our parent's I can’t—" Your breath hitched and the dam broke.

Your body shook as sobs wracked your frame. The grief, the fear, the desperation—it all poured out in a way that felt real. Maybe because some of it was.

Maybe because you knew, deep down, you weren’t just crying for your brother. You were crying for everything.

For the life you never got to have... For the choices forced upon you.... For the lies you had to tell to ensure the only family you had left would be safe....

Through your blurred vision you saw her; you saw the war waging in her expression, the way her hands curled into fists, the way she fought against the rules, against logic, against everything she was supposed to do.

Then, with a heavy shaky sigh, she shook her head. "You…" She let out a choked sound, somewhere between frustration and heartbreak. "You absolute fool."

And then she nodded. "Okay."

Your breath caught.

She sniffled, wiping her face. "I’ll do it. I’ll make it official."

A broken sob tore through you as you surged forward, wrapping your arms around her. She let out a strangled sound of her own before hugging you back tightly, squeezing you like she was trying to hold you together.

You had done it.

Your brother was safe.

And nothing else mattered.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

You sat in the dimly lit living lounge, your knee bouncing uncontrollably as nerves twisted like a knot in your stomach. The faint hum of the ventilation system filled the silence but it did nothing to settle the unease gripping your chest.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual—or maybe it was just your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

Your fingers tangled together in your lap, gripping tighter than they needed to as every so often you'd glanced toward the front door.

'He should be home soon...'

You had gone over this conversation in your head over and over. What you would say...how you would say it.

But now? Now you weren’t even sure how to start.

Then—

The front door slides open with a soft hiss, the faint shuffling of boots against the metal floor signaling his return. Anticipation and dread coiled inside you as you shot up instantly like a tightly wound spring.

Your brother stepped inside, his uniform slightly wrinkled from another long shift. A tired but genuine smile formed on his lips as he shrugged off his jacket. "Hey! You won't believe the kind of day I had—"

The easy smile falters the second he sees your face. "What’s wrong?" The usual warmth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a cautious edge.

You hadn’t realized how serious you must have seemed—hands clenched, eyes trained on him like you were bracing for impact.

You didn’t answer.

Instead you closed the distance between you in a few quick strides and pulled him into a hug.

His body tensed at first, caught off guard by the abruptness of it, his arms hovering uncertainly before finally settling around you. He was taller than you now, but the way you clutched him and forced his head down to rest against your shoulder said otherwise.

"Okay...?" His voice was muffled as he let out a confused chuckle. "Now I know something’s up."

He shifted slightly, trying to pull back, but you only tightened your hold for a moment longer, now cradling his head under your chin.

His breath hitched. "Hey...what’s going on?" His voice was softer now. More careful.

You could feel his unease, the way he hunched slightly, letting you hold onto him like you used to when you were both younger—when the world had been scarier and he had needed you to shield him from it.

Taking one last shaky breath, you finally pull back. His hands lingered on your arms as you reached up to gently cup his face between your palms.

His skin was warm beneath your touch, [eye color] eyes searching yours for answers as his brow scrunched deeper. "Seriously. What’s going on?"

You met his gaze. "You’re leaving, [Brother's Name]."

He blinks. “What?”

"You’re getting out of here." Your voice became firmer. “You’re leaving Jackson Star.”

His expression remained frozen for a second, like his brain was still catching up to the words you had just said. Then his eyes slowly widened.

A beat of silence.

"...What?" His voice was barely a whisper this time.

You didn’t waver. You repeated yourself as you give a steady and reassuring nod. "You’re going to Yvaga."

For a moment his lips parted but no sound came out. He just stood there blinking at you, the reality of your words sinking in.

Then—a grin.

It started small, creeping onto his face. Then it grew bright and full of disbelief.

"Wait. Wait are you serious?" His voice pitched higher, excitement bleeding into every syllable. "You’re not messing with me? This isn’t some kind of cruel prank right?"

You didn’t need to answer. The look in your eyes was enough.

"Holy shit—are you serious?! No wait—" He spun around, running a hand through his hair as a sudden burst of energy rushed through him. "I— I’m actually leaving?! I can finally—?!"

He turned back to you as he started rambling, his words coming out in breathless waves.

"I’ll actually get to see the sun?! And real trees?! And—actual grass?! Like real growing grass? And the air—God bet the air doesn’t even smell like metal and recycled filth over there—"

But then he stopped.

His words cut off mid-sentence as he looked back at you. And just like that, the boyish wonder vanished, replaced by something raw as the light in his eyes dimmed.

“Wha....what about you?”

You had been waiting for this. You forced a reassuring smile, shaking your head as if his worry was misplaced. "I’ll be there too."

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes searched yours as if trying to find the lie beneath your words. When he found nothing to doubt, his shoulders eased. "Okay...yeah. Good that's good."

Relief softened his features, and just like that the light returned. He grinned again, bubbling back up as he started pacing, hands gesturing as he talked.

"God I don’t even know where to start! Do I need to pack everything? What should I bring? What’s the first thing I should do when I get there? Do you think they have real food? Like not this rehydrated crap?"

His energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he spin in circles like a kid on their birthday. “Relax. The transport doesn’t leave for another week. You have time."

"Yeah but still—!" He waved his arms, his mind clearly filled with preparations. "I gotta be ready!"

Still grinning, you reached out and ruffled his hair, messing it up just to hear him groan in protest. He batted your hand away with a playful scowl.

You hesitated for half a second before adding, "You’re gonna be staying with Mary-Anne for the time being."

His excitement dimmed again, his lips pressed together. "...Why do I have to stay with her? Aren't we just going together?"

There it was—that little sliver of doubt creeping back in.

"Because I need to handle some things here first. But I’ll be there right after." you said, pinching his cheek exaggeratedly in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Besides, you like her. She makes those weird cookies you love."

The teen scrunched his nose but didn’t argue. He still looked uncertain.

"You promise?"

You smiled, lifting your hand and holding out your pinky; a silent vow.

He stared at it for a moment before huffing, a grin tugging at his lips as he looped his pinky around yours. "You better not make me wait too long," he muttered.

"Do I ever?"

"Yes. Constantly."

You laughed, bumping your forehead against his before pulling back.

For now the moment was safe. For now he was happy. And for now that was enough.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

The low hum of Corbelan IV ’s engines vibrated through the metal walls, a subtle but constant reminder that they were really leaving. The air inside the ship was thick with tension—excitement, unease, the weight of the unknown.

Navarro was already in the cockpit; flipping switches, checking dials, her voice crisp and efficient as she called out checkpoints.

In the main cabin Rain and Andy moved around, taking in the ship’s interior with quiet awe while others moved frantically, checking cargo, double-checking straps, ensuring everything was in place.

And then there was Tyler.

He sat in the co-pilot’s seat barely registering the checklist Navarro was rattling off. The faint hum of the ship, the occasional flicker of a dashboard light....it all blurred into the background.

His fingers tapped restlessly against his knee, shoulders slightly slumped as his entire body carried the kind of tension that only came with waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.

He should be happy. They were finally leaving this cursed place. They were finally free.

But you weren’t here.

"You alright mate?"

Tyler blinked, turning to see Bjorn staring at him from where he stood near the console. The scavenger's arms were crossed, his expression unreadable but sharp with observation.

Tyler forced a grin with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yeah. Yeah—I will be."

Bjorn made a noise in the back of his throat, half scoff, half knowing grunt. He smacked his lips and muttered, “Women. Can’t live with ‘em...can’t live without ‘em.”

Tyler let out a breathy laugh, though it held no real humor. But before he could respond—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A loud pounding rattled against the metal door causing everyone to jump.

"Shit!" Bjorn hissed, his entire body going rigid.

Kay sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as hands instinctively move to her stomach. "Think we got caught?" she whispered as panic crept into her voice.

Navarro whipped around in her seat. "No fucking way, I cleared us. There’s no—"

Tyler’s pulse spiked as he turned toward the console. With a quick press of a button, the external camera feed flickered onto the screen.

And then—

All the tension in his body evaporated.

A slow disbelieving smile stretched across his face.

He shot up from his seat, barely giving the others a second glance before bolting for the door. His heart was hammering, his throat tight as he slammed his hand against the release button.

The door hissed open.

And there you were. Standing just beyond the threshold, a bag slung over your shoulder with a warm smile tinged with nervous energy. "Got room for one more?"

For a split second Tyler just stared.

His breath stuttered, eyes scanning over you as if he needed to make sure you were real—that you weren’t some cruel hallucination conjured by wishful thinking.

In an instant his arms were around you.

You barely had time to react before you were engulfed in his warmth, your feet nearly lifting off the ground as he held you tight against his chest. His breathing was uneven, almost ragged, like he was forcing himself to believe this was happening.

"You here," he muttered against your shoulder.

You let out a soft laugh, muffling the way your throat tightened. "Didn’t actually think I’d let you have all the fun did you?"

Tyler pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still gripping your arms like he was scared you’d disappear if he let go.

His eyes searched yours.

You could tell—he wanted to say something else. Something bigger. But instead he just huffed a breath and shook his head. "Get inside idiot."

Grinning, you stepped past him, dropping your bag onto the floor as you took your first steps onto the ship.

The others were staring.

Bjorn let out a low whistle. "Well look at that. Drama’s over folks. Guess we can all breathe now."

Kay let out a choked laugh, one hand clutching her chest as if trying to slow her racing heart. "Almost gave me a damn heart attack that's for sure"

You just shot her a wink.

Navarro’s voice came through the intercom, cutting through the moment. "Last call. We’re clear for launch in two minutes. Strap in or get left behind."

This was it.

Tyler exhaled, running a hand through his hair before glancing back at you, a different kind of smile on his face now. "Come on," he said, nodding toward the seats. "Let’s get the hell out of here."

You grinned.

"Gladly.

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This story will contain fluff, suggestion, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else yet!

Note: I was planning on keeping this just for myself so please be nice. I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - ‘You’re Mine’

You climbed into the back of the blacked out car outside the entrance of the bar. Trent helped you in, holding ardently onto your hand pulling you onto his lap. You two were not going to let go of the other tonight. You cuddled into him ignoring anyone else remotely close by.

“You my girl, beautiful?” Trent whispered a question he already knew the answer into your ear.

“Yeah” you replied, your lips pressed against his ear breathing heavily.

“Gonna be a good girl when we get back?” He said even quieter now gripping your thigh digging his fingers into his skin.

“T” you moaned a little as silent as you could.

“Hmm?” He pressed his hand coming dangerously close to your core.

“Ye-Yeah” you managed to quiver out as the car pulled up to the hotel. All the boys filed out of the cars. Marcel stood waiting for Trent.

“Yo, you want to go to the bar in the lobby? I’m thinking I’m going to keep drinking through the flight tomorrow.” He asked Trent with the hopes of having another stupid night of fun with his older brother.

“That’s a terrible idea” you chimed in with a big smile, stepping out of the car sliding your hands around Trent’s waist guiding them up and down his abs placing your head against him. Trent completely ignored Marcel's question at first, smiling and leaning his body back into yours.

“We need to get upstairs now baby.” He said pinching at your skin. “Sorry Marc” he said, a little cold, his eyes not leaving yours. You couldn’t really suppress the greedy smile coming across your face when you wanted to get to the room too. The harsh interaction with Marcel went completely over your head. You just nodded at Trent before he pulled you under his arm nuzzling his face into your neck kissing and nibbling at your skin as your hands pulled at his top. Your eagerness caused his shirt to raise exposing his back a little, your nails clawing at his skin. The whole exchange was incredibly heated and the sexual tension was palpable. Trent’s friends were amused by the undeniable chemistry as you practically tore each other's clothes off before you could even get to the lifts.

“I’d watch the tape,” one friend said, a bit too honestly.

“Okayy…and with that, my night is over” Tyler’s face broke into a more unimpressed look before he started walking.

“Yeah, had enough of this.” Marcel followed equally unamused.

You and Trent hardly could get through your door before Trent’s hands were pulling your clothes off of you.

“Take this off f’me baby” he cooed with aggression, your shirt coming over your head. Your hands reaching to take his off just as quick.

“T, I need you.” You said in complete desperation.

“Me too, baby. Fuck... you’re so sexy.” He could barely get the words out as your hand reached into his pants palming at him. You started to make your way down towards his unbelievably hard cock but he stopped you. Quickly discarding the rest of his clothes before he moved to the bed, laying back.

“C’mere, beautiful. I wanna fuck that pretty pussy” He motioned for you as he sternly commanded. You liked this side of Trent, you liked when he was in control. You pulled off the rest of your clothes off completely at his mercy preparing for a night that seemed to be heading in a filthy direction.

“You can do whatever you want T, I’m yours.” Hearing you say you were his had ignited a fire behind Trent’s eyes. His already hardened cock pressing against your now slippery folds.

“You’re so wet already, baby.” He could barely contain his eagerness.

You instinctively rolled your hips forward. You and Trent both moaned at the contact and the satisfaction of being close again after the tension had been building back up since your escapade in the bar’s maintenance closet. Your pussy was soaked. You slid your exposed clit up his length easily. You both had little patience or restraint right now so you lifted your hips, taking his now slick cock in your hand, aligning him directly under your dripping pussy.

“Fuck baby.” You whimpered as Trent slowly guided you down till you took his whole length. You were so tight from the minimal foreplay his size hurt in the most pleasurable way. You could feel him all the way in your stomach.

“That’s it, baby” Trent cooed as his hands grazed your skin moving towards your exposed tits. “You’re such a good girl f’me.” The stretch of his cock and his words had your legs shaking. He dipped his fingers to find your clit quickly rubbing tight circles against it. The sensation was so overwhelming. You couldn’t keep it together. Your brain going fuzzy from the feeling of riding him. If it didn’t feel so good you’d be embarrassed how quickly the knot in your stomach formed and how even quicker it was about to snap.

“Are you gonna cum f’me baby?” He questioned as your eyes had begun to tear, your thighs quivering, your breath shortening.

In your orgasmic haze, Trent rolled you two over, his body now hovering over yours. He looked down at you with so much love in his eyes it almost covered the lust. You looked so pretty underneath him, his cock still buried deep inside of you. He pulled your legs on top of his shoulders. He needed to reach deeper. He was completely consumed by the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. He smiled a little while you took all of his cock as he thrusted in and out of you, your mouth parted. He couldn’t wait to fill you up with his cum.

“T, fuck… please, oh my god” you moaned as he hit a spot you didn’t even know you could. Driven mad by your sounds Trent sped up his thrusts, his hand coming to find your clit again. You were moaning senselessly around his cock. A ring of white at the bottom of his shaft. Like he had confided in you your first night together, you were sure that this would now be the best sex either of you have had. Nothing could ever come close to the euphoria of this moment.

“Fuck... take it f’me yeah? So tight, your pussys so tight for me. Doing so well baby.” He could barely breathe between his words as his speed increased. Your back arched as you let out a loud cry when Trent’s cock perfectly hit your g spot. He hammered into you until your vision blurred your nails clawing at his back leaving marks that would last.

“Shit..shit.. T, fuck, you’re so fucking good” you were a moaning mess. Trent smirked at your state underneath him your eyes watering. Your whines now matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your lips stuck parted as he fucked you into another orgasm.

“Tell me you’ll miss me, tell me you’ll miss my cock, beautiful” Trent groaned with aggression. And you felt the knot in your stomach coming completely undone your juices leaking, squirting and suddenly tears flooding, running down your cheeks.

“T” you cried, the sex felt so good but these tears weren’t from pleasure… this was sadness. Trent could see the swift change of emotions. His rapid place slowed, halting completely.

“Baby, baby please no, no, no, please I’m so sorry” he cooed. His sweaty forehead resting on yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little.

“Oh beautiful girl, please.” He tried to kiss you but you spoke first.

“Please don’t leave me, T, I need you.” You barely made a sound but he heard your words.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I promise you. Just going home quick then you’ll be back in my arms. Okay?” Trent said in an effort to calm you down. He tried to pull out of you.

“No, please keep going. I need this, I need you.” You said tears slowing but still coming. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently

“Okay baby, last one yeah? Take my cock so well” he grunted out quietly. His thrusts were slow and sloppy as you both came close to your edge. His hand back on your clit, yours squeezing around him so tightly.

“Gonna cum for me, beautiful? He cooed again. His thrusts got a little rougher as he felt his own release coming on quick. “Going to cum inside that pretty pussy, that okay?”

You could only nod, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away from the boy you knew you had completely fallen for.

Trent rolled off to the side before pulling you completely on top of him now wrapping his arms securely around you; you could barely breathe, you couldn’t peel your face off his chest if you tried.

“You’re mine forever y/n” He genuinely said, with vulnerability and a whole lot of care. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned further into Trent’s sweaty body only able to hum while you tried to regain your composure.

Trent’s hands stroked your back as you began to doze in and out in his arms, his heart melted at the sight. He had never felt like this in his life. His heart was shattering into a million pieces. Your warm body on top of his was going to be ripped off him in mere hours. He felt sick, he felt his world falling apart. You had been terrified every day of his intentions and the reality of the relationship but it was closing in on him now as the minutes ticked away. He cared, he cared a lot more than he thought he would and he didn’t want to be apart. He just hadn’t voiced his concerns the same way as you did. He was completely lost in thought before the angelic sound of your voice vibrated against his bare chest.

“T, I feel… like I’m dying.” You whispered

“Huh?” He was confused, not sure if he heard you right.

“I feel like my heart is going to stop beating when you leave.” You spoke quieter somehow.

“Baby” he cooed his lips placed to your head “I’ll just be a phone call away, you have me, everyday, every hour.” The sound of his voice was muffled in your hair.

“What if you forget me, I don’t know if I’d recover”

“From the first moment I saw you, I knew how hard it would be to forget you, I could never, baby.” He said tilting your chin to look in your eyes. “You gonna forget me?”

“I will never forget you, or this, or here.. as long as I live, and sometime after that too.” You spoke, tears pooling again. Trent felt his heart almost burst. He knew how he felt but he couldn’t tell you, he couldn't let himself be that vulnerable now that he knew how painful this actually was going to be.

“Don’t cry, please, it's actually hurting me to see you like this. I don’t like it at all. C’mere” he pulled at your chin, your lips pressing to his.

“You tired, baby?” You asked him between kisses.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to sleep. I don’t want to close my eyes. Need every last second of this, of you” He said his hand stroking your cheekbone. The thought of you two being separated was a dark cloud that hovered over the bed till the early morning. You continued to talk about random things, holding onto comfortable moments of silence just admiring each other's features before your eyes started to involuntarily shut. You gently laid on his chest, breathing slow. Trent was deliriously tired but he couldn’t look away, you were an absolute dream, scared if he shut his eyes you’d be gone when he opened them. Your dainty hand spread across his skin looked so delicate adorned with silver and gold rings but one finger was bare. He drowsily smiled stroking your left ring finger.

“I’m gonna put one here eventually, I promise baby” he cooed, lifting your finger a little, his thumb stroking over where he imagined an engagement ring. Never before had Trent imagined a real future with a girl, always just ‘yessing’ the plans he had no intention of keeping, but this… he meant. It had only been a few days but he wanted you and you were going to be his.

The early morning sun poked through the rooms' poorly closed curtains. Trent’s eyes squeezed shut tighter at the bright annoyance. His hand still atop of yours, your face pressed to his chest. He kissed your forehead softly. Trent just stared, admiring your face for a while stroking your hair.

“You’re so beautiful” he cooed to you fast asleep. He tried his best to wiggle out from under you without disturbing you, a near impossible task but he did his best. You stirred grabbing the pillows at the loss of contact with his body when he finally got out.

“T..” you moaned sleepily

“Yeah? Right here sweet girl” he kissed your cheek sitting on the edge of the bed now. “Need to shower, baby. I’ll be right back.” Placing another kiss.

Trent came out of the bathroom, his towel low on his hips, his tanned wet skin practically sparkled in the light. You barely had opened your eyes when you were blessed with the image of his abs and the deep V of his waist. You couldn’t peel your gaze away if you tried.

“Mmmmm…pretty” you mused rustling in the sheets.

“Yeah?” Trent smirked, walking towards the bed. Your arms tiredly stretched out to him.

“Here please” you begged, gesturing him over, half asleep.

“Gimme a kiss baby” Trent cooed back at you now sitting on the bed. You lazily made out with him, moaning, slipping further into the bed, pulling for more causing Trent to giggle a little.

“Okay, okay, go back to sleep needy girl” he said, placing another kiss on your forehead before getting back up to finish packing. He wanted you to be asleep, almost out of it when he left to make this easier.

You had fallen back into a deep sleep by the time Trent had all his things ready to go by the door. He took a deep breath staring at you from across the room nervous to approach you. ‘Fuck’ he muddled under his breath before walking toward the bed.

“Hey” he whispered close, trying not to startle you. “Baby, I have to go.” Despite his intentions the words alone shook you to your core.

“Uhhhuh. No, please.” You whined. In your sleepy haze you hadn’t really pieced together that this was the morning you had been dreading.

“I’m sorry, beautiful. I’ve gotta go, alright? Call me when you wake up.” He spoke quietly and calmly but he felt anything but. He laid his torso over top of yours hugging you. His head pressed against your boobs.

“T… I can’t…” you tried to speak but between your tiredness and overwhelm of emotions you couldn’t get anything out.

“I know, I know” Trent mumbled into your skin. “You can stay in the room as long as you want, okay? I’ll talk to you in a little and I’m gonna see you so soon, baby, promise” You had never heard his voice shake before. He didn’t pull his head up off of you. Your hands wrapped completely around him. In the rush of sadness you felt a moment of calm completely surrounded by his warmth and smell again. It was in the lull you felt a bit of dampness on your chest. A small bit of wetness pressed into your skin and then you heard him sniffle before shaking his head, pulling quickly away from you. He didn’t look at you, he looked away towards the window before he spoke, dragging his arm over across his face in an effort to hide his emotion. You didn’t acknowledge it, clearly he didn’t want to.

“What a plot twist you were…” he said with a contrived smile before finally turning back, placing a passionate kiss to your lips, his hand gripping your neck so tightly that when he pulled away you could still feel where his fingers pressed into your skin. He stood up and you slumped further down in the bed.

“I can't say bye, T” you whispered as you watched him round the corner out of the bedroom.

“Don’t. I can’t hear it.” He said without stopping grabbing his bags, opening the door, and walking into the corridor. ‘Fuck’ he mumbled to himself again before tears started to pool.

“What the fuck,” He said aloud this time, staring at his reflection in the lift door. He was starting to cry over being away from you before it even happened.

You were no better, you were a mess stuck hugging your knees to your chest. By the time you had slowed your tears, you could barely muster up the strength to leave the bed that still smelled of him. You made it to the shower before collapsing to the tiled floor, sitting under the water balling. You both felt ridiculous but you had never felt this connected to anyone and probably never would again.

You dragged yourself out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel before walking out of the bathroom. You had failed to notice that on the far edge of the giant bed Trent had left his sweater folded neatly for you. You wanted to cry. You grabbed the Fear of God Essentials knit holding it tight to your chest. He knew you liked it and had worn it a good amount the last few days secretly trying to steal it. It still smelled like him. You just clung to the fabric as the memories of him seeped back into your brain when something in the other room caught your eye. On the table in the living space was the biggest bouquet of white flowers. Lisianthus, peonies, ranunculus, roses, there were so many flowers all in white hues all perfectly placed in the most incredible arrangement you’d ever seen. Tears gathered on your lash line again. You grabbed at them and sat on the couch with them between your legs. When you moved the massive arrangement you saw a note and red packaging.

‘You’re mine forever baby. Can’t wait till I get to kiss you again. I’ll forever be stuck on 78th Street. Miss you already.

You deserve the world. Hope you like it.

All yours xx

T’

You sobbed reading the note. How he managed this was beyond you but nothing would surprise you about how amazing he was. He was absolutely perfect. You put the card down to grab the little red bag with gold embossed lettering, pulling out a box wrapped in white paper with a red wax stamp. You gently peeled it off to find a red leather box. You apprehensively opened it. It was a Cartier ‘LOVE’ bracelet. It was different from ones you've seen, it had a diamond in place of every screw. You had spoken to Trent about how you liked the permanency of the bracelet. It felt thoughtful when someone gifted it. You picked it up admiring the gold bangle when you saw the engraving on the interior.

‘Stuck on 78th’

The tears just kept coming, you felt insane but this was insane. Remembering the warmth of the sun on your skin when you first met Trent up on 78th Street sent shivers up your spine. You needed to talk to him, you knew he was mid-travel so you opted to text, trying to be low key but ultimately revealing your whole hand bursting with emotions.

“Are you fucking serious 😭💔”

“You like?”

“T…”

“Anything for you, baby. Miss you already 😘”

“Come back please 😘😘😘😘😘”

“Will see you so soon ❤️”

•

Thank you for continuing reading! I hope you enjoyed this one. Please let me know what you think or if you have any thoughts/ questions! 🤍

Next part - Chapter 8

[hederasgarden]

WIP Folder Tag Game

Thank you for tagging me @writercole!

Rules: Make a post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have wips. People can send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

Escort!Tangerine x F!reader

Escort!Jake Seresin x F!reader

The Price of Survival Chapter 3 (Lucius Verus x F!reader, modern zombie AU)

Mob!Sergei Kravinoff x reader + Bodyguard!Lucius Verus x reader 

Romance Author!Reader x Bodyguard!Sergei Kravinoff  

Soft!Dark Sergei kidnaps you for your own good 

Under the Influence Chapter 2 (Clark Kent x F!reader, sex pollen)

Stand By Me Chapter 4 (Rhett Abbott x F!reader)

Housewife!Reader x Sergei 

On the Horizon Chapter 3 (Tyler Owens x F!reader) 

Stargazing with Tyler Owens 

Mea culpa (drabble for Lucius and The Fisherman’s Wife from his POV)

Joel Miller x F!Reader (unplanned pregnancy, he does not react well)

Send an ask if you want to know more!

Tagging @clairewritesandrambles @elusivewildflower @otaku-girl-ao3 @lostinwildflowers @mayhem24-7forever @wildbornsiren

[pinayelf-archive]

Spent some hours thinking abt this au so I finally drew it 💃🏽

I love the inherent romanticism of migs and lyla being in love and never being able to touch but also what if she was a human library archivist who Miguel befriends and eventually asks to join the spider society for her tech skills…

some of my hcs for the au under the cut ✌🏽

Lyla is also from 2099

she’s snarky and unserious, a bit chaotic sometimes

absolutely brilliant

she’s a library archivist & since it’s into the future libraries are probably enmeshed w tech and you’d need to be able to be good w tech to work in archives

She worked in the alchemax databases and befriended Miguel that way

they wanted her to pull some files unethically but she refused and quit, not before telling Tyler stone off (more specifically told him to eat her shocking ass)

when migs finally quit alchemax he finds her again at some rundown diner and they reconnect

she gets held up and Spider-Man saves her but she immediately puts it together that it’s Miguel because ofc she does

along with Jess drew, Lyla is one of the people Miguel trusts the most

lyla is close friends w Jess and also peter

she’s Margo’s tech mentor but is more like her cool older sister

her friendship w Miguel is the two of them constantly roasting each other. The other spiders are surprised that Lyla talks to him like that and that he responds w the same energy lol

she was with Miguel when he replaced his alternate self. She was introduced to gabi as his librarian friend

she grew close to gabi and loved her too, her loss also destroyed Lyla

she keeps this bottled in because she thinks she’s not allowed to grieve gabi

she and Miguel are both bottled up in different ways - Miguel closes himself off and loses himself in work and lyla jokes everything away

she is not in love with miguel

she isn’t pls believe her

shes in love with Miguel

[knotfodder]

-

[kai-boone]

Rules: post the beginning lines of your most recent 10 published fanfics, then attempt to tag 10 people!

For consistency, I’m just going to do the first paragraph :)

Tagging: @a-smol-nugget, @cryptid-punks— the key word here is attempt, because I went through my whole follower list and idk if you guys write or not 😅 Hop on if you do, I was hoping to just tag anyone who writes fic 👍

And of course no pressure if you don’t have a lot of recently published stuff, just anything you wanna share :]

(Anyway mine is under the cut for suggestive content and self harm)

🛞He didn’t mean to wake Noah up. He really, honestly, truly, did not— but he was dying, hot to the touch with restless frustration, spark pulsing and aching with useless arousal… what the hell is wrong with me? It’s getting worse… am I sick?

🌪��Ángel Luís Boone was only six years old when he met Tyler Owens for the first time, but he’d never forget it.

🌪️Boone didn’t pretend to be the most sociable person on the whole planet. He tried his best to be friendly with those around him, though. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it just took a while.

[skipping in your eyes because I actually wrote that months prior to posting it on ao3]

🛞Mirage didn’t like being by himself. With no one to talk to and nothing to do, he often found himself feeling cooped up in the garage. Cooped up, and bored, and stuck in his head.

🛞It had been a while since Mirage had been so nervous about something Noah wanted to do to him.

🌪️Javi was fine. Now he was. He’d payed penance. It didn’t matter that his face was wet with tears, or that blood was beginning to bead up along these fresh cuts— everything was okay now that he’d made it right.

🛞Noah was rather grumpy that day as he walked to the garage— he had good reason, too, after spending almost six hours (of a Monday, no less) at home working on something he already knew Mirage wouldn’t understand. He could practically hear him now— what the hell is a refrigerator?

🌪️Boone had never seen anything like it. Well, that was a lie— he’d seen plenty of serious men in polo shirts filing out of matching company vehicles— but way out in the sticks like this? There were maybe five buildings in the sorry excuse for a town they were rolling into. Nothing for businessmen to encroach upon.

🌪️God, I’m such a dumbass— Boone was practically bursting at the seams with pent-up energy. His leg bounced up and down, he was tearing at his dry cuticles, biting at the side of his cheek, ignoring the pang he got in his heart each time Tyler cast a glance his way— this time. This time I need to do it. It had been almost three weeks since Boone had really jerked off.

🛞Mirage had a reputation with the other Autobots as being easily distracted and unobservant, but he was of the opinion that that was quite the opposite— at least when he was with Noah. Who wouldn’t occasionally catch themself staring, if they had such a pretty human for a boyfriend?

I’m pretty happy with the fact that it’s evenly 5 twisters and 5 transformers fics lol :] that’s also the first time I’ve revisited Peace of Mind since I initially wrote and posted it all in one go, to distract myself from making bad choices 🫠 I hardly remember writing it, and I’ve been nervous that it would be all over the place bc I wasn’t feeling well, but I actually quite like it! Anyway I can definitely notice a pattern with these opening lines, but tbh I don’t really think that’s a bad thing yk? Anyway this was fun, thanks for the tag @playingwiththeboysisagayanthem ^_^

[wh0iskyra0]

Maybe Cupid won’t miss…?

Tyler the creator

A/n- This is half based on the song Sarah some parts are from the song besides that that’s it really 😜 have fun reading

Warning(s)- murders, kidnappings, mentions of gore, smut at the end. If I missed anything let me know.

(Choso’s pov)

“Today, there was reported to be three counts of murder, the victim’s were found hands zip tied together an-” I cut the TV off before she could finish, this town was always exposed to some type of crime every other week. This is the fifth one this week. “Choso, we got another.” I heard one of my colleagues say as he walked in, he handed the case file to me “You look terrible Choso, don’t you think you should go ahead home I can finish it from her if you want?” He said with concern in his voice. He was right. I was tired but this was all I could think about at home, shopping, even at the gym.

“No, I’m fine, I can do half of it then head home.” I said looking through the file I heard a hum from him before he walked out, I took the pictures from the case and pinned them up on the board seeing them used to make me sick but now they don’t have an effect on me anymore. Some things I noticed about the case were that they were all gutted. The only thing left was their heart and a Cupid's arrow with words next to where the heart was located saying “Cupid missed with this one” but it wasn’t hand written it looked as if it was printed. I stood back a little and looked at all the case photos. “This person has to be one sick bastard to do something like this.” I said before grabbing my coat and heading out.

My car was in the shop so I had to take the bus, not that I minded it, I got on this and sat towards the back of the bus. The bus ride was nice and quiet, the bus had come to a stop and I had noticed my neighbor [Name] had got on, she was always the quiet type when she first moved in but her brother on the other hand was different, he was very outgoing and made friends with everyone on the block. He was the first to knock on my door when they moved in next door.

[3 years ago]

(Names POV)

Me and my brother have just moved here from Florida, we had just got the last three boxes in before this boy was already telling me what I was going to do “So I think the kills should be done by you this time, I’ve been doing them since we moved to Florida.” He said to me, handing me some of the boxes for the kitchen, I grabbed the box and looked at him “Actually dumbass I did the killing not you, your ass brought them here. Get it right.” I explained to him, he rolled his eyes at me before putting something’s up in the cabinets “Can we at least have some type of communication with neighbors this time?” He asked me while putting the box in the corner. I looked at him. Last time we didn’t talk to neighbors they suspected us but we had “just” moved there so we were put off the table.

My brother was smiling as we made it to our first neighbors house, he ran up to the door and knocked three times before at a tall male with long black hair and black eyes with dark circles under them. “Hello, we just moved in next door and wanted to meet all of the neighbors. Your neighborhood looks very beautiful and well maintained.” He said to the male, I waved and looked around. “My name is Jordan and this is [Name], my sister, she's a little shy.” He said, smiling softly, the male smiled and waved at us before telling us his name ‘Choso’ was his name…

Once we got home from talking to the majority of the neighborhood I went to look him up, he’s a police officer. I cussed quietly under my breath, Jordan had gone out about three hours ago to get our first victim. I went to the basement with the box of tools and other things. After a while of waiting I heard the door open and closing before I heard Jordan call out for me. “I made sure no one was with her, and nobody was around when I took her.” He said hold the unconscious girl and headed to the basement “But she gave me a very hard time. Fucking kicked me in my leg, she also got away.” He said while we sat her on the cold floor.

He was about to touch her before I spoke up “Gloves. You already fucked up that part when you got her.”I said to him, I grabbed some things to clean her with so no fingerprints couldn’t be found, I heard my brother say sorry before walking to get some gloves. I zip tied her arms just in time because she was starting to wake up. She looked around in a panic and tried to scream but she couldn’t because she had duct tape over her mouth “Good morning beautiful.” I said with a smile to her she looked at me with tears in her eyes, my brother came back with some snacks “Really dude.” I said to him, he looked at me before placing them down on a nearby table he then walked over to me and the girl, “She’s pretty.” He said rubbing her hair softly, I looked at him then rolled my eyes. I walked over to the box of things “I think we should go easy on her,” He said to me “also did you make sure this place had a high enough crime rate, before we did this?” He said as I turned around.

“Yea and I found out that there’s a killer who uses zip ties, then he guts his victims but leaves their heart, and if he likes them he’ll put ‘Cupid didn’t miss’ and if he didn’t like them he’ll put ‘Cupid missed with this one’. So we just have to do that.” I said to him “Oh he also uses these handmade Cupid arrows, I made some while you were out.” I said to him.

After we killed her we took her body to a isolated place in town and placed the arrow in her heart, we got and cleaned up before heading to bed. The next morning was as normal as normal “Good job with the cutting.” I said while pouring myself a glass of orange juice, he looked at me and smiled before turning on the TV. The news was talking about the possibility of aliens actually being on Earth before the switch to a different topic “Well that was quick.” Jordan said eating his spoonful of lucky Charms “This morning police were called to investigate a murder that happened, they say that it might be the same person that had killed 10 people in the same way, but they don’t have any evidence or information about the person, when they do we will let you all know.” The news reporter said before Jordan changed the channel to SpongeBob.

I told Jordan that I’ll be back in about an hour before I walked out. I saw Choso working in his front yard. He looked up at me and waved “Good morning [Name]” he said to me. I waved at him before getting in my car.

[Present day]

(Choso’s pov)

I walked out to my house to check the mailbox before I heard some yelling coming from [Name] and her brothers house, I knew it was none of my business but her brother was a bigger man, I walked over and knocked on the door waiting for a response the opened it was Jordan “Is everything okay?” I said looking at him, he was going to speak before I heard [Name] speak up “No, it’s not okay.” She said standing beside him “Look it’s not my fault she was loud, and that you can’t get any.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. So it was that type of problem.

“So I’ll just take this as a sibling type of problem.” I said with a laugh.

Jordan looked at her before looking back at me “yea it is, but if you have a solution to her problem then this would be solved so fast.” He said smirking, I didn’t understand at first “JORDAN!” I heard [Name] yell before pinching him and walking away, I blushed a little and cleared my throat, Jordan looked at me and laughed “I’m just kidding man, unless?” He said looking at me with a smirk. She is a very attractive woman. “How about tonight?” I said to him with a smile, he looked surprised “well shit, my sisters got a date.” He said it loud enough for her. I chuckled before saying goodbye to the male and headed home.

Putting off a case that I started four years ago won’t be so hard. I walked to my basement and looked at the girl that’s been missing for two months now. “I don’t need you anymore, I got what I wanted now.” I said to the girl she smiled and began to cry “Oh. You think I’ll let you go?” I said with a laugh “,just for you to tell someone?” I said walking over to grab a knife, I then turned to look at the woman who was crying hysterically now.

Before I picked up [Named] I dumped the girls body somewhere isolated, after I was done I cleaned my hands and headed to her house.

[Names pov]

“No killing while I’m out.” I said while fixing my make up a little bit. I heard my brother say okay in a dead tone “Jordan I’m being serious.” I said putting my earring in before grabbing my bag. “Okay, okay jezz, I won’t.” He said, grabbing his bowl of ice cream and heading to the living room, I heard a knock at the door. I went to open it. “Hey.” He said with a smile, he handed me a bundle of flowers “Oh why thank you, these are so pretty!” I said taking them and placing them on the counter “Don’t stay out too long you two.” Jordan said while watching TV. I rolled my eyes and stepped outside while closing the door behind me. “You look…beautiful.” He said while grabbing my hand, I smiled “And you look handsome.” I said to him.

We made it to the restaurant, it was very beautiful. I was happy that he took me out, I haven’t been out in a while. We talked for a couple of minutes, I noticed he was very fidgety “You nervous?” I asked him, he looked at me with a smile “Y-yea just a little.” He said while grabbing his glass and taking a sip, I smiled. The waitress came out with our food a minute later, as we were eating we talked about a lot of things to get to know each other more. “So you never wanted to be a police officer?” I asked him, chuckling a little bit “Yep, I wanted to work with my dad.” He said before taking a bite of his food “Wow.” I said, taking a sip of my drink “So, you and your brother.” He said, looking at me.

“Mhm, what about us?” I said a little hesitant “You two don’t look alike, for being twins.” He said while intertwining his fingers, I looked at him for a moment before speaking “We’re fraternal twins.” I said smiling at him, he hummed in response before he continued eating. After we ate dinner we made our way back home, “I had a great time tonight.” I said standing in front of him, noticing he was a little bit taller than me, “I had a great time too.” He said getting closer, he leaned towards me and gave me a kiss before I could react he asked me if I wanted to come in I said sure and headed with him inside. “You’re home is reall-“I know you killed them.” He interrupted me. I stood there in shock “I- what do you mean, I wouldn’t do that.” I said starting to feel my breathing get heavy.

He walked closer to me, trapping me between him and the door “Stop lying I know you did, want me to tell you how?” He said getting closer to my face, I looked at him for a moment, lost in thought thinking of all my procedures and precautions or anything that I had forgotten to do “You forgot to write the words on her…like I do.” He said closer to my ear, still in shock I looked at him “W-what you mean like you do.?” I said, he kissed me and put his hands on my waist. “Before you moved here, I was the one killing.” He said moving towards my neck, I moaned at the action “You and your brother are really good at what you do. Being little copycats?” He said looking back at me “What fun do you get from doing this? Does it make you feel good? Bad?” He said, gripping my waist tighter “I-I don’t know, we just wanted to.” I said looking at him he smiled.

“You know why I did it?” He said picking me up, I yelped at the action. He carried me to his room and laid me down before getting on top of me. “I did it for you, the last girl I liked. I did the same thing but she rejected me. So I killed her and stopped but when you came I fell back into that mindset that I need you so I took girls that looked like you.” He kissed my neck again, though this situation was nothing to be happy about. I still smiled at the words that left his mouth. “I was thinking about taking you and putting you in my basement. Cause I didn’t think you would like me.” He said moving lower, before he continued he looked at as if he was asking could he keep going I nodded, he pushed up my dress and took it off throwing it somewhere in his room.

He kissed from my collarbone to my chest, I sat up to take off my bra for him “You're so beautiful.” He said to me while kissing around my nipple while playing. I moan and put my hands in his hair to push him closer. I felt him moaning against my nipple before he turned his attention to the other one. “I’m so happy I get to touch you.” He said with a whiny voice, he felt his hand move closer to my underwear, he started lightly rubbing circles on my clit. “Did you wear these for me?” He said softly while kissing in between my boobs. I moaned as he started moving his fingers faster, he continued kissing lower and lower until he got to the top of my underwear, he stopped his movements to take them off “You gone let me eat you out?” He asked as he kissed my inner thighs. I nodded, then rubbed his head, he kissed my inner thigh before kissing my clit, I moaned and gripped his hair a little tighter.

He lightly bit down on my clit before he started licking my hole then moving back up, he them licked my lips before he tongue fucked me, he brought his thumb up to my clit and lightly rubbed it “Your so sweet.” He said before putting his index finger inside of me I moaned and pushed his mouth deeper in to me, he put his middle finger inside and started moving his fingers and tongue faster “I-I’m so close, don’t stop please!” I said arching my back and grabbing his head. He moaned into me as I came on his face, “Good job baby.” He said while still fingering me, I tried to push his hand away “I think you can do one more for me, right?” He said rubbing his fingers against my sweet spot, I moaned as I felt myself reaching my peak. “I know baby you're so close.” He said to me as I reached my orgasm. “Look at that baby, you squirted.” He said with a smile before coming up to kiss me, I could taste myself on his lips.

“Was that your first time?” He said while picking me up to take me to the bathroom, once we made it there he placed me in the tub and turned on the water “Do you want to go back home or you wanna stay?” He said while checking the temperature he looked at me “I can stay here.” I said to him, “What’s wrong baby, something wrong?” He said turning the water off, I looked up at him “I didn’t- well we didn’t do anything.” I said looking up at him as he rubbed my body with soap. “Baby, your pleasure is my pleasure. I promise I had just as much pleasure as you.” He said kissing my forehead, I smiled at him.

Cupid didn’t miss time…

[capricioussuns]

Okay, re: what does the blue symbolize, I found this amazing lore masterpost on reddit that's provided a lot of much needed clarity

Apparently Blurryface stated blue means defeat, but I don't necessarily believe that, at least not completely

In one of the secret messages, a file had a hexcode hidden that was Claim Cyan, an anagram of I am Clancy, looking very similar to Vessels colors

And lastly, Trash, who is blue, was said to represent inspiration, fear, and magic, which makes me lean back toward believing, ultimately, blue symbolizes...essentially their experiences as a band/being perceived and everything that comes with it.

I think it's possible blurryface could've said it means defeat to imply being crushed under the pressure of expectation, perhaps..? Or just lied. We're still not necessarily certain what exactly blurryface wants, though in the recent mvs we outright see the bishops utilizing the dead to fight against the banditos, weaponizing "the glorious gone" like Tyler sings about in a more symbolic way on Neon Gravestones. Maybe he purely wants Tyler to die and inflict as much collateral damage as possible on the way out..? I don't know if it's necessarily that clear cut, that's not the impression I get anyway.

Especially as we watch Clancy become more obsessed with ending this, resorting to using the color red himself, ignoring warning signs, etc etc. And Tyler had apparently said in an interview the "big fight" happens after the Paladin Strait mv. So I'm not convinced Clancy is the last chapter. I saw a theory that mentioned believing this is actually a two part album, and the second half will be called "...is dead", regarding the phrase Clancy is Dead Dema frequently used to try and break morale.

But that's the odd thing. Clancy is an exception. The only living who can be used as a vessel. What if he’s actually been "dead" the entire time? But what would that even mean? Has Tyler been Seizing him this whole time as a means to escape and avoid facing Nico himself? Is the next album going to be about the realization, putting Clancy's body to rest, and finally facing things as Tyler? "I created this world to feel some control, destroy it if I want"...

Maybe the album would be blue not to symbolize the pressures they feel as a band, but to bring them back to reality. Leaving Trench. No banditos, no bishops, a band and their fans and their struggles. That would certainly be an interesting way to close it out, especially given that's an entirely well rounded way to open them up to creating new music beyond this story again (not that they're. Not allowed to do that now, but I'd imagine Tyler feels a lot of pressure since he knows fans will read into anything they do looking for clues about this story)

Man. I'm so cooked. I just keep thinking about this and them. Ough

[agentpeggycartering]

Hi 🫶🏻 for the make me write: 💼

I had no idea I needed/wanted a Lone Star/White Collar crossover but apparently I did because I'm internally screaminggggg

It was something that I didn't know that I needed either until I started thinking about it!

Sorry about the delay and I hope you enjoy!

"Why was she in Austin, why did he go to see her there?" "It's all above board on his end. She was there because…" Diana stops to scan the document in front of her, her face falling a bit as she reads it. She clears her throat and resumes speaking. "She headed for Texas after Tyler was shot on duty. He was in a coma for a few days, she didn't arrive until after he'd woken up." "Shot on duty? You said his father was his captain, are they cops?" Jones shakes his head. "No, firefighters. They were both NYFD, Station 252, and now they're Austin FD. Although Tyler is now a paramedic. Still stationed out of the same house, but under a different captain." "I'd probably stop being a firefighter too if I'd been shot on the job." "Records show he's been injured as a paramedic, too." Jones said, skimming over the file in front of him. "Damn, this kid's got bad luck. It seems he has a near death experience at least once a year since he's moved to Texas."

make me write

[liminalmemories21]

2023 Writing Round Up!

tagged by @jesuisici33. Thank you!

Writing Round-Up: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones your most excited about.

Fewer stories this year, but they were all mostly much longer. I genuinely cannot believe that Knave 2 was this year, it feels like so long ago, but apparently was just February. I also can't believe I wrote it in two months. I think maybe Knave 3 kicked my ass so much I forgot that Knave 2 wasn't longer ago.

February

The Knave of Hearts . . . he said he'd steal no more (February 25, 2023 | 60,161 words | Rated E | Tarlos | White Collar AU)

Do you know where Tyler was the night of the 10th?"

"TK," he repeats stubbornly.

Mattheson looks up. "What?"

"His name is TK. Nobody calls him Tyler except his mother.”

Mattheson makes an ostentatious show of noting the correction in the file, although it hasn’t made a difference the last seven times Carlos has said it. "So, the night of the 10th, do you know where Mr. Strand was?"

June

We Were in Screaming Color (June 25, 2023 | 66,639 words | Rated E | Tarlos | Season 4 Interstitials)

All the conversations we didn't see in Season 4

July

The square root of sixty nine (July 6, 2023 | 11,630 words | Rated E | Tarlos)

5 times TK asked for consent + 1 time Carlos did

August

A Secret is a Strange Thing - Owen, Gwyn, Enzo (August 5, 2023 | 5,793 words | Rated T | Tarlos adjacent)

character studies - six kinds of secrets each person kept

October

to be at home in fragments (October 9, 2023 | 3,488 words | Rated G | Tarlos)

collection of tumblr prompts

November

The Knave of Hearts . . . brought back the tarts (November 17, 2023 | 65,951 words | Rated E | Tarlos | White Collar AU)

It starts so innocuously that it’s hard to pinpoint, even in hindsight. But he thinks that maybe it was his father’s birthday, sitting on the porch waiting to digest lunch before they embark on cake. TK is sketching a line of Steinlen style cats to march along the walls of Marisol’s bedroom. [ . . .]

His father laughs at the two of them. “That reminds me actually, a friend of yours stopped by to visit me the other day." TK freezes in reaching for his ice tea, and Carlos’s father arches an eyebrow. "Tulson. Agent Tulson stopped by my office. Who did you think I meant?”

TK exhales and picks up his glass. “The mind boggles. What did Matt want?”

“Wanted to ask if I’d heard any rumors about a new art thief nosing around town for targets.”

Think It Over, Think It Under (November 30, 2023 | 12,864 words | Rated T | Tarlos adjacent)

6 conversations TK had with his sisters-in-law + 1 conversation Carlos had with his sisters

December

Once Upon a Bus coming soon - the bus driver AU

tagging @ladytessa74, @chicgeekgirl89, @chaotictarlos, @strandnreyes, @paperstorm, @rmd-writes, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @reyesstrand, and @welcometololaland

[miscfandomwrites]

Pretty Girl

A/N: Basically a condensed version I had of a daydream today. Note that I didn’t want to write an intro to this, I wanted to just dive straight into the smut but I decided to give some fluffer for the fic. Also, I’m going to post my update and upload notice later today, so keep an eye out for that because it’s fairly important. As always, if you want to be on the taglist for my fics please let me know.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader Smut

Warnings: Jealous! Reader, Fingering, Penetration (N receiving), Reader gets called mommy, basically filth. Sparse edits, but it’s pretty decent. 

Words: 1.4k

Location: Marvel > Natasha Romanoff > Oneshots

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“Glad to see you back, Nat.” I told the woman as she climbed out of the car. 

“Not back yet.” She replied as she took her time to stretch her body.

Her, along with Banner, were gone for a two-week mission to gather some intelligence about a subject. I didn’t bother reading the case file, considering I was reading and prepping over my own, but I paid attention to who she would be going with. Banner.

I didn’t dislike the scientist per say, well, maybe a little bit- either way, he still had a crush on Natasha and I didn’t like having him around her. Call me protective if you want.

“The mission was fine, thanks for asking.” Banner said as he opened the back of the car. I rolled my eyes and grabbed Nat’s bags, before depositing them in the trunk of my car. I was glad that Banner was riding back alone and I had decided to take Nat back myself.

I’m thankful I’ve started to keep a better handle on my emotions, because when I turn around to see Banner hugging her, I nearly fucking lost it.

Nat doesn’t really like to be touched, and I could tell she was trying to gently push him away from the grip on his arms. I cleared my throat, and Nat took the incentive to get away from his grip. She came over and walked to my side, a hand on my arm, tugging me to the car. I left Banner with a glare and opened the side door for her.

I got into the car and was quick to pull out of the parking lot and head back on the freeway, letting the engine and speed start to calm my brain. It took a few minutes before Natasha said anything. “You’re cute when you’re jealous” she chuckled. 

I huffed and smiled softly. “Oh really?” I asked her. She ducked her head and smiled, before taking my hand off the stick and setting it on her thigh.

“We didn’t do anything, if you’re wondering. I have missed you, though…” And with that she leaned back in the seat, moving her skirt up a little bit higher. 

I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind was elsewhere and my mouth was dry. I gently ran my hand up and down her thigh, grateful for the time were were together and-damn, she wasn’t wearing anything under that, was she? 

I moved my hand farther up her thigh and was rewarded with my answer of no, definitely not. 

“Where are your-”

“Left jacket pocket” 

I took my hand off her thigh to hold the wheel while I fished in my pocket for said object. A pair of black, lacy underwear with a damp patch in them. 

I smirked and tucked the underwhere on the rearview mirror, thankful for the blacked out windows. I moved my right hand back to her thigh and kept the other on the steering wheel, accelerating some. It was another twenty minutes until we were back to the tower.

I moved my hand higher, and she spread her thighs as much as the small seats would let her. Keeping my hand from touching her where she definitely most wants it, I trace small patterns on her inner thigh lightly with my fingers. Deciding to play the game of how long until she moves or says anything, I keep it up, sometimes going higher, sometimes lower with my ministrations.

Five minutes.

It took her five minutes, which I was surprised at, before she took my hand and moved it towards her center. I smirked and gently let my fingers brush the warmth of her. 

“(Y/N), please…” She whimpered as she shifted her hips towards my hand more. 

I trailed a finger through the slick of her and trailed from her entrance to her clit. 

“Please!” She groaned as she gripped the side of the seat. 

I chucked quietly as I shifted a gear, speeding closer to the exit I needed to get off at. 

“You can’t wait fifteen minutes, darling?” I cooed at her flushed face. 

Another whimper, and she shifted her hips again, enough so I kept her thigh still with my hand.

“Mommy…..please” was all it took before I had one finger pushed inside, my thumb flicking her clit. 

Natasha moaned and leaned farther back into the seat, and it took an immense amount of focus to keep my eyes on the road instead of her. 

Her wet heat pressed against my finger as I pumped it in and out of her, and soon I added a second. Teasing them in and out while occasionally flicking her clit with my thumb, I shifted my hand back so I could go deeper.

The wet sounds from between her legs had me pressing mine together, thankful that I had come packed. 

Her low whimpers and the steady hum of the car were music to my ears. Only a few streets until we were at the tower, thankfully. 

I kept up the pace, even slowing it down a little as we pulled into the garage. As soon as I slipped my hand from her she was quick to complain, but with a look I silenced her. I didn’t want to deal with Banner or the others, I only wanted my girl.

I moved my seat back and quickly undid my belt, before tugging her onto my lap. Her flushed face and the stare she had as she kept it on the strap had me smirking at her.

“That’s….” She started.

“Big. But you’ll take it, babygirl. “ I finished for her. She nodded and I shifted my hips until she was just over them. I wet the strap with her essence before gently helping her slide down it. 

“Fuck, mommy….” She quietly whimpered, her face on my shoulder as she sank to hilt. I smoothed a hand along her back and moved my other to cup her face. She leaned back, her back against the steering wheel and a face in which I could only describe as utter bliss.

Her hair was tousled and framed her face gently, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over, and her pretty little mouth parted open as she panted lightly. 

“My pretty girl…” I whispered to her quietly as I kissed her gently. 

She lifted her hips up and slid back down, a whimper of Russian words falling from her mouth as she started bouncing up and down. I moved my hand from her face down to her neck, applying light pressure. One of her hands grabbed my wrist, keeping the hand there and the other held onto my shoulder for dear life.

I bucked my hips up the same time she came down, and a yell I heard of my name came from her lips.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” 

I squeezed harder on her neck, and bucked up again. This time, she almost went limp in my lap when she came. Her body shaking and moans falling from her lips as I pressed into her more, and traced a hand down to her clit.

Nipping at her neck as she started to fuck herself on my strap again, I made a point to leave plenty of marks on her neck and chest. One hand on her neck, the other rubbing her clit, she quickly came again after that. The third time was just when Bruce pulled in and opened his car door. Natasha’s head leaned back as she screamed my name loud enough for him to hear.

I’ve never seen a grown man blush that much and walk away that quickly in my life.

I smirked after him, and helped Nat gently get off the strap, her breathing hard and fast. 

I cupped her face, running my thumb over her lips as I sucked the juices of her from my hand.

“Good girl.”